“I rather think it was you, Dom, who gave expression to those boastful sentiments.”
“It may be so. At all events I hold them. Come, now, lend a hand and help me. The work will take some time, as we have no other implements than our gully-knives, but we’ll manage it somehow.”
“Can I not help you?” asked Pauline.
“Of course you can. Sit down on the bank here, and I’ll give you something to do presently.”
Dominick went, as he spoke, to a small tree, the bark of which was long, tough, and stringy. Cutting off a quantity of this, he took it to his sister, and showed her how to twist some of it into stout cordage. Leaving her busily at work on this, he went down to the nearest bamboo thicket and cut a stout cane. It took some time to cut, for the bamboo was hard and the knife small for such work. From the end of the cane he cut off a piece about a foot in length.
“Now, Otto, my boy, you split that into four pieces, and sharpen the end of each piece, while I cut off another foot of the bamboo.”
“But what are you going to do with these bits of stick?” asked Otto, as he went to work with a will.
“You shall see. No use in wasting time with explanations just now. I read of the plan in a book of travels. There’s nothing like a good book of travels to put one up to numerous dodges.”
“I’m not so sure o’ that,” objected the boy. “I have read Robinson Crusoe over and over, and over again, and I don’t recollect reading of his having made use of pegs to climb trees with.”
“Your memory may be at fault, perhaps. Besides, Robinson’s is not the only book of travels in the world,” returned Dominick, as he hacked away at the stout bamboo.