“No, no, indeed!” exclaimed Natty. “We have had experience already of what would be our fate if we ventured into the water. But do you not think that the captain will come to look for us in the Giraffe when we do not return? He will never give us up without a search.”
“But you forget,” I said, “our friends do not expect us back for two or three days, so that they will not think of setting out till after that time, when they find we do not return.”
“And what shall we do in the meantime?”
Although an idea had occurred to me by which we could reach the shore, yet it was so perilous that I thought as long as we could find food on the island it might be prudent to stay there without attempting it. The day passed slowly away, and as evening approached I bethought me that we should wish to sleep.
“But what if a crocodile comes and picks us off?” said Natty. “That will not be pleasant.”
“Too true,” I said. “Then we must try and form a house in the trees.”
There were not many on the island. We selected one with wide-spreading branches, into which we could without difficulty climb.
“But when we are there,” said Natty, “how are we to sleep? As we cannot cling on like birds or monkeys, we should tumble off, for certain. I have it, though. Let us build a platform of bamboo; you have your hatchet, and we can soon form one large enough to hold us both.”
The idea I thought excellent, and immediately set to work to cut down a good supply of bamboos. As I cut them I handed them up to Natty, who fastened the ends with flexible creepers, of which there was an abundance around us. Before it was dark we had formed a flooring about six feet long and as many broad. We now climbed up, and sat ourselves down to contemplate our performance.
“Suppose no canoe passes, how shall we ever be able to get from this,” said Natty. “We are not going to live here for ever, I hope.”