An American Robinson Crusoe | Page 6

from the
forest, no field could be seen. Nothing but trees and bush, sand and
rock.
"I am then upon an island alone, without food, without shelter, without
weapons! What will become of me?" he cried. "I am a prisoner. The
island is my prison, the waves are the guards which will not allow me
to get away. Will no ship ever come to set me free?"
He stretched his gaze out to the sea till his eyes ached, but he saw no
ship.
Robinson came down and seated himself on a stone and considered
what he should do. It was not yet noon, yet he feared greatly the next
night. "I must find me a better bed," was his first clear thought.
[Illustration]

IX
ROBINSON'S SHELTER

Robinson saw at a little distance what seemed to be a cleft or an
opening in a huge rock. "If I could only get inside and find room to stay
over night. The rock would protect me from rain, from the wind and
wild animals better than a tree."
He long sought in vain for a place wide enough to allow him to get into
the opening in the rock. He was about to give up, when he seized hold
of a branch of a thorn tree growing on the side of the rock. He looked
closer and saw that it grew out of the cleft in the rock. He saw, too, that
at this point the opening was wider and that he had only to remove the
tree in order to get in. "The hole shall be my dwelling," he said. "I must
get the thorn tree out so that I can have room."
That was easily said. He had neither axe nor saw, nor knife nor spade.
How could he do it? He had nothing but his hands. He tried to pull it
out by the roots, but in vain. He wasn't strong enough.
"I must dig it out," said Robinson.
He scratched with his nails, but the earth was too hard. What should he
do? He sought a stick with a fork in it and dug in the earth, but it was
slow work. Then he found a clamshell. He did better with it, but it was
hard work, and Robinson was not used to hard work. The sweat ran
down his face and he had often to stop and rest in the shade. The sun
burned so hot and the rock so reflected the heat that he was all but
overcome. But he worked on. When evening came, he would sleep in
the tree and next morning he would go at it again. On the third day the
roots were all laid bare.
But the roots were fast in the clefts of the rock and he could not loosen
it, try ever so hard. What would he not have given for an axe, or at least
a knife. And yet he had never thought of their value when at home. He
attempted to cut one root through with his clam-shell, but the shell
crumbled and would not cut the hard wood.
He stood for a long time thinking, not knowing what next to do. He
made up his mind that he must have something harder than the shell to
cut with. Then he tried a stone with a sharp edge, but soon found he

needed another one, however. He found one. Then he set the sharp one
on the wood and struck it with the heavy one. In this way he slowly cut
the roots in two.
On the fifth day there was yet left one big root, bigger than any of the
others. Robinson got up early in the morning. He worked the whole day.
Finally it gave a crack and it, too, was broken.
Robinson had only now to remove the loose earth inside the cleft. He
found the opening could be made large and roomy. It was choked up
with dirt. He dug out enough to allow him room enough to make a
place to lie down. "In the future," he thought, "I will take out all the dirt
and then I shall be comfortable."
It was then dark and the moon shone bright in the heavens. Robinson
gathered a heap of dry grass and made himself a safe bed. But as he lay
there he saw the moonbeams shining into his cave. He sprang up. "How
easy," he thought, "for wild animals to creep in here upon me."
He crawled out and looked around. Not far from the cave he saw a
large flat stone. With great trouble he rolled it to the opening of his
cave, but before this the morning began to dawn. He went inside the
shelter, seized the stone with both hands