I tried to remember what Uncle Burt'd do if he was caught like this,
and little like me. I thought maybe he'd take off his shirt and wave it,
but then I remembered it'd be too dark to see. But anyway I guessed I'd
better do something, so I took off my blouse, and put my sweater on, and
tied my blouse to a tree, and it waved, quite fine, for there was a
little breeze coming up. I tried rubbing sticks together for a light,
but whoever made up that plan must have had stronger arms and hands than
I had, for I rubbed till my arms ached so that I cried some, but I
didn't get a single spark of light.

By this time it was very dark, and I was so hoarse with hollering, and
so aching in my arms with rubbing sticks, and my legs hurt so with
running up and down trying to see a boat or something, that I just
dumped myself down on the grass and cried--and--I guess I--fell asleep.
For the next thing I knew I heard some one calling my name, kind of
loud, and kind of scared, "Billy, Billy, darling, are you there?" It was
Aunty May in a canoe. I tried to call to her, but I was so hoarse and
tired, I just made a kind of noise in my throat.

[Illustration: Hey, Robinson Crusoe, here's your Man Friday]

Then I was so afraid she'd paddle away that I let out the finest yell
you ever heard, and Aunty May called out, "Hey, Robinson Crusoe. Here's
your Man Friday"; and she slid the canoe up to the bank, and I fell in
so stiff, and she hugged me so hard, that it's a wonder we didn't upset.

[Illustration]

Usually I don't like hugging, but this time it was all right.