It wasn't, though!
It was only a few hours ago, and his father had hardly had time to come
and look for him yet. Perhaps he was even now on his way down the
river, and might be passing on the other side of the island.
With this thought the boy sprang to his feet, and hurrying to the head
of the island, eagerly scanned the waters of the main channel. There
was nothing in sight, not even a skiff or a canoe. "Even my dugout is
gone," thought Winn, with a fresh pang, for he was very fond of the
little craft that was all his own. Then he wondered how he should
attract his father's attention, and decided to build a fire, with the
hope that Major Caspar might come to it to make inquiries, and thus
effect his rescue.
Having a definite object to work for cheered the boy somewhat, and his
heart grew sensibly lighter as he began to collect wood for his fire.
But how should he light it? He had no matches. For a moment this new
difficulty seemed insurmountable; then he remembered having seen the
smouldering remains of a fire at the abandoned camp on the other side
of the island. He must go back to it at once.
Hurrying back around the head of the island, Winn reached the place
just in time to find a few embers still glowing faintly, and after
whittling a handful of shavings, he succeeded, by a great expenditure
of breath, in coaxing a tiny flame into life.
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