Moncrief minor and Plunger, having decided that they would improve upon Defoe's famous story and introduce two Crusoes into their forthcoming adventures instead of one, and having further decided that Hibbert should be Man Friday, it only remained to put their project into execution as soon as possible.

A little way down the river, on the opposite side to that on which the raft was usually moored, was a plantation. It had a thick growth of furze and bushes, and save for the rabbits and squirrels, was quite desolate during the winter. What better place could be selected for the desert island?

"Just the ticket," said Plunger, rubbing his hands, after he and Harry had explored the plantation with a view to their forthcoming enterprise. "Couldn't have been better if it had been built for us. We must be careful, though, and not let old Baldhead and the others know anything about it. They'll all want to cut in—Sedgefield, Bember, and the rest. I know them. Two Crusoes are quite enough at one time, don't you think?"

Harry quite agreed with Plunger. In fact, he was rather doubtful whether two weren't too many—too many by one. But he didn't hint it to Plunger, for fear of bringing up the old dispute.

"Have you sounded the Camel?" Plunger asked presently.

"Not yet; but I don't think he'll mind, except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"Having his face blacked. He's sure to object to that."

"But he needn't know anything about it till we get him over in the plantation; then he can kick and squeal as much as he likes. It won't matter. Let's hunt him up now."

The two thereupon went in search of Hibbert. When they found him, Harry informed him in glowing language of their project for the coming Saturday.

"And just by way of a little treat we thought we'd take you with us," said Plunger, as Harry concluded his explanation. "It'll be fine fun. When we get on the desert island we can have splendid adventures!"

"Yes, yes; it'll be fine fun, as you say; but I'd rather not," answered Hibbert, for whom the river had little attraction. He somehow feared it. "I'll give way to some of the others."

"But you're not going to give way. You're too fond of taking a back seat. You never have any fun; the other fellows have plenty. It's a jolly shame!" exclaimed Plunger, waxing indignant. "It isn't right, is it, Harry?"

"No, it isn't," Harry promptly assented. "I don't see why the Camel shouldn't have as much fun as the rest of us."

"But—but I don't want it. I'm quite content."

"Ah, that's it. You're too content; but we're not. We mean making things better for you. It's nearly time some alteration was made. Baldry, Sedgefield, and the others would never think of giving you a bit of pleasure. They're too selfish—aren't they, Harry?"

"Awfully!"

"So we're leaving them out of it, and you're coming with us instead, Hibbert. We'll have a good time, I can tell you."

Plunger spoke with so much earnestness, and was backed up by Harry with no less earnestness, that Hibbert really thought that their sole object in taking him with them on the raft was to give him "a bit of pleasure." It was perfectly clear also that they would take no denial; so Hibbert, making a virtue of necessity, reluctantly consented.

"Whatever you do don't let out what we're going to do to the other fellows," was Plunger's parting injunction, "or they'll be eating their heads off with envy."

Nevertheless, in spite of Plunger's injunction, the secret leaked out. Indeed, it would have been an astonishing thing if it hadn't, for the proposed adventure on the raft had taken such complete possession of the mind of Plunger, that he could think of little else. He dreamt about it, and talked it over with Harry at every opportunity. In addition to this, they had been seen carrying parcels in the direction of the plantation.

The long-looked-for Saturday at length came. It had been agreed between the two confederates that, so as to avoid suspicion, Plunger should stroll up to the bridge just before the hour the men left off work, and that Harry should arrive on the scene a few minutes later with Hibbert, from another direction.

"If anybody's about they won't suspect anything," said Plunger. "We shall meet as if by accident, and keep out of the way till the road's clear."

Precisely as arranged, Plunger strolled up to the old bridge, which by this time was almost demolished. The workmen had made fast the raft to a stake at the side of the river, and, having received their wages, hastened off at the stroke of twelve. No one heeded Plunger. A few minutes later, Harry came up with Hibbert, who was trying to look as happy as possible under the circumstances, but was nevertheless far from comfortable. The river always seemed so cruel to him—so treacherous. And somehow it had seemed more cruel, more treacherous, since Paul had told him the story of his father's death.

"All serene, Harry," cried Plunger. "The road's clear. We've got it all to ourselves."

"That's good," said Harry. "We're in luck's way. Let's make hay while the sun shines. Wait for us on the towing-path, Hibbert. We'll soon be alongside."

Leaving Hibbert on the towing-path, the two boys got on the raft, and proceeded to untie it from the stake to which it was attached. This did not take them long, and, having secured a punting-pole, they soon brought the raft to where Hibbert was awaiting them.

"I'd—I'd rather not go," said the boy hesitating.

"Don't talk rubbish. Get on. You don't mean to say you funk it?"

To tell the truth, Hibbert did "funk it," though there seemed so little to fear; but he was, as we know, a nervous, timid boy. None the less, he always tried to disguise his feelings even to himself.

"Funk—not a bit; but—but I'm never much help, and—and I thought I might be in the way. It's a jolly raft, isn't he!" he said, as he stepped on.

"Jolly."

