er is cold enough to give me a cramp. I can make a raft of these
logs. Why didn't I think of it before?"

Thrusting the butt end of his pole into the soft earth of the bank, and
weighting it with a good, sized stone, the boy went to the boom to
examine its contents. There were plenty of logs suitable for the
foundation of a raft, and more than enough lumber to deck it
handsomely. But what was that brown stuff filling so many of the
crevices between the logs and timbers?

"Wheat, as I'm a living boy!" exclaimed Winn, stooping and gathering
some of the stuff in his hands. "Wheat! but where can it have come
from? Did the _Venture_ suddenly break up and go to pieces after all,
as Mr. Gilder said she would?" If so, then the situation was worse
than he had supposed, for until now the boy had entertained some hopes
of being able to follow and perhaps recover the raft, especially if his
father should come along and discover him. But if the raft were broken
up, as the presence of this wheat seemed to indicate, then its loss was
indeed total and irreparable.

"But if they have not gone off with the raft, what has become of those
river traders?" argued the boy with himself. "They might have followed
the broken sections, or even gone off on one of them. I believe that's
what they have done!" he exclaimed aloud. "That accounts for their
leaving in such a hurry, and taking their provisions with them. I
didn't think that Gilder was such a bad sort of a chap after all. Now
he is pretty sure to come back for me after he has secured what he can
from the wreck. But what am I to do for something to eat in the mean
time? If I could only catch a fish!"

Just then there was a great commotion in the water, and the pole left
sticking in the bank began to bend ominously. Winn sprang towards it;
but as he stretched out his hand it flew back into position, and the
flurry in the water subsided. The wretched line had parted, and the
big catfish, from which the boy could have made such a capital supper,
was seeking the deepest hole in the river. The worst of it all was
that he had taken Winn's only hook with him, and so put an end to any
further efforts for his capture.

The boy could have cried with hunger and vexation. It wouldn't have
done him any good, though, and he knew it; so he began to gather a tin
cup full of the water-soaked wheat instead. This he set on a bed of
coals to boil, and was so hungry that he could not w