“Well, if we can make the bank in safety, I, for one, will not complain of the distance,” declared Bob. “How is your gun fixed now; are you sure that it will hold safe, even if we should knock up against another log?”
“Yes, it is fast to the tree trunk, and can never slip loose,” returned Sandy. “The more I think of this plan of yours, the better I like it, Bob. Once we are in the water, and swimming, we can urge the log toward the shore, a foot at a time, it may be, but with a constant pressure, until at last we find that we can touch bottom. Then for a fire, and warming up, for I fear by that time both of us will be chilled to the bone.”
“And if your lame ankle is so bad that it prevents our getting back to-night, why, Sandy, what should hinder us from making camp in the forest, under some ledge, where we can keep out of the rain? Then, when morning comes, we can follow up the river until we reach our home again.”
“It makes me feel better to hear you talk like that, Bob,” declared the younger of the two. “I wonder what I would have done without you?”
“Perhaps just what we mean to do right now,” Bob went on to say. “The trouble is, Sandy, you will not think for yourself, when you have me to depend on. You must remember what father told you once, that every tub ought to stand on its own bottom. But Simon Kenton tells me he was just such a youngster, until he found himself thrown on his own resources. It was the making of him, he declares; because such things are apt to bring out all there is in a boy.”
Both of them were still diligently working to secure their possessions safely to the friendly trunk, which, having been the means of their disaster, now seemed willing to make reparation as best it could by offering them an asylum for those things which otherwise must have gone into the river with them.
It had, by now, grown so dark that all they could see was a stretch of about thirty feet or so of surging water on either side of them. Ahead, a similar unending panorama opened up, and, had they chosen to turn their heads in order to cast a backward glance, they would have looked upon the same dismal spectacle.
“There,” said Sandy at last, “that job is done, and I’m ready to pull off my tunic, hunting shirt, and coonskin cap, which I’ll make up into a bundle, and fasten with this last long thong. But, Bob, before we do that, and go overboard, it seems to me we ought to give a last shout for help. There is about one chance in a thousand that some person in a boat may hear us.”
“We’ll take that chance, then, Sandy,” echoed Bob. “So, ready now, and shout when I do, with all your might!”
Again did their lusty young voices ring out over the flood. Once, twice, thrice they gave tongue, and then, pausing, listened to see if by chance there came any welcome reply. Immediately Sandy gave a low bubbling cry of satisfaction.