Not so very many years ago I remember visiting, in company with my cousin Tom, a small lake at the headwaters of the Miami. High and precipitous cliffs surround the little body of water. So steep were the great weather-beaten rocks that it was only where the stream came tumbling down past an old mill that an accessible path then existed. Down that path Tom and I scrambled, for we knew that large bass lurked in the deep, black holes among the rocks.

We had no jointed split-bamboo rods nor fancy tackle, but the fish there in those days were not particular and seldom hesitated to bite at an angle-worm or grasshopper though the hook upon which the bait squirmed was suspended by a coarse line from a freshly cut hickory sapling.

Even now I feel the thrill of excitement and expectancy as, in imagination, my pole is bent nearly double by the frantic struggles of those "gamy" black bass. After spending the morning fishing we built a fire upon a short stretch of sandy beach, and cleaning our fish and washing them in the spring close at hand, we put them among the embers to cook.

While the fire was getting our dinner ready for us we threw off our clothes and plunged into the cool waters of the lake. Inexpert swimmers as we were at that time, the opposite shore, though apparently only a stone's throw distant, was too far off for us to reach by swimming. Many a longing and curious glance we cast toward it, however, and strong was the temptation that beset us to try the unknown depths intervening. A pair of brown ears appeared above the ferns near the water's edge, and a fox peeped at us; squirrels ran about the fallen trunks of trees or scampered up the rocks as saucily as though they understood that we could not swim well enough to reach their side of the lake; and high up the face of the cliff was a dark spot which we almost knew to be the entrance to some mysterious cavern.

How we longed for a boat! But not even a raft nor a dugout could be seen anywhere upon the glassy surface of the water or along its rocky border. We nevertheless determined to explore the lake next day, even if we should have to paddle astride of a log.

The first rays of the morning sun had not reached the dark waters before my companion and I were hard at work, with axe and hatchet, chopping in twain a long log we had discovered near the mill. We had at first intended to build a raft; but gradually we evolved a sort of catamaran. The two pieces of log we sharpened at the ends for the bow; then we rolled the logs down upon the beach, and while I went into the thicket to chop down some saplings my companion borrowed an auger from the miller. We next placed the logs about three feet apart, and marking the points where we intended to put the cross-pieces, we cut notches there; then we placed the saplings across, fitting them into these notches. To hold them securely we bored holes down through the sapling cross-pieces into the logs; with the hatchet we hammered wooden pegs into these holes. For the seat we used the half of a section of log, the flat side fitting into places cut for that purpose. All that remained to be done now was to make a seat in the stern and a pair of rowlocks. At a proper distance from the oarsman's seat we bored two holes for a couple of forked sticks, which answered admirably for rowlocks; across the stern we fastened another piece of log similar to that used for the oarsman's seat (Fig. 8½). With the help of a man from the mill our craft was launched; and with a pair of oars made of old pine boards we rowed off, leaving the miller waving his hat.

Our catamaran was not so light as a row-boat, but it floated, and we could propel it with the oars, and, best of all, it was our own invention and made with our own hands. We called it a "Man-Friday," and by its means we explored every nook in the length and breadth of the lake; and ever afterward when we wanted a boat we knew a simple and inexpensive way to make one—and a safe one, too.

The Crusoe Raft

All the tools that are necessary for the construction of a good stout raft are an axe, an auger, and a hatchet, with some strong arms to wield them.

The building material can be gathered from any driftwood heap on lake or stream.

For a moderate-sized raft collect six or seven logs, the longest not being over sixteen feet in length nor more than a foot in diameter; the logs must be tolerably straight. Pick out the longest and biggest for the centre, sharpen one end, roll the log into the water, and there secure it.

Select two logs as nearly alike as possible, to lie one at each side of the centre log. Measure the centre log, and make the point of each side log, not at its own centre, but at that side of it which will lie against the middle log, so that this side point shall terminate where the pointing of the middle log begins (see Fig. 9).

After all the logs needed have been trimmed and sharpened in the manner just described, roll them into the water and arrange them in order (Fig. 9). Fasten them together with "cross-strips," boring holes through the strips to correspond with holes bored into the logs lying beneath, and through these holes drive wooden pegs. The pegs should be a trifle larger than the holes; the water will cause the pegs to swell, and they will hold much more firmly than iron nails.

The skeleton of the cabin can be made of saplings; such as are used for hoop-poles are the best.

