This he managed, with the aid of some stones, to fasten in an upright position, and then they sat down to watch for a passing sail. "Buffaro Bill so s'eepy," announced that small person, and, with fat old Boffin for a pillow, Rosy Posy calmly dropped off into a morning nap. But the others suffered various dreadful vicissitudes. They were attacked by wild beasts, which, though entirely imaginary, required almost as much killing as if they had been real. Kitty shot or lassoed a great many, but she declined to engage in the hand-to-hand encounters with tigers and wolves, such as Marjorie and Kingdon undertook, for fear she'd be thrown down on the ground. And, indeed, her fears were well founded, for the valiant fighters were often thrown by their fierce adversaries, and rolled over and over, only to pick themselves up and renew the fray. More exciting still was an attack from the natives of the island. They were horrible savages, with tomahawks, and they approached with blood-curdling yells. Needless to say that, after a fearful battle, the natives were all slain or put to rout, and the conquerors, exhausted but triumphant, sat round their camp-fire and boasted of their valorous deeds. As noontime drew near, the settlers on the island began to grow hungry again, and, strange to say, the imaginary birds they shot and ate were not entirely satisfying. Buffalo Bill, too, waked up, and demanded a jink of water. But none could leave the island and brave the perils of the boundless ocean, unless in a rescuing ship. For a long time they waited. They waved their white flag, and they even shouted for help. But the "island" was at some distance from the house or street and none came to rescue them. At last, they saw a huge, white-covered wagon slowly moving along the back drive. "A sail! A sail!" cried the Captain. "What, ho! Help! Help!" The other shipwrecked ones joined the cry, and soon the wagon drew a little nearer, and then stopped. "Help! Help!" cried the children in chorus. It was the butcher's wagon, and they knew it well, but this season there was a new driver who didn't know the Maynard children. "What's the matther?" he cried, jumping from his seat, and running across the grass to the quartette. "We're shipwrecked!" cried Marjorie. "We can't get home. Oh, save us from a cruel fate! Carry us back to our far-away fireside!" "Help!" cried Kitty, faintly. "My child is ill, and I can no longer survive!" Dramatic Kitty sank in a heap on the ground, and the butcher's boy was more bewildered than ever. "Save me!" cried Rosy Posy, toddling straight to him, and putting up her arms. "Save Buffaro Bill first,--me an' Boffin." This was more intelligible, and the butcher's boy picked up the smiling child, and with a few long strides reached his cart, and deposited her therein. "Me next! Me next!" screamed Marjorie. "I'm fainting, too!" With a thud, she fell in a heap beside Kitty.