There, on the waters, rode a rude raft made of several empty boxes and crates. On the top of this affair stood a campstool, and on the stool sat Tom Rover, making himself as comfortable as possible.
"Tom!" the others yelled in concert, and the fun-loving Rover looked around eagerly.
"Hello, you!" he called back. "How many?"
"Three," answered Sam. "Dick, Hans, and myself."
"Good enough."
"You certainly seem to be taking it easy," said Dick, as the two rude rafts floated close to each other.
"Well, why not take it easy if it doesn't cost any more?" demanded Tom, coolly. "I either had to sit on the chair or in the water, and I preferred to sit on the chair."
"Do you know anything about the others, Tom?"
"No, but I am afraid they are drowned," and now the fun-loving Rover became serious.
"What makes you think that?" asked Sam.
"I think the steamer went down with nearly, everybody on board."
"Dot is teirible!" burst out Hans. "Poor Fred! Und poor Songpird! Vot vill der folks say ven da hear dot?" And he shook his head, dubiously.
