It stood high on a cut bank, and just below it a rude boom held a
miscellaneous assortment of logs, lumber, and odd wreckage, all of it
evidently collected from the stray drift of the great river.
From the edge of the bank, a short distance from this camp, the man
commanded a good view of the stranded raft, and for several minutes he
stood gazing at it. "There's the very thing to a T, that we want," he
said to himself. "Not too big for us to handle, and yet large enough
to make it seem an object for us to take it down the river. I can't
see what they want of three shanties, though; one ought to be enough
for all the crew she needs. Our first move would be to tear down two
of them, and lengthen the other; that alone would be a sufficient
disguise. We haven't got her yet, though, and she isn't abandoned
either, for there's smoke coming from that middle shanty. I reckon the
cook must be aboard, and maybe he'll sell the whole outfit for cash,
and so give us a clear title to it." Here Mr. Gilder smiled as though
the thought was most amusing. "I'll go off and interview him anyway,
and I'd better be about it too, for the river is still rising. She
won't hang there much longer, and if the fellow found his raft afloat
again before a bargain was made he might not come to terms. In that
case we should be obliged to take forcible possession, which would be
risky.
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