"There, that will keep our stuff dry for a while, anyhow," remarked Dick. "Now about taking some fresh water along; what would you advise, Widdy?"
"Water's going to be our worst trouble," declared the old sailor. "But we've got quite a few tins that's had food in 'em. We can fill those, and by only taking a small sip when we're dry it may last us until we are picked up. If it doesn't" He did not finish, but the boys knew what he meant—they would suffer terribly.
For two days more they worked on the raft, for they knew their very lives would depend on its stability, and Dick would take no chances. They even made a sort of awning on it—a shelter from the sun—using old bags. Then a good-sized cask was luckily cast ashore by the tide, one morning, and that served admirably to hold a good supply of water.
All this while a sharp lookout had been kept for passing vessels, but, though once or twice smoke from steamers, hull down on the horizon, had been seen, none approached the island, and the tattered signals fluttered desolately in the wind. But Dick and his marooned chums were too busy to give up hope.
"If we only had more food I wouldn't worry so much," said the young millionaire, the night before they were to start off on the raft. "Our supply is getting lower, and, though we can take along a lot of clams, and maybe catch some fish,
