Raftmates: A Story of the Great River

by Kirk Munroe

  CHAPTER IX.

  ALONE ON THE ISLAND.

  Winn Caspar was indeed unhappy as he sat on that log and gazedhopelessly out over the sparkling waters, on which the sun was nowshining brightly. Although he had explored only a portion of theisland, he felt that he was alone on it. But that was by no means theworst of the situation. The raft in which he had taken so much pride,his father's raft upon which so much depended, the raft on which he hadexpected to float out into the great world, was gone, and he waspowerless to follow it. All through his own fault, too! This thoughtwas the hardest to bear. Why, even Elta would have known better. Ofcourse she would. Any one but he would, and she was wiser than almostany one he knew. How dearly he loved this wise little sister, and tothink that he had parted with her in anger! When was that? Only lastevening! Impossible! It must have been weeks ago. It wasn't, though!It was only a few hours ago, and his father had hardly had time to comeand look for him yet. Perhaps he was even now on his way down theriver, and might be passing on the other side of the island.

  With this thought the boy sprang to his feet, and hurrying to the headof the island, eagerly scanned the waters of the main channel. Therewas nothing in sight, not even a skiff or a canoe. "Even my dugout isgone," thought Winn, with a fresh pang, for he was very fond of thelittle craft that was all his own. Then he wondered how he shouldattract his father's attention, and decided to build a fire, with thehope that Major Caspar might come to it to make inquiries, and thuseffect his rescue.

  Having a definite object to work for cheered the boy somewhat, and hisheart grew sensibly lighter as he began to collect wood for his fire.But how should he light it? He had no matches. For a moment this newdifficulty seemed insurmountable; then he remembered having seen thesmouldering remains of a fire at the abandoned camp on the other sideof the island. He must go back to it at once.

  Hurrying back around the head of the island, Winn reached the placejust in time to find a few embers still glowing faintly, and afterwhittling a handful of shavings, he succeeded, by a great expenditureof breath, in coaxing a tiny flame into life. Very carefully he piledon dry chips, and then larger sticks, until finally he had a firewarranted to live through a rain-storm. Now for another on theopposite side of the island!

  He could not carry lighted sticks the way he had come. It was too far.He thought he could get them safely across the island, though, if heonly knew the most direct path. He would first discover this and thenreturn for his fire. Quite early in the search he stumbled across avery narrow trail that seemed to lead in the right direction. Byfollowing it he came once more to the deserted log-hut in the forest,but search through the little clearing as he might, he could not seethat it went any farther.

  Taking his bearings, after deciding to open a trail of his own fromthere to the river, the boy attacked a thicket on the eastern side ofthe clearing with his jack-knife. A few minutes of cutting carried himthrough it, and, to his amazement, he found himself again in anunmistakable trail. It was narrow and indistinct, but it was none theless a trail, leading in the right direction, and the boy was woodmanenough to follow it without hesitation to the river-bank. A steamboatwas passing the island, but though Winn waved frantically to it andshouted himself hoarse, no attention was paid to him. With a heavyheart he watched it out of sight, and then began another collection ofwood for his signal-fire.

  When it was made, he again crossed the island, selected a blazing stickfrom the camp-fire, and started to retrace his steps. By the time hereached the log-hut he found it necessary to stop and renew his blazeby building a fire in the rude chimney. By thus establishing a relaystation he finally succeeded in getting a blaze to the desired spot onthe channel side of the island, and in starting a brisk fire at thatpoint.

  Here the boy would have stayed and watched for the craft that he fondlyhoped would come to his deliverance; but it was now a long time sincebreakfast, and his hard work had made him very hungry. He might findsomething to eat at that abandoned camp, which he had not yet examined.At any rate he would go and look. So he piled logs on his fire untilsatisfied that it would last for some hours. Then picking up a bit ofshingle from the beach, he wrote on it with the stump of a lead-pencil:

  "I am on the island. Follow the trail and you will find me.----WINNCASPAR."