Plunger pushed off and they went slowly down the river in the direction of the plantation.

"It's smooth enough here, but what must it be like on the sea, eh?" asked Plunger, after an interval of silence.

"Without any food or water and no sign of a sail."

"Yes, famishing with hunger and casting lots which shall die," added Plunger cheerfully, glaring at Hibbert, as though he contemplated him for a victim. Hibbert, pale before, turned to an ashen hue. "Why, what's the matter, Camel? Don't you feel well? Seasick?"

"I—I'm all right. Is—isn't it jolly?" answered Hibbert, with a feeble attempt at a smile.

Though Hibbert was far from enjoying himself, in spite of trying to impress upon himself that he was, his companions were in their element. As they floated along the river, they imagined themselves to be adventurers, bent on discovery and deeds of heroism. All the same Harry began to feel that Plunger, as usual, was trying to take up the position of command, and make him play second fiddle.

"I say, Freddy," he presently burst out, "isn't it time that I did a bit of punting?"

"I'd like you to have a try, I really would; but it's not so easy as it looks. You've never done any punting, and you don't know how hard it is."

"And what do you know about it? You've never done any of it till now. You're not going to gammon me, Freddy; so hand over the pole."

As Plunger did not seem inclined to give up the pole, Harry caught hold of it, with the intention of enforcing his demands. As he did so, the raft swayed, and Hibbert, crying out in alarm, clutched Harry in turn to steady himself.

"Don't be an ass, Harry," exclaimed Plunger hotly. "You'll have us over in a minute. We're not on dry land. We're not out for a picnic."

"Give up the pole, then. We were to go halves—share and share alike. I know as much about punting as you do; so let me have a turn."

"Put me on land," said Hibbert appealingly, fearing that a struggle would take place between the two boys.

"Don't be such an awful funk, Camel," exclaimed Plunger roughly. "Let go, Harry. Don't play about on this bit of wood or over we go. I'm not insured, if you are. I said we'd go halves, and so we will. Let me finish punting to the plantation and you shall do the punting back."

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do."

Satisfied with this promise, Harry let go the pole, much to the relief of Hibbert. The rest of the voyage was passed without further dispute, and in a little while they reached the plantation in safety. Having secured the raft, they made their way into the thicket. Hibbert timorously inquired where they were going.

"We told you we were out for adventures," explained Plunger. "Harry and me are Crusoes—twins, you see."

Hibbert nodded assent, but he could not help thinking that he had never seen twins who were so utterly unlike each other as the two before him.

"You're to be Friday, Camel."

"Friday—yes," Hibbert feebly assented. "Wha—what's he to do?"

"He's got to discover us—the twin Crusoes."

Hibbert thought that to balance things there ought to be a twin Friday, but he only repeated, "Twin Crusoes—yes." As he did so, he thought he heard a rustling among the bushes, as though some wild beast were crawling amongst them. He looked round with a shiver, but saw nothing. Plunger and Harry, too intent on their enterprise to hear anything, had been groping about in the thicket for something they had hidden there. Presently Plunger cried, "Got it!"

He drew out a brown-paper parcel from its hiding-place as he spoke, while Harry explained as he did so:

"This is to be a sort of dress rehearsal, you see. The next time we come we shall be able to do the thing properly."

"Yes, we've only got the hats and Friday's wig, and the stuff for his face," went on Plunger, as he pitched a brimless felt hat to Harry and clapped one of similar design on his own head. "We mean having the skin coats next time. Here's your wig, Camel—Friday, I mean. Let's see how it fits."

He took from the parcel a wig, which had been skilfully designed from a couple of fluffy woollen table mats, once the property of Mrs. Trounce. Pulling off Hibbert's cap, Plunger fixed this curiously fashioned wig on the boy's head.

"Fits to a T. Doesn't it, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Wish we only had a looking-glass here so that you could see yourself in it, Camel," went on Plunger. "You only want painting up a bit, and there you are. Hold your face down while Moncrief puts on the artistic touches."

Hibbert feebly protested. He didn't want his face painted.

"Now, look here, Camel," said Plunger, giving his arm a twist which made him wince, "we're not going to hurt you; so don't be silly. Friday was a savage, you know, and savages don't go about with white faces, and yours is awfully white. Don't be silly, I say."

Hibbert wriggled for a moment, but seeing that it was useless for him to struggle further, gave in with as good grace as possible. Harry at once went to work on his face. First of all greasing it, he next smeared it with burnt cork, until Hibbert was as black as a nigger. Thus blackened, and with the rudely fashioned wig as crown, Hibbert presented a curious appearance indeed. The two burst into laughter when they had finished. Their laughter seemed to echo through the plantation. Suddenly their laughter was checked.

"Did you hear it? Strange, wasn't it?" said Plunger.

Hibbert looked tremblingly round. Of a sudden an unearthly yell rent the air, and half a dozen dusky figures leapt from the bushes in the distance. Flourishing curiously-shaped weapons, very like tomahawks, they rushed, yelling and screaming, towards the bewildered boys.