So they walked about the island looking for bits of wood. But none was to be found. For wood floats; that is, unless it is so soaked with water as to be too heavy, and all the pieces of wood that had ever been on the island had floated away.
"I don't guess we can build any boats," said Margy. "Let's go back to shore and get some wood, and then we can come back and sail boats."
"That'll be fun," said Mun Bun. "We'll go."
But when he and his sister started to wade back, they had not gone very far before Margy cried:
"Oh, the water's terrible deep! Look how deep down my foot goes!"
Mun Bun looked. Indeed the water was almost up to Margy's knees now, and she had gone only a few steps away from the shore of the island.
"Let me try it," said her brother. "I'm bigger than you."
He wasn't, though he liked to think so, for Margy was a year older. But I guess Mun Bun was like most boys; he liked to think himself larger than he was.
However, when he stepped out from the island, ahead of Margy, he, too, found that the water was deeper than it had been when they started to wade from the shore near Cousin Tom's pier.
"What makes it?" asked Margy.