This was not in itself an alarming amount. A canoe twelve feet long by three wide, and drawing one foot of water, will displace about twenty-four cubic feet, and these dimensions were considerably less than those of the canoe-yawl that I had built at Ramsgate. But there was the weight of the vessel itself--which must be strong to carry this weight, and withstand the rough usage that it would certainly meet with--and this I could hardly estimate until I had decided on the materials of which it was to be made. Reckoning it, however, provisionally at three hundred-weight (which was probably excessive), a canoe twelve feet long by three and a half wide, and drawing one foot, would answer the purpose, for a vessel of these dimensions would displace twenty-nine cubic feet of water, or three cubic feet more than was necessary. The question of materials had next to be considered. Of what was the canoe to be made? A “dug-out” or hollowed log I at once rejected, for not only is such a vessel clumsy and very heavy, but the making of one involves the felling of a tree, the shaping of the log, and the digging out of its interior--a task quite beyond my powers, seeing that my entire outfit of tools consisted of two knives, a spear, and the packet of large needles that I had bought at Taari. Evidently the canoe would have to be made on the principle of a coracle--a framework of wicker or lashed sticks with a covering of some sort, and this covering was the real crux of the situation. As to the frame, I felt confident of being able to build that without difficulty, but the covering gave me pause. The Britons covered their coracles with hide, but it was tanned hide, which I could not procure. The Eskimo cover their canoes with untanned skin; but they navigate frozen seas, whereas the tepid waters of the Tropics would reduce such skin to putrefying pulp in forty-eight hours. Suddenly I bethought me of the birch-bark canoes of the Redskins, and with a thrill of exultation I felt that the difficulty was solved. For the forest abounded in the Hon-ton tree, to the tough, canvas-like bark of which Isaaku had introduced me; and this material, easy to obtain and to work, would form an ideal covering or skin for my canoe. It was true that the bark was rather porous, and so not very watertight, but it would be hard if I could not devise some means for filling the pores. At any rate, the main difficulty was disposed of, and with a sigh of satisfaction I lay down upon the mat that covered my bed, and drawing Aminé’s mat over me by way of bedclothes, settled myself for the night. CHAPTER XXIV. I RETURN TO AN OLD TRADE.