[CHAPTER XII—RIVERMEN WITH A THIRST]
“A lost channel and a lost boat! Still if we didn’t have adventures just like this, we’d be contented to remain on the South Branch in Chicago,” said Case. “It wouldn’t have been any fun if we had passed up the St. Lawrence without getting dumped on the sand.”
“Say, kid,” Jule said, pointing to Alex, “do you think you can swim over to the shore?”
“Swim over yourself!” advised Alex. “What do you want me to swim over for?”
“To get timber to block up this boat so you can cook dinner,” laughed Jule. “We can’t live on the sand which is here—that’s a pun, eh?”
“What have we got for dinner?” Clay asked, ignoring the pun. “Perhaps I’d better go aboard and look over our larder.”
“If you want to know where I’m going to get my dinner,” Alex observed, “just look down into the river. Those fish look pretty good to me, and I’m hungry enough to eat a whale.”
“If the time ever comes when you’re not hungry,” Case cut in, “the sun will rise in the west. You’re empty to your heels.”
“And I’m glad of it, too,” Alex shouted back. “But what I want to know,” he continued, “is how we’re ever going to get off this bar.”
“If we stay right here,” Case advised, “some boat will come along and pull us off. You don’t have to do anything unless you want to.”