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´╗┐Title: An American Robinson Crusoe - for American Boys and Girls
Author: Allison, Samuel. B.
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "An American Robinson Crusoe - for American Boys and Girls" ***











I Robinson with His Parents                                        7

II Robinson as an Apprentice                                      10

III Robinson's Departure                                          13

IV Robinson Far from Home                                         17

V The Shipwreck                                                   19

VI Robinson Saved                                                 21

VII The First Night on Land                                       23

VIII Robinson on an Island                                        28

IX Robinson's Shelter                                             30

X Robinson Makes a Hat                                            34

XI Robinson's Calendar                                            38

XII Robinson Makes a Hunting Bag                                  41

XIII Robinson Explores the Island                                 44

XIV Robinson as a Hunter                                          48

XV Robinson's Shoes and Parasol                                   51

XVI Getting Fire                                                  53

XVII Robinson Makes Some Furniture                                55

XVIII Robinson Becomes a Shepherd                                 57

XIX Robinson Builds a Home for His Goats                          60

XX Robinson Gets Ready for Winter                                 64

XXI How Robinson Lays up a Store of Food                          67

XXII Robinson's Diary                                             70

XXIII Robinson is Sick                                            74

XXIV Robinson's Bower                                             77

XXV Robinson Again Explores His Island                            81

XXVI Robinson and His Birds                                       84

XXVII Robinson Gets Fire                                          89

XXVIII Robinson Makes Baskets                                     93

XXIX Robinson Becomes a Farmer                                    98

XXX Robinson as Potter                                           104

XXXI Robinson as Baker                                           108

XXXII Robinson as Fisherman                                      112

XXXIII Robinson Builds a Boat                                    116

XXXIV Robinson as a Sailor                                       120

XXXV A Discovery                                                 127

XXXVI The Landing of the Savages                                 133

XXXVII Robinson as Teacher                                       139

XXXVIII Another Shipwreck                                        144

XXXIX Saving Things from the Ship                                149

XL The Return of the Savages                                     155

XLI Deliverance at Last                                          162

XLII Robinson at Home                                            167


"An American Robinson Crusoe" is the outcome of many years of experience
with the story in the early grades of elementary schools. It was written
to be used as a content in giving a knowledge of the beginning and
development of human progress. The aim is not just to furnish an
interesting narrative, but one that is true to the course of human
development and the scientific and geographical facts of the island on
which Robinson is supposed to have lived.

The excuse for departing so widely from the original story is to be
found in the use which was desired to be made of it. The story here
presented is simply the free adaptation of the original narrative to the
demand for a specific kind of content in a form which would be
interesting to the children.

The teacher is and should be justified in using with entire freedom any
material accessible for the ends of instruction.

The text as here given has been published with an introduction and
suggestive treatments as a Teacher's Manual for Primary Grades--"The
Teacher's Robinson Crusoe." Explicit directions and ample suggestions
are made for the use of the story as material for instruction in all the
language arts, drawing, social history, and the manual arts.

Published by the Educational Publishing Company.




There once lived in the city of New York, a boy by the name of Robinson
Crusoe. He had a pleasant home. His father and mother were kind to him
and sent him to school. They hoped that he would study hard and grow up
to be a wise and useful man, but he loved rather to run idle about the
street than to go to school. He was fond of playing along the River
Hudson, for he there saw the great ships come and go. They were as big
as houses. He watched them load and unload their cargoes and hundreds of
people get off and on. His father had told him that the ships came from
far distant lands, where lived many large animals and black men. His
father told him too, that in these faraway countries the nuts on the
trees grew to be as large as one's head and that the tree were as high
as church steeples.

When Robinson saw the ships put out to sea he would watch them till they
would disappear below the horizon far out in the ocean, and think, "Oh,
if I could only go with them far away to see those strange countries!"
Thus he would linger along the great river and wish he might find an
opportunity of making a voyage. Often it would be dark before he would
get home. When he came into the house his mother would meet him and say
in a gentle voice, "Why, Robinson, how late you are in getting home! You
have been to the river again."


Then Robinson would hang his head and feel deeply ashamed, and when his
father, who was a merchant, came home from the store, his mother would
tell him that Robinson had again been truant.

This would grieve his father deeply and he would go to the boy's bedside
and talk earnestly with him. "Why do you do so?" he would say. "How
often have I told you to go to school every day?" This would for a time
win Robinson back to school, but by the next week it had been forgotten
and he would again be loitering along the river in spite of his father's



In this way one year after another slipped by. Robinson was not more
diligent. He was now almost sixteen years old and had not learned
anything. Then came his birthday. In the afternoon his father called him
into his room. Robinson opened the door softly. There sat his father
with a sad face. He looked up and said, "Well, Robinson, all your
schoolmates have long been busy trying to learn something, so that they
may be able to earn their own living. Paul will be a baker, Robert a
butcher, Martin is learning to be a carpenter, Herman a tailor, Otto a
blacksmith, Fritz is going to high school, because he is going to be a
teacher. Now, you are still doing nothing. This will not do. From this
time on I wish you to think of becoming a merchant. In the morning you
will go with me to the store and begin work. If you are attentive and
skillful, when the time comes you can take up my business and carry it
on. But if you remain careless and continue to idle about, no one will
ever want you and you must starve because you will never be able to earn
a living."

