He nodded toward the stern of the raft, and, looming up in the darkness, could be seen a sort of shack, or shanty. It was where the raftmen did their cooking, eating and sleeping, while navigating the big collection of logs down the river.
“Let’s see what sort of place it is,” Blake went on. “Maybe there are bunks in it, and a stove where we can cook what stuff we’ve got left,” and he looked at the little pile of food they had been able to save from the sinking boat.
CHAPTER XXI
ADRIFT AGAIN
“Not so bad.”
“That’s right! It might be a whole lot worse.”
“It’s rough, but we can stand it.”
“We’ve got to. There’s no going ashore while this flood keeps up.”
Thus, in turn, Blake, Joe, Mr. Ringold and C. C. commented, as they stood in the doorway of the slab shack erected on the stern of the lumber raft. Blake had lighted the lantern he had taken the precaution to save from the sinking motor boat, and this gave light enough to see the interior of the cabin that must be their abiding place, for how long they could not tell.
“Well, there’s a place where we can stretch out, anyhow,” said Blake, after a pause.
“And a stove to cook on, and plenty of wood for fires,” added Joe, as he looked down at the raft. “It won’t be so bad, after all.”