“But couldn’t we find a way across the forest to some point on the great river, Naylor?” said Brazier.
“No, sir, and we’ve got to face what’s before us. No man can get through that great forest without chopping his way with an axe, and he’d want two or three lifetimes to do it in, if he could find food as he went. I’m talking as one who has tried all this sort o’ thing for many years, and I’m telling you the simple truth when I say that, situated as we are, we’ve either got to stop here till help comes, or go down the river on some kind of raft.”
“Then why not do that and risk the dangers?” cried Rob.
“Yes,” said Brazier. “Why not do that? No help can possibly come here unless Indians pass by in a canoe.”
“Which they won’t, sir, and if they did they’d kill us as they would wild beasts. I don’t believe there’s an Indian for a hundred miles.”
“Then what do you propose doing first?” asked Brazier.
“Trying to kill the wolf, sir.”
“What! hunger?”
“Yes, sir. He’s a-gnawing away at me awful. Let’s see what berries and fruit we can find, and then try whether we can’t get hold of a fish.”
“But we are forgetting all about poor Joe,” said Rob in agonised tones.