“You impudent rascal!” exclaimed George. “I’ve a good mind to come on shore and give you a flogging!” “I wish you’d try it,” said Robert significantly. “You might find yourself no match for a fisherman’s boy.” “I suppose you’d like to get me on shore so that you might run off with my boat?” sneered George. “I wouldn’t leave you on the island, at any rate, if I did secure the boat,” said Robert. “Well, I won’t gratify you,” returned George, “I don’t care to have my boat soiled by such a passenger.” “You’ll get paid for your meanness some time, George Randolph.” “I’ve taken too much notice of you already, you low fisherman,” said George. “I hope you’ll have a good time staying here all night.” He began to row away, and as his boat receded Robert saw departing with it the best chance he had yet had of escape from his irksome captivity. “I didn’t suppose any boy could be so contemptibly mean,” he reflected as his glance followed the boat, which gradually grew smaller and smaller as it drew near the mainland. “I don’t think I’m fond of quarreling, but I wish I could get hold of that boy for five minutes.” Robert’s indignation was natural, but it was ineffective. He might breathe out threats, but while he was a prisoner his aristocratic foe was riding quickly over the waves. “He rows well,” thought our hero, willing to do George justice in that respect. “I didn’t think a city boy could row so well. I don’t believe I could row any better myself, though I’ve been used to a boat ever since I was six years old.” But it would not do to spend all the afternoon in watching George and his boat or he would lose all chance of getting away himself before nightfall. With a sigh he resumed work on the raft which he had hoped he could afford to dispense with and finally got it so far completed that he thought he might trust himself on it. Robert was a little solicitous about the strength of his raft. It must be admitted that, though he had done the best he could, it was rather a rickety concern. If the nails had been all whole and new and he had had a good hammer and strong boards he could easily have made a satisfactory raft. But the materials at his command were by no means of the best. The nails were nearly all rusty, some were snapped off in the middle and his stone did not work with the precision of a regular hammer. “If it will only hold together till I can get to shore,” he thought, “I won’t care if it goes to pieces the next minute. It seems a little shaky, though. I must try to find a few more nails. It may increase the strength of it.” There was an end of a beam projecting from the sand, just at his feet. Robert expected that probably he might by unearthing it find somewhere about it a few nails, and he accordingly commenced operations. If he had had a shovel or a spade, he could have worked to better advantage, but as it was he was forced to content himself with a large shell which he picked up near the shore.