Larry heaved a long sigh. "If only we could climb the tallest tree on the island and hang up a flag of distress," he ventured. "I'd hang up the very shirt I'm wearing if I thought it would do any good."
"So would I, lad, but it's only one chance in a thousand that any one would come along to see it. Let us look at it in a business light, as shore folks call it. Here we are and likely to stay for a good bit. Let us fix us up a shelter and fill our larder, if we can, and talk of what's best to do afterwards."
So it was arranged, and the next morning they set to work to build a hut in the best spot to be found. Of course they could cut down no trees, so they built the hut among a clump of five palms, making the sides and top of brushwood, bound together with strong vines which grew in profusion close at hand.
The finishing up of his place was entrusted to Larry, while Striker went off a whole day to "fill up the larder," as he had expressed it. The Yankee tar was very successful, having brought down several birds with his club and caught a dozen fish with a line made of a string he was fortunate enough to find in his pocket. For a hook for this line he had
