"That fellow never knew what hit him," I remarked. "He did n't get up for half a minute."
"Must 'a' swatted 'im powerful," said D'ri, as he felt his knuckles. "Gol-dum ther picturs! Go 'n' try t' yank a man right off a boat like thet air when they hain' no right t' tech 'im. Ef I 'd 'a' hed Ol' Beeswax, some on 'em 'd 'a' got hurt."
"How did you get here?" I inquired.
"Swum," said he. "Could n't go nowheres else. Current fetched me here. Splits et the head o' the island—boun' ter land ye right here. Got t' be movin'. They 'll be efter us, mebbe—'s the fust place they 'd look."
A few logs were stranded on the stony point of the island. We withed three others to mine, setting sail with two bits of driftwood for paddles. We pulled for the south shore, but the current carried us rapidly down-river. In a bay some two miles below we found, to our joy, the two sections of the big raft undergoing repairs. At daybreak D'ri put off in the woods for home.
"Don't like the idee o' goin' int' the British
