He went to work as on the other occasion, at the time they were preparing against the coming of this storm. Only now he had to accept just such substitutes as the island afforded.
Fortunately it was wooded, so that they need not lack for material. Some of the rocks offered a chance to build up side walls, over which the roof might slope, to shed the rain that was still coming down.
It took time to accomplish all this, but promised to repay their efforts. When the shelter was in a fair way toward being finished, Bob set to work starting a fire. Luckily he kept his tinder in a little waterproof box, held within his bag; and it had not suffered from his immersion in the river.
An adept with flint and steel, he quickly had the sparks flying, and a blaze began to spring up. This was fed with bits of dry wood, torn from the heart of a partly-dead tree, until there was enough fire to seize upon anything offered in the way of fuel.
"How good that feels!" declared the shivering Sandy, holding out his hands toward the leaping flames.
"I agree with you," answered Bob, smiling just as of yore, as if the terrible events of the last half hour were only a dream.
They cowered there under their shelter while their garments steamed in the now genial heat. With every passing minute both boys were feeling better. Sandy even began to cast covetous glances toward the buffalo meat, which was lying close at hand, as though his customary appetite had once more started to let him know growing boys must be often fed.
Seeing this, Bob nodded his head. He was feeling drowsy, for the natural reaction after his recent tremendous exertions had set in; and this was augmented by the delicious warmth of the fine fire.
So Sandy started to find a lot of reeds that would answer for toasting forks, on which bits of meat could be brought to a delightful stage when placed close to the blaze.
"It's stopped raining, Bob!" he declared, as he returned after his foraging expedition with all the reeds needed.