These are each bent into an arch, and the ends are thrust into holes bored for that purpose. Over this hooping a piece of canvas is stretched, after the manner of old-fashioned country wagons (Figs. 10 and 11).

Erect a "jack-staff," to be used as a flag-pole or a mast to rig a square sail on.

A stout stick should be erected at the stern, and a similar one upon each side of the raft near the bow; these sticks, when their ends are made smaller, as shown in the illustration (Fig. 10), serve as rowlocks.

For oars use "sweeps"—long poles, each with a piece of board for a blade fastened at one end (Fig. 12).

Holes must be bored through the poles of the sweeps about three feet from the handle, to slip over the pegs used as rowlocks, as described above. These pegs should be high enough to allow the oarsman to stand while using the sweeps.

A flat stone or earth box placed at the bow will serve as a fireplace.

If the cracks between the logs under the cabin are filled up to prevent the water splashing through, and the cabin is floored with cross-sticks, a most comfortable bed at night can be made of hay, by heaping it under the canvas cover in sufficient quantities.

The Crusoe raft has this great advantage over all boats: you may take a long trip down the river, allowing the current to bear you along, using the sweeps only to assist the man at the helm (rear sweep); then, after your excursion is finished you may abandon your raft and return by steam-boat or train. A very useful thing to the swimmers, when they are skylarking in the water, is

The Chump's Raft

Its construction is simple. Four boards, each about six feet long, are nailed together in the form of a square, with the ends of the boards protruding, like the figure drawn upon a school-boy's slate for the game of "Tit, tat, toe" (Fig. 13).

All nail-points must be knocked off and the heads hammered home, to prevent serious scratches and wounds on the bather's body when he clambers over the raft or slips off in an attempt to do so (Fig. 14).

Beginners get in the middle hole, and there, with a support within reach all around them, they can venture with comparative safety in deep water.

The raft, which I built as a model fifteen years ago, is still in use at my summer camp, where scores of young people have used it with a success proved by their present skill as swimmers. But many camps are located in a section of the country where boards are as scarce as boarding-houses, but where timber, in its rough state, exists in abundance. The campers in such locations can make

A Chump's Raft of Logs

Such a float consists of two dried logs fastened together at each end by cross-slabs, so as to form a rude catamaran. These rafts can be towed through deep water by a canoe or row-boat, with the tenderfoot securely swung in a sling between the logs, where he may practice the hand-and-foot movement with a sense of security which only the certainty that he is surrounded by a wooden life-preserver will give him. Fig. 15 shows a top view of the new chump's raft. In Fig. 16 the two logs are connected fore and aft by cross-slabs; two more upright slabs are nailed securely to the side of the logs; notches having been cut in the top ends of these slabs, a stout cross-piece is securely nailed to them and the towel or rope sling suspended from the middle of the cross-piece. In regard to the dimensions of the raft it is only necessary to say that it should be wide and long enough to allow free movement of the arms and legs of the pupil who is suspended between the logs. In almost every wilderness stream there can be found piles of driftwood on the shore where one may select good, dried, well-seasoned pine or spruce logs from which to make rafts. If such heaps of driftwood are not within reach, look for some standing dead timber and select that which is of sufficient dimensions to support a swimmer, and be careful that it is not hollow or rotten in the core. Rotten wood will soon become water-logged and heavy. Fig. 17 shows the position of the swimmer supported by the chump's sling. If your raft has a tendency to work so that one log pulls ahead of the other, it may be braced by cross-pieces, such as are shown at J and K in Fig. 18. This figure also shows supports for a suspension pole made by nailing two sticks to each side and allowing the ends to cross so as to form a crotch in which the supporting rod rests and to which it is securely fastened by nails, or by being bound there by a piece of rope, as in A, Fig. 19. B, Fig. 19, shows the crotch made by resting L in a fork on the M stick and then nailing or binding it in place. C, Fig. 19, shows the two sticks, L and M, joined by notches cut log-cabin fashion before they are nailed in place.

Although many summers have rolled around since the author first made his advent on this beautiful earth, he still feels the call of the bathing pool, the charm of the spring-board, almost as keenly as he did when he was wont to swim in Blue Hole at Yellow Springs, Ohio, or dive from the log rafts into the Ohio River, or slide down the "slippery" made in the steep muddy banks of the Licking River, Kentucky.