The others thought so, too, and began an onslaught which lasted until their hunger was considerably appeased. Then, despite a drizzly rain, they wandered back to the river, and ran up and down the banks to keep warm. The top of Promontory Island could be faintly seen between the canyon walls.
"If we only had some matches, it might be worth while to build a fire," remarked Sam. "Old Neil Prescott would be sure to see it."
"But Bill Dugan said that no one could ascend the river from below," declared Bob.
"And no one's coming the way we did. What can be done, Dave?"
"Eat blackberries, and hope," counseled the "poet," and, as Sam made an impatient gesture, he added, "Until to-morrow, at least."
"And to-morrow?" said Sam.
But his question remained unanswered.
Soon they sought shelter under a thick clump of trees.
"Seems a pity that such a beautiful little place should be hidden," remarked the "poet," thoughtfully. "Remember the poem,
"'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen