Adrian didn’t see that there was much better than starvation before them, even if they did reach shore, but he kept his fear to himself. Besides, it was not probable that they had been saved from the flood to perish in the forest. They would better look at the bright side of the situation, if they hoped to find such. “I can jump them.” “So can I.” “Don’t let go that pole. I mean to keep that as long as I live--’less you want it yourself. If you do--” “No, Pierre. It belongs to you, and doubly now. Which should go first--you or I?” “Draw lots. If that one falls in, the other must fish him out. Only we won’t try it on this side, by the pool.” They carefully surveyed the crossing, almost as dangerous an affair as shooting the rapids had been. Yet, as Pierre had said, they “had to.” Adrian picked a bit of floating weed that had swept within his reach and broke it into unequal portions. The shortest bit fell to him, and with as cheerful a “Here goes!” as he could muster he sprang for the next stone. He made it more easily than he had hoped, and saw that his best chance lay in looking straight ahead to the next landing point--and the next--never down at the swirling river. “Landed. Come!” Pierre was heavier but more practiced than his mate, and in a few seconds the two stood together on the shore, regarding the ruins of their boat and thinking of what they would not have for supper. All at once Pierre’s eye brightened. “Say! there’s been a camp here. Not so long ago, either. See that barrel in the brush? There’s an old birch shed yonder. Hurrah!” They did not linger, though Adrian kept hoping that something from their lost outfit might be tossed outward toward them, even as Pierre had been; but nothing came in sight, and he reached the dilapidated shed only a few feet behind the other. “There’s a bed left still, but not such a soft one. And there’s pork in that barrel. Wonder the hedgehogs haven’t found it.” But as Pierre thrust his nose into the depths of the cask he understood the reason of its safety. “Whew! even a porkypine wouldn’t touch that. Never mind. Reckon our boots’ll need greasing after that ducking, or mine will, and it’ll answer. Anything under the shed?” “Don’t see anything. Wait. Yes, I do. A canvas bag hung up high. Must have been forgotten when the campers left, for they took everything else. Clean sweep. Hurrah! it’s beans!” “Good! Beans are good fodder for hungry cattle.” “How can you eat such hard things? Should think they’d been resurrected from the pyramids.” “Well, I don’t know ‘pyramids,’ but I do know beans, and how to cook them. Fall to. Let’s get a fire. I’m near froze.” “Fire? Can you make one?” “I can try and--I’ve got to. When needs must, you know.” Adrian hastily collected some dry twigs and decaying chips and heaped them in the sunniest place, but for this was promptly reprimanded by the shivering Pierre.