"Oh, I'm so sorry," said the younger lad contritely.
"That's all right," spoke Frank kindly. "You couldn't help it. We had no sleep last night. Now you get back where you came from," he ordered the man.
"Aren't you going to help me. I can't walk."
"Then roll in the same as you rolled out."
There was no help for it, and the prisoner, muttering threats against the lads, was forced to roll over and over on the sand until he was back in his shelter. Thereafter Andy and Frank both stayed awake until morning came.
They resumed work on the raft immediately after a hasty breakfast. In order that their prisoner might be taken to the mainland, or out as far as they might go before a ship picked them up, they made a sort of platform, on which he could sit. They also improvised a mast on which they stretched a piece of canvas they found in the wrecked motor boat. By noon their rude vessel was completed.
"Now for the launching," exclaimed Frank. "It's nearly high tide, and if we can work it a little farther down the beach the tide will do the heaviest work for us. Then we'll go aboard."
"I'm not going on that thing!" snarled their prisoner.
"Yes, you are, if we have to carry you," declared Frank.
"But I may be drowned. You ought to take off these ropes if you're going to do such a fool-hardy thing as to sail on that raft."