ns. The boat, thus turned topsy-turvy,
looked like a huge walnut shell covered with red and reeking hide,
or the skull of some Titan who had been scalped. "There!" cried Rufus
Dawes, triumphant. "Twelve hours in the sun to tighten the hides, and
she'll swim like a duck."

The next day was spent in minor preparations. The jerked goat-meat was
packed securely into as small a compass as possible. The rum barrel was
filled with water, and water bags were improvised out of portions of
the intestines of the goats. Rufus Dawes, having filled these last with
water, ran a wooden skewer through their mouths, and twisted it tight,
tourniquet fashion. He also stripped cylindrical pieces of bark, and
having sewn each cylinder at the side, fitted to it a bottom of the same
material, and caulked the seams with gum and pine-tree resin. Thus four
tolerable buckets were obtained. One goatskin yet remained, and out of
that it was determined to make a sail. "The currents are strong," said
Rufus Dawes, "and we shall not be able to row far with such oars as we
have got. If we get a breeze it may save our lives." It was impossible
to "step" a mast in the frail basket structure, but this difficulty was
overcome by a simple contrivance. From thwart to thwart two poles were
bound, and the mast, lashed between these poles with thongs of raw hide,
was secured by shrouds of twisted fishing line running fore and aft.
Sheets of bark were placed at the bottom of the craft, and made a safe
flooring. It was late in the afternoon on the fourth day when these
preparations were completed, and it was decided that on the morrow they
should adventure the journey. "We will coast down to the Bar," said
Rufus Dawes, "and wait for the slack of the tide. I can do no more now."

Sylvia, who had seated herself on a rock at a little distance, called
to them. Her strength was restored by the fresh meat, and her childish
spirits had risen with the hope of safety. The mercurial little creature
had wreathed seaweed about her head, and holding in her hand a long twig
decorated with a tuft of leaves to represent a wand, she personified one
of the heroines of her books.

"I am the Queen of the Island," she said merrily, "and you are my
obedient subjects. Pray, Sir Eglamour, is the boat ready?"

"It is, your Majesty," said poor Dawes.

"Then we will see it. Come, walk in front of me. I won't ask you to
rub your nose upon the ground, like Man Friday, because that would be