“That we can do, my boy,” answered the sailor, “and these Chimneys will just serve our purpose. But first we must get together some firing. Wood will be useful, too, in blocking up these great holes through which the wind whistles so shrilly.” Herbert and Pencroff left the Chimneys, and turning the angle, walked up the left bank of the river, whose current was strong enough to bring down a quantity of dead wood. The return tide, which had already begun, would certainly carry it in the ebb to a great distance. “Why not utilize this flux and reflux,” thought the sailor, “in the carriage of heavy timber?” After a quarter of an hour’s walk, the two reached the elbow which the river made in turning to the left. From this point onward it flowed through a forest of magnificent trees, which had preserved their verdure in spite of the season; for they belonged to that great cone-bearing family indigenous everywhere, from the poles to the tropics. Especially conspicuous were the “deodara,” so numerous in the Himalayas, with their pungent perfume. Among them were clusters of pines, with tall trunks and spreading parasols of green. The ground was strewn with fallen branches, so dry as to crackle under their feet. “Good,” said the sailor, “I may not know the name of these trees, but I know they belong to the genus firewood, and that’s the main thing for us.” It was an easy matter to gather the firewood. They did not need even to strip the trees; plenty of dead branches lay at their feet. This dry wood would burn rapidly, and they would need a large supply. How could two men carry such a load to the Chimneys? Herbert asked the question. “My boy,” said the sailor, “there’s a way to do everything. If we had a car or a boat it would be too easy.” “We have the river,” suggested Herbert. “Exactly,” said Pencroff. “The river shall be our road and our carrier, too. Timber-floats were not invented for nothing.” “But our carrier is going in the wrong direction,” said Herbert, “since the tide is coming up from the sea.” “We have only to wait for the turn of tide,” answered the sailor. “Let us get our float ready.” They walked towards the river, each carrying a heavy load of wood tied up in fagots. On the bank, too, lay quantities of dead boughs, among grass which the foot of man had probably never pressed before. Pencroff began to get ready his float.