So the next morning Robinson went to the store and began work. He
wrapped up sugar and coffee, he weighed out rice and beans. He sold meal
and salt, and when the dray wagon pulled up at the store, loaded with
new goods, he sprang out quickly and helped to unload it. He carried in
sacks of flour and chests of tea, and rolled in barrels of coffee and
molasses. He also worked some at the desk. He looked into the account
books and saw in neat writing, "Goods received" and "Goods sold." He
noticed how his father wrote letters and reckoned up his accounts. He
even took his pen in hand and put the addresses on the letters and
packages as well as he could.

But soon he was back in his careless habits. He was no longer attentive
to business. He wrapped up salt instead of sugar. He put false weights
on the scales. He gave some too much and others too little. His hands,
only, were in the business, his mind was far away on the ocean with the
ships. When he helped unload the wagons, he would often let the chests
and casks drop, so that they were broken and their contents would run
out on the ground. For he was always thinking, "Where have these casks
come from and how beautiful it must be there!" And many times packages
came back because Robinson had written the name of the place or the
country wrong. For when he was writing the address, he was always
thinking, "You will be laid upon a wagon and will then go into the
ship." One day he had to write a letter to a man far over the sea. He
could stand it no longer. His father had gone out. He threw down the
pen, picked up his hat and ran out to the Hudson to see the ships, and
from that time on he spent more time loitering along the river than he
did in the store.



Robinson's father soon noticed that his son was no longer attending to
his work, and one morning sent for him to come to his office. When
Robinson came in his father arose from his chair and looked him long and
earnestly in the face. Then he said, "I am very sorry, Robinson, that
you seem determined to continue your evil ways. If you do not do better
you will grow up to be a beggar or worse." Robinson cast his eyes down
and said, "I do not want to be a merchant, I would rather sail in a ship
around the world." His father answered, "If you do not know anything you
cannot be of use on a ship, and no one will want you. In a strange land
you cannot live without working. If you run away from your parents you
will come to be sorry for it." Robinson wept, for he saw that his father
was right, and he promised to obey.

After two or three weeks, Robinson went to his mother and said,
"Mother, won't you go to father and tell him that if he will only let me
take one voyage and it proves to be unpleasant, I will come back to the
store and work hard?" But the mother cried. With tears in her eyes, she
said: "Robinson, your brothers are both dead. You are the only child
left to us and if you go away, we shall be entirely alone. How easy it
would be to be drowned in the sea, or torn to pieces by wild animals
away there in a foreign country. Both your father and myself are getting
along in years and who will take care of us when we are sick? Do not
cause us the grief we must suffer if you go away so far amid so many
dangers. I cannot bear to have you speak of it again."

Robinson did not speak of it again, but he did not forget it. He was
nineteen years old. It was one day in August that Robinson stood at the
wharf looking longingly after the departing ships. As he stood there,
someone touched him on the shoulder. It was a ship captain's son. He
pointed to a long ship and said, "My father sails to-day in that ship
for Africa and takes me with him."

"Oh, if I could only go with you!" cried Robinson.

"Do come along," cried his comrade.

"But I have no money," said Robinson.

"That doesn't make any difference," returned the captain's son. "We will
take you anyway."

Robinson, without thinking for a moment, gave his friend his hand and
promised to go with him.

So without saying "Good-bye" to his parents, Robinson went immediately
on board the ship with his friend. This happened on the 10th of August.





Once on board, Robinson watched the preparations for departure. At
command the sailors clambered up into the rigging and loosened the
sails. Then the captain from his bridge called out, "Hoist the anchor!"
Then the great iron hooks that held the ship fast were lifted up, a
cannon sounded a final farewell. Robinson stood on the deck. He saw the
great city shimmer in the sunshine before him. Very fast now the land
was being left behind. It was not long until all that could be seen of
his native city was the tops of the highest towers. Then all faded from
sight. Behind, in front, right and left, he saw nothing but waters.


He became a little afraid. At noon there arose a strong wind and the
ship rocked to and fro. He became dizzy and had to hold fast to
something. The masts and rigging began to dance. It seemed to him as if
all was turning around. Suddenly he fell full length on the deck and it
was impossible for him to get up. He was seasick. He wailed and cried,
but no one heard him, no one helped him. Then he thought of his home,
his parents whom he had so ungratefully left.

He had been on the water about two weeks when one day as he lay in his
room, Robinson heard people over his head running about and crying, "A
storm is coming!" The ship's sides trembled and creaked. The ship was
tossed like a nutshell. Now it rolled to the right, now to the left. And
Robinson was thrown from one side to the other. Every moment he expected
the ship to sink. He turned pale and trembled with fear. "Ah, if I were
only at home with my parents, safe on the land," he said. "If I ever get
safe out of this, I will go home as quickly as I can and stay with my
dear parents!" The storm raged the whole day and the whole night. But on
the next morning the wind went down and the sea was calm. By evening the
sky was clear and Robinson was again cheerful. He ran about the ship. He
looked at the glittering stars and was contented and happy.



