"But how can we build a raft?" asked Beeby. "Do you expect us to cut down trees with our pocket-knives? It can't be done, Dick. We're in a bad way, and our only hope is a steamer sighting us."
"You get out!" cried Dick, vigorously. "We may starve before a steamer comes. We've got to get afloat before all our grub is gone, and that means we'll have to build a raft at once. I saw a lot of dead trees in the woods. They're light, and will float well. Then we can cut down some others with the hatchet."
"And tie 'em together with a fishline, I s'pose?" added Beeby, gloomily.
"Not at all, but if you've got a fishline I can see what you're going to be up against," spoke the young millionaire, quickly. "Go off and try to catch some fish, Beeby. We can fasten our raft together with wild vines. I tripped over enough in the forest to make a dozen rafts, and they're almost as strong as wire cable. Now, get busy, fellows, and we'll soon be afloat again."
Dick's enthusiasm and energy were contagious. In a short time they were all busy dragging small dead trees from the woods to the beach. The logs were laid criss-cross, and under Widdy's direction, were tied together with strong, trailing vines, of which there were many available.
To make the raft more secure, they cut down, with the hatchet, a number of saplings, which were bound in and out among the larger logs,