  This note he stuck in a cleft sapling, from which he first cut the top,and which stood so near the fire that it was certain to attractattention. Then feeling that he could do nothing more in that place,he set forth in search of something with which to satisfy his hunger.On his way back he stopped at the hut, and made a thorough but vainsearch for food. There was not so much as would have fed a mouse, andthe only thing of value that the boy discovered was a rusty fish-hookstuck into one of the wall logs. Before leaving the hut he replenishedthe fire in the chimney-place, thinking that perhaps he might returnthere to sleep. Then he went on to the camp.

  Here Winn's search for food was as unsuccessful as it had been at thehut. He found a number of cooking utensils, battered and smoked, anddiscovered an old axe still sticking in the log on which it had beenlast used. He also found some bits of rope and cord. He knottedtogether enough of the latter to make a rude line, attached hisfish-hook to it, cut a pole, dug some bait, and began to fish justabove the "river-traders'" boom. For some time he sat there,patiently, but got no bites. The poor boy began to grow desperate withhunger.

  "I declare! I've a great mind to swim for the main-land," he said,aloud. "No I won't, though. I can do better than that. Besides, thewater is cold enough to give me a cramp. I can make a raft of theselogs. Why didn't I think of it before?"

  Thrusting the butt end of his pole into the soft earth of the bank, andweighting it with a good, sized stone, the boy went to the boom toexamine its contents. There were plenty of logs suitable for thefoundation of a raft, and more than enough lumber to deck ithandsomely. But what was that brown stuff filling so many of thecrevices between the logs and timbers?

  "Wheat, as I'm a living boy!" exclaimed Winn, stooping and gatheringsome of the stuff in his hands. "Wheat! but where can it have comefrom? Did the _Venture_ suddenly break up and go to pieces after all,as Mr. Gilder said she would?" If so, then the situation was worsethan he had supposed, for until now the boy had entertained some hopesof being able to follow and perhaps recover the raft, especially if hisfather should come along and discover him. But if the raft were brokenup, as the presence of this wheat seemed to indicate, then its loss wasindeed total and irreparable.

  "But if they have not gone off with the raft, what has become of thoseriver traders?" argued the boy with himself. "They might have followedthe broken sections, or even gone off on one of them. I believe that'swhat they have done!" he exclaimed aloud. "That accounts for theirleaving in such a hurry, and taking their provisions with them. Ididn't think that Gilder was such a bad sort of a chap after all. Nowhe is pretty sure to come back for me after he has secured what he canfrom the wreck. But what am I to do for something to eat in the meantime? If I could only catch a fish!"

  Just then there was a great commotion in the water, and the pole leftsticking in the bank began to bend ominously. Winn sprang towards it;but as he stretched out his hand it flew back into position, and theflurry in the water subsided. The wretched line had parted, and thebig catfish, from which the boy could have made such a capital supper,was seeking the deepest hole in the river. The worst of it all wasthat he had taken Winn's only hook with him, and so put an end to anyfurther efforts for his capture.

  The boy could have cried with hunger and vexation. It wouldn't havedone him any good, though, and he knew it; so he began to gather a tincup full of the water-soaked wheat instead. This he set on a bed ofcoals to boil, and was so hungry that he could not wait for it to bedone, but ate it half raw, without salt, butter, sugar, syrup, milk, oranything that serves to render such food palatable, and only partiallycooked at that, it still seemed to Winn one of the best things he hadever e
aten, and he immediately started the cooking of another mess.There was not much of the wheat in sight, and to secure a second cupfulthe boy scraped up every grain that he could find.

  "After this comes starvation," thought Winn; "unless I can get awayfrom this island, and I am going to begin work on that raft at once."

  He carefully collected every bit of rope he could find, and thussecured enough to lash together four of the largest logs. Above thesehe laid a platform of boards, and longed for some nails with which tofasten them in place. He did remarkably well considering his limitedmeans, and by sunset had completed a raft that would more than supporthis weight. If he could only keep it clear of snags and reefs it wouldalso bear him in safety down the river, to some place where there weresuppers and breakfasts to be had.

  It would not do to attempt the voyage on such a frail structure in thedark, of course; and so, at sunset, Winn reluctantly began hispreparations for passing a night of loneliness on the island.