“I don’t know; I’ll try it,” responded John. Pounding upon the bottom of the skiff where it had been broken when the boat had struck the rock, he succeeded in making a hole big enough to enable him to thrust the mast into the place.
“Never mind the handkerchiefs,” called Fred; “they will dry out and will be floating in the breeze pretty soon. Now the main thing for us to do is simply to hang on and wait until somebody sees that signal of distress.”
The moments passed slowly and to both boys there came an increasing fear that their plight was not likely to attract the attention of passing boats. Indeed, apparently there were no boats passing nearby. The low clouds of smoke in the distance were tantalizing in their effect upon the minds of the watching boys.
They had no means of estimating the passing of the time. Occasionally they glanced toward the sky into which the sun was steadily mounting, but they were neither in a condition to reflect calmly and so were unable to decide whether they had been in the water an hour or longer.
To their delight the skiff seemed to be easily able to hold them up in the water. Occasionally Fred let go his hold and swam about in the water to ‘start his circulation once more.’ Both were becoming chilled, although it was not yet midday.
At last the sun reached the zenith and slowly began its descent. The boys now were silent, for conversation had ceased long before this time. Each was watching the other, fearful that the strength of his friend was giving out. In such an event he was aware that he would be unable to render any positive assistance, as his own strength was steadily departing.
“Look yonder,” said Fred in a low voice when another hour had elapsed. As he spoke he glanced behind him and John quickly looked in the direction he indicated.
Not very far distant was a lake boat which apparently was passing far out of the usual course of the steamers.
“Do you suppose,” inquired Fred, “if we should shout together we might make them hear?”
“We can try it,” answered John.