“This is another case like the man who had to cross the river with the goose, the fox, and the bag of corn,” chuckled Neale. “But I guess we’ll make it somehow. Come on, girls.”
“Here comes the goose!” cried Agnes, stepping off the bow of the launch into Neale’s arms. “Hurry up, Ruth. If there are savages in that jungle I want you to be present at the first introduction. Your manners are so much better than mine.”
The transportation of the four girls did not take long. Meanwhile Mr. Howbridge removed his shoes and socks and came ashore carrying some wraps and a few cooking utensils.
“We want breakfast first of all. I do not believe we shall find here any natives, savage or otherwise, who will offer us a meal,” the lawyer said.
Neale had carried ashore the end of the painter and they moored the motor-boat safely to a stub driven into the sand above high-water mark. The young fellows went about making a camp at the edge of the jungle in a matter-of-fact way.
“Doesn’t your chart tell what island this is?” Ruth asked Neale O’Neil. “Surely it can’t be an unknown island.”
“Probably not,” Mr. Howbridge said, smiling, and before Neale could reply. “But it is safe enough to say that it is unoccupied save by ourselves.”
“And—and have we got to stay here?” gasped Agnes.
“Until we can repair the motor-boat engine, or some one appears to take us off,” said the lawyer soberly. “But we have some provisions and I can see that there is fruit growing in plenty yonder, and this cove probably offers many shellfish, and finny denizens of the sea as well.“