Several weeks went by. Robinson had long ago forgotten his resolutions
to return home. It was very hot. The glowing sun beat down upon the
ship. The wide surface of the sea glistened. No breeze stirred. The
sails hung loose on the top of the mast. But far away on the shore could
be seen a black bank of clouds.

All at once the ship was thrown violently to one side by a fierce gust
of wind. Robinson threw himself on the deck. The sea began to rise and
fall. The waves were as high as mountains. Now the ship was borne aloft
to the skies, and now it would seem that it must be overwhelmed in the
sea. When it sank down between the great waves of water, Robinson
thought it would never again rise. The waves beat violently on the
ship's side. Robinson went down the steps into his little room, but he
came back full of anxiety. He believed every minute he would meet death
in the waves. The night at last came on. The lightning flashed. The
storm howled. The ship trembled. The water roared. So the night wore on.
The storm raged for six days. Then on the seventh day it was somewhat
abated. But the hope was soon dashed. The storm had abated but to get
new strength. Suddenly it bore down with frightful power on the doomed
vessel, struck it, and shot it like an arrow through the water. Then
Robinson felt a fearful crash. The ship groaned as if it would fall into
a thousand pieces. It had struck a rock and there held fast. At the same
moment the sailors raised the cry, "The ship has sprung a leak!" The
water surged into the ship. All called for help. Each one thought only
of himself. There was only one boat. The others had all been torn away.
It was soon let down into the sea. All sprang in. For a moment the
sailors forgot the waves, but all at once a wave, mountains high, struck
the boat and swallowed it up. Robinson shut his eyes. The water roared
in his ears. He sank into the sea.



Robinson was borne down far, far into the ocean. He attempted to work
himself up, so that he could see light and breathe the air. But again
and again the waves carried him down. Finally a wave threw him up and he
saw, for a moment, the light of day and got a breath of air, but the
next instant he was deep under the water. Then another wave bore him on
its crest. He breathed a deep breath and at the same time saw land not
far away. He bent all his strength toward reaching the land. He got
almost to it, when a wave caught him and hurled him on a jutting rock.
With all his strength he seized the rock with both hands and held on.

Presently he worked himself up a little and at last got a foothold. But,
scarcely had he done so, when his strength left him and he fell on the
ground as one dead. But he soon revived. He opened his eyes and looked
around. He saw above him the blue sky, and under him the solid brown
earth, and before him the gray angry sea. He felt to see if he still
breathed. The storm had destroyed the ship. The waves had overwhelmed
the boat. The water wished to draw him into the deep. The rocks seemed
to want to hurl him back, but storm and wave and rock had accomplished
nothing. There was One who was stronger than they.

Then Robinson sank on his knees and folded his hands. Tears came to his
eyes. He breathed hard. At last he said, "Dear Father in Heaven, I live.
Thou hast saved me. I thank Thee."



"Where are my companions?" That was his first thought. He began to call
and halloo: "Where are you? Come here!" But no one answered. Then he
wished to see if anyone lived on the land, and he cried, "Is there no
one here? Hello!" but all remained still.

All at once he drew himself together and shrank back. He heard a bush
rustle and the thought came like a flash, "That is a wild animal that
will pounce upon me and tear my flesh with his teeth and claws. How
shall I save myself? Where shall I fly for safety? Where shall I turn? I
have nothing but my clothes and my life saved from the water. All that I
had the waves have swallowed up."

And then hunger and thirst began to trouble him. He had eaten nothing
the whole day and the salt water had made him sick.

In the meantime the night had come on. Robinson was very tired.
Everything was new and strange. He did not know which way to move. He
was in the greatest terror.

He expected to hear the roar of wild beasts from every secluded spot.
Lions and tigers and dreadful serpents filled his thoughts. He must find
shelter from them. But where should he pass the night? Not a house, a
hut or a cave was to be seen. He stood a long time hesitating and did
not know what to do. Finally he thought, "I will do as the birds do and
get into a tree." He very soon found a tree which had such thick
branches that it would hold him up.

Robinson climbed up into the tree, made himself as comfortable as
possible, said his prayers, and as he was thoroughly exhausted, he soon
fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was high in the sky. At first he
could not remember where he was. Then the truth burst upon him. He tried
to move. He was stiff and sore. His flesh was bruised from being thrown
against the rocks and beaten by the waves.

He was dreadfully thirsty. His mouth and throat were dry and parched
from the salt water. His tongue was thick and swollen. He said, "I must
find some water to drink or I shall die!"

It was hard work to get down from the tree. His limbs and back ached
from sitting in the tree all night. At last he slipped down and fell on
the ground. He clasped his hands in prayer and thanked God for keeping
him through the night.


Then he got up and tried to walk. He was so weak he could not stand.

He threw himself down on the ground and began to sob and cry, "O Lord,
do not let me die! Do not let me die!" As he lay there he heard a queer
sound. He listened. It sounded like water running over rocks. He tried
to get to the place from which the sound came. He tried to walk. When he
fell he crawled on his hands and knees. At last the sound was close by.
He dragged himself