Bob thought he might at least be thankful that his life was spared and that he was not where he would starve, but the lad concluded it would be wise to say nothing.

“If you like we’ll take a walk around the island, see how large it is and if there’s a place where we can make a sort of shelter,” proposed Bob.

“I guess that will be the best thing to do.  I leave it all to you.  My nerves are in such shape that I can do nothing.”

Bob felt not a little proud of the responsibility thus thrust upon him.  He resolved to act wisely and cautiously, for there was no telling how long they would have to live on the island.

With the boy in the lead the two started off.  The sun was now hot and strong, and they found it advisable to keep in the shade of the woods as much as possible.

Bob saw a big turtle crawling down the beach toward the water, and, knowing the flesh was good for food, he ran forward to catch it.  He was too late, however, and when he turned, with a feeling of disappointment, to catch up with Mr. Tarbill, who had continued on, Bob was surprised to hear the man utter an exclamation.  He had come to a halt near a pile of rocks and was looking over the tops.

“What’s the matter?” asked the boy.

“There are two men down there on the beach!  Perhaps they are cannibals!  We had better go back!”

“Let me take a look,” proposed Bob.

Cautiously he went forward, gave one glance at the figures to which Mr. Tarbill pointed, and then he uttered a cry.

“Hurrah!” he shouted.  “They are Captain Spark and Tim Flynn, one of the sailors!  They’ve managed to get to shore!  Ahoy, captain!  Ahoy!  Here we are!” and he ran down the beach toward them.

CHAPTER XX

MAKING THE BEST OF IT

Captain Spark and the sailor turned at the sound of Bob’s voice.  The captain gave a joyful cry and started forward.  But Tim Flynn, the sailor, with a yell of fear, ran off down the beach in a different direction.

“Here!  Come back!” cried the captain, pausing.  “What’s the matter with you, Tim?”

“Sure I don’t want to meet no ghost!” exclaimed the man.

“Ghost?  What do you mean?”

“Him,” replied Tim, pointing a shaking finger at Bob.  “Didn’t we see him drown, an’ now ain’t he here ahead of us to haunt us?  Let me go, cap’n.”

He was about to run off again, but Bob, who began to understand the superstitious rears of the man, called out: 

“It’s me, Tim!  I’m alive, all right!”

The sailor paused, turned, and, after a long and rather doubting look at the boy, came slowly bade.

“Well, maybe it’s all right,” he said, “but it’s mighty queer.  How’d ye git here?”

“Swam until I struck land.  But how did you get here, captain?” and Bob clasped his relative warmly by the hand.