“Say, we’re having luck, all right!” exclaimed Blake, when it was made certain that they were adrift again. “I thought we’d be stuck on that island for days.”
“So did I,” returned Joe. “Yes, we’ve had luck, of a certain kind, but it isn’t going to feed us,” and he looked at the shelves of that part of the cabin called the “pantry.” The shelves were empty of all save one small tin of corned beef, and a box of crackers. That, with coffee, must be their breakfast.
It seemed as though that night would never pass. Slowly it wore on, and, through the storm and darkness, through the rising water, floated the raft, bearing the rescue party onward. It was scarcely a rescue party any longer, however, being more in need of rescue itself.
But, desperate as their plight was, our friends had not given up hope of finding and saving the missing theatrical company. The chance and hope were slim indeed, but Blake, Joe and the two men were not of the sort that give up easily.
“Conditions must be fierce all along the river, the way the water keeps on rising,” said Blake, when the first faint streaks of dawn showed in the gray, leaden-colored sky.
“I should say so!” agreed Joe. “The river must have gone up almost a foot in the night, to lift us off the island. It took considerable power to pull the logs out of the mud where they were stuck.”
“I think the raft broke, and twisted away from the front logs,” was Blake’s opinion, and this, later, was found to be so. So firmly imbedded in the mud had been the jagged and sharp ends of the logs, that they had remained there. But the stern of the raft, rising, had broken the fastenings, and a section of it had been left on the island.
“All hands to breakfast!” called Mr. Piper, a little later. “And curb your appetites,” he added, grimly, as he pointed to the crackers and corned beef on the rough table. “Don’t ask for more than one helping of pie, only one slice of white turkey meat to a customer, and no gravy. What do you expect, anyhow?”
They made as merry as they could over the frugal repast, but it was really no joke. Fortunately the coffee held out, and they knew they could live on that for some time.
“If we could only work the raft to shore, or signal for help to some steamer, we’d be all right,” complained C. C. “But we can’t do it.”