Plunger kicked Harry, and Harry returned the compliment; then their eyes went to the river again, and the raft, which was just getting under way again to cross to the other side.
"Those duffers don't know how to use a raft," said Harry contemptuously, after he had been watching the workmen for some moments.
"Of course they don't. That's the worst of being landlubbers. Wish we could only take them in hand and show them."
"One of 'em ought to be wearing a suit of goatskins and things of that sort, with a great cap on his head, with the hair on the outside to shoot off the rain if it came on," said Harry thoughtfully.
"Like Robinson Crusoe, you mean?"
"Like Robinson Crusoe. That slim fellow with the black hair would do for Friday, and the others could be Indians—if they only knew how to do things properly; but they don't."
"They don't," repeated Plunger emphatically. "My, if we only had the working of that raft, Harry, we'd make things hum!"
It was tantalizing to watch the men, so they turned away with visions of what it would be possible to accomplish if they only had possession of the raft. They could discover a desert island on the other side of the river, pitch their tent on it, and do "lots of things." Full of these splendid visions, they walked along in silence, each busy with his own thoughts.
"I think we can work it, Harry," Plunger at length remarked.
"Work what?"