As It Was in the Beginning

by Philip Verrill Mighels

The molds he had made excited anew his various ambitions.

"To-morrow I shall start operations on the smelter," he told his companion. "No tools means no boat—and no boat means no escape."

Elaine felt a bound of excitement in her veins at the mere suggestion of escape. She inquired: "How long will it take to build your boat?"

"Can't tell," said Grenville, briefly. "Never built one on a toolless island before."

"I only meant about how long," Elaine explained. "It will take at least a week, I suppose."

"More likely two," he answered, as before. "Meantime I'm going fishing. Want to come?"

Elaine had little liking for any such off-hand invitation.

"Not at present, thank you." She turned away from him, coldly.

"It's an art and a sport you ought to cultivate," he informed her, cheerfully. "Might sometime keep you from starving." He gathered up the necessary paraphernalia, adding, "I hope the fish will bite," and started on his way.

He had fully two hundred feet of the line he had braided from fibers. It was thoroughly "waxed" with juices from the rubber tree, and although it was frequently knotted along its length, it was strong as a wire, and not inclined to kink.