ALONE ON THE ISLAND.
Winn Caspar was indeed unhappy as he sat on that log and gazed
hopelessly out over the sparkling waters, on which the sun was now
shining brightly. Although he had explored only a portion of the
island, he felt that he was alone on it. But that was by no means the
worst 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 had
expected to float out into the great world, was gone, and he was
powerless to follow it. All through his own fault, too! This thought
was the hardest to bear. Why, even Elta would have known better. Of
course she would. Any one but he would, and she was wiser than almost
any one he knew. How dearly he loved this wise little sister, and to
think that he had parted with her in anger! When was that? Only last
evening! 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 come
and look for him yet. Perhaps he was even now on his way down the
river, and might be passing on the other side of the island.
With this thought the boy sprang to his feet, and hurrying to the head
of the island, eagerly scanned the waters of the main channel. There
was nothing in sight, not even a skiff or a canoe. "Even my dugout is
gone," thought Winn, with a fresh pang, for he was very fond of the
little craft that was all his own. Then he wondered how he should
attract his father's attention, and decided to build a fire, with the
hope that Major Caspar might come to it to make inquiries, and thus
effect his rescue.
Having a definite object to work for cheered the boy somewhat, and his
heart 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 new
difficulty seemed insurmountable; then he remembered having seen the
smouldering remains of a fire at the abandoned camp on the other side
of the island. He must go back to it at once.
Hurrying back around the head of the island, Winn reached the place
just in time to find a few embers still glowing faintly, and after
whittling a handful of shavings, he succeeded, by a great expenditure
of breath, in coaxing a tiny flame into life. Very carefully he piled
on dry chips, and then larger sticks, until finally he had a fire
warranted to live through a rain-storm. Now for another on the
opposite 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 he
only knew the most direct path. He would first discover this and then
return for his fire. Quite early in the search he stumbled across a
very narrow trail that seemed to lead in the right direction. By
following 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 see
that it went any farther.
Taking his bearings, after deciding to open a trail of his own from
there to the river, the boy attacked a thicket on the eastern side of
the clearing with his jack-knife. A few minutes of cutting carried him
through it, and, to his amazement, he found himself again in an
unmistakable trail. It was narrow and indistinct, but it was none the
less a trail, leading in the right direction, and the boy was woodman
enough to follow it without hesitation to the river-bank. A steamboat
was passing the island, but though Winn waved frantically to it and
shouted himself hoarse, no attention was paid to him. With a heavy
heart he watched it out of sight, and then began another collection of
wood for his signal-fire.
When it was made, he again crossed the island, selected a blazing stick
from the camp-fire, and started to retrace his steps. By the time he
reached the log-hut he found it necessary to stop and renew his blaze
by building a fire in the rude chimney. By thus establishing a relay
station he finally succeeded in getting a blaze to the desired spot on
the channel side of the island, and in starting a brisk fire at that
point.
Here the boy would have stayed and watched for the craft that he fondly
hoped would come to his deliverance; but it was now a long time since
breakfast, and his hard work had made him very hungry. He might find
something 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 until
satisfied that it would last for some hours. Then picking up a bit of
shingle 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.----WINN
CASPAR."
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 attract
attention. 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 vain
search for food. There was not so much as would have fed a mouse, and
the only thing of value that the boy discovered was a rusty fish-hook
stuck into one of the wall logs. Before leaving the hut he replenished
the fire in the chimney-place, thinking that perhaps he might return
there to sleep. Then he went on to the camp.
Here Winn's search for food was as unsuccessful as it had been at the
hut. He found a number of cooking utensils, battered and smoked, and
discovered an old axe still sticking in the log on which it had been
last used. He also found some bits of rope and cord. He knotted
together enough of the latter to make a rude line, attached his
fish-hook to it, cut a pole, dug some bait, and began to fish just
above the "river-traders'" boom. For some time he sat there,
patiently, but got no bites. The poor boy began to grow desperate with
hunger.
"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, the
water is cold enough to give me a cramp. I can make a raft of these
logs. Why didn't I think of it before?"
Thrusting the butt end of his pole into the soft earth of the bank, and
weighting it with a good, sized stone, the boy went to the boom to
examine its contents. There were plenty of logs suitable for the
foundation of a raft, and more than enough lumber to deck it
handsomely. But what was that brown stuff filling so many of the
crevices between the logs and timbers?
"Wheat, as I'm a living boy!" exclaimed Winn, stooping and gathering
some of the stuff in his hands. "Wheat! but where can it have come
from? Did the _Venture_ suddenly break up and go to pieces after all,
as Mr. Gilder said she would?" If so, then the situation was worse
than he had supposed, for until now the boy had entertained some hopes
of being able to follow and perhaps recover the raft, especially if his
father should come along and discover him. But if the raft were broken
up, as the presence of this wheat seemed to indicate, then its loss was
indeed total and irreparable.
"But if they have not gone off with the raft, what has become of those
river traders?" argued the boy with himself. "They might have followed
the broken sections, or even gone off on one of them. I believe that's
what they have done!" he exclaimed aloud. "That accounts for their
leaving in such a hurry, and taking their provisions with them. I
didn't think that Gilder was such a bad sort of a chap after all. Now
he is pretty sure to come back for me after he has secured what he can
from the wreck. But what am I to do for something to eat in the mean
time? If I could only catch a fish!"
Just then there was a great commotion in the water, and the pole left
sticking in the bank began to bend ominously. Winn sprang towards it;
but as he stretched out his hand it flew back into position, and the
flurry in the water subsided. The wretched line had parted, and the
big 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 was
that he had taken Winn's only hook with him, and so put an end to any
further efforts for his capture.
The boy could have cried with hunger and vexation. It wouldn't have
done him any good, though, and he knew it; so he began to gather a tin
cup full of the water-soaked wheat instead. This he set on a bed of
coals to boil, and was so hungry that he could not wait for it to be
done, but ate it half raw, without salt, butter, sugar, syrup, milk, or
anything that serves to render such food palatable, and only partially
cooked at that, it still seemed to Winn one of the best things he had
ever eaten, and he immediately started the cooking of another mess.
There was not much of the wheat in sight, and to secure a second cupful
the boy scraped up every grain that he could find.
"After this comes starvation," thought Winn; "unless I can get away
from 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 thus
secured enough to lash together four of the largest logs. Above these
he laid a platform of boards, and longed for some nails with which to
fasten them in place. He did remarkably well considering his limited
means, and by sunset had completed a raft that would more than support
his weight. If he could only keep it clear of snags and reefs it would
also bear him in safety down the river, to some place where there were
suppers and breakfasts to be had.
It would not do to attempt the voyage on such a frail structure in the
dark, of course; and so, at sunset, Winn reluctantly began his
preparations for passing a night of loneliness on the island.