ait 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.

CHAPTER X.

A NIGHT OF STRANGE HAPPENINGS.

Winn's preparations for the night were of the simplest description,
because he had so little to prepare. The boy tried to console himself
with this thought. "If I had provisions I should have to cook," he
said to himself; "and if there is one thing in this world meaner than
another it is cooking. I never realized before what mother has to go
through with every day. Never complains of it, either. She's a
regular angel, though, and things always seem to go right with her.
Now with boys it's just the other way. See what a fix I've got into
all on account of being a boy, and trying to do things. Seems to me
that Gilder must have been a pretty patient sort of a boy to learn to
cook the way he does. I wonder if he ever gets into scrapes? He'd be
in one if he was in my place now, and I wish I knew how he'd get out of
it."

While thus thinking Winn was by no means idle. He cut a number of
bushes and leaned them against the ridge-pole of the "traders'" tent,
the frame of which they had left standing. This shelter was so
arranged as to form a wind-break on the north side of the fire, the
grateful warmth