Billoo swallowed some hasty thought or other, and began to look across at the mainland. My father owns all the land opposite the island, even the pier and the short road to the village of Stepping-Stone; and although there were several boats at the pier, there were no people, and the rest of the shore is nothing but thick woods. "We must telephone somewhere," said Billoo. "You can't," I said. "You know you tried to telephone all yesterday and couldn't, and the butler told me this morning that he had tried to put in a call and got no answer." "What does it matter?" said Sally. "You've all got to stay now. I think that's splendid." "Mrs. Sam," said Tombs hollowly, "do you realize that this accident may mean _ruin_ for some of us?" "Oh, dear!" said Sally "how dreadful!" "Somehow of other," said Billoo, "_I'm_ going to get across." And the others said that somehow or other _they_ were going to get across, too. "I've _got_ to!" said Billoo, and he looked about in a fat, challenging way as if daring any one to say that he had not got to. "You poor things," said Sally, "I hope to Heaven you can; but how?" "Where there's a will, Mrs. Sam--" Billoo said. And he began to think hard. All of a sudden his face brightened. "It's too easy," he said. "The wind's right; four or five of us have umbrellas--Sam, you'll have to lend us this float. We've only to cut it from its moorings, and sail it across--May we have it?" "Yes," I said, "but you're crazy to try it." "It's a case of sink or swim," said he. "Who's coming?" Without exception the men agreed to sail with him on the float. It was a fine, big platform, floated on sheet-iron air-tanks, and moored at the four corners by heavy ropes. Sally and I withdrew to the pier and watched Billoo and the others cut slowly through the ropes with their pocket-knives. Presently the float began to move, and a second or two later the float end of the gang-plank slipped into the water with a heavy splash. Those who had umbrellas opened them to catch the breeze, and the others lit cigars, and stood about in graceful attitudes. Sally and I cheered as loud as we could. "I'll send you a tug or something," Billoo called back to us, "and try to find out what's happened to the _Hobo_." "Thank _you_!" I called back. "Sam," said Sally, "I don't know what you think, but I call it good sand." "So do I," said I, "but foolish." "Why foolish?" said Sally. "They're really going quite fast, and they'll be across in no time, and they'll get the next train and everything." "They will not," I said. "Why?" said Sally. "Because," said I, "they will run on to the middle ground, and stay there." "Not at high tide!" exclaimed Sally. "At high tide," said I. "That float draws a good two feet, and it's so heavy that once it runs on the mud it will stay on the mud--" And then I shouted to Billoo: "Look out for the middle ground!" "What?" he answered. "Why do you warn him?" said Sally. "Because it won't help him," said I.