much else to do. Gracious, ain't I glad I ain't alone."
"So am I," was my warm rejoinder. "We'll live or die together."
"I ain't much afraid of dying, now you are with me."
Planting the oar for a mast was no easy matter. Of course we did not attempt to do it until we had made the boom, and also a small crosstree at the top, from which we suspended the sail, not very artistically, it is true, but in such a fashion that it drew very well.
"There we are!" cried Phil, when the task was accomplished. "What's the matter with that?"
"Nothing," I replied. And then added with a laugh:
"Let us go into a firm: Jones & Foster, Boatbuilders and Sailmakers."
Phil laughed heartily.
"You're right! I'm glad it's up. It looks more like a regular boat now."
"It will act as a signal as well as a sail," I replied, "and we need both."
"Now we've got the sail, how are we going to steer, and in what direction? The ocean looks all alike to me."
"We will have to be guided by the sun. I know
