Whilst waiting for her to recover he had noted numerous sun-dried poles scattered about the beach, and those he pointed to.
"Get about seven of those, Miss Yardely, as near equal length as you can. Gather them as close to the water's edge as possible, and then get some saplings for cross pieces. Lash the poles well together with the tent and pack-ropes, and put a little spruce on the top to help us keep dry. We haven't time to build a Noah's Ark, and it will be no end of a job for you to get the thing afloat by yourself."
The girl looked round and pointed to a little creek where the water was very still.
"I could build it afloat there. There's a gravelly bottom and it's not deep."
"Yes!" he said quickly. "That would be better!"
For an hour he sat there watching her work, and marking the swift progress of the fire. The heat grew tremendous, the roar of the flames and of crackling trees filled the air to the exclusion of all other sounds, and the pungent smoke made it difficult to breathe. He had begun to think that after all her endeavours had been in vain, when she approached him, sweat running down her flushed face, and drenched well above the knees.
"You will have to set your teeth," she said, "I shall have to carry you out to the raft."
It was no easy task to get him on to it, but she had pushed the raft well in the reeds so that it could not give, and though it was a painful operation for him, he was presently lying on a pile made of the tent canvas and blankets. Ten minutes later when he opened his eyes, they were afloat, and she was poling the raft into deeper water. She looked at him as his eyes opened.
"This raft is not quite so good as a punt—but it might be worse!"
"They're always awkward things," he said. "You ought to have had a sweep."