To kindle the fire and throw among the coals an armful of mussels was not a long job, and then Ned walked slowly through the grove to decide upon the location of his proposed house.
He finally, after considerable discussion with himself, concluded that it would be wisest to erect the building within a short distance of the spring, and near the head of the bay.
In order that he might have no difficulty in finding the spot selected, he half broke, half cut down a sapling, and then went back to the scene of his culinary operations.
The mussels were well roasted; but, lacking salt, they were not as palatable as the fish.
“These go a long way ahead of nothin’,” Ned said grimly, “but fall mightily short of some grub I’ve tasted in my day. After the shanty is built I shan’t have anything to do but hunt ’round for provisions, an’ it’ll be queer if I can’t manage to catch one or two of these birds.”
He was rapidly getting rid of that terrible feeling of utter desolation which had at first come upon him, and appeared as well able as any boy could have been to provide against want.
The remainder of the day was spent in house-building, and a slow task it proved to be. He had no other tool than the pocket knife, and it was not particularly well adapted to the hewing of trees.
He contrived to lop off some of the small limbs and break down saplings enough to make the roof of his shanty; but before anything more could be done night had come.
Again he slept under the rubber coat, and despite the fact of the noon-day nap his slumber was long and profound.
He was awake by sunrise, however, and fully determined to have something to show for this day’s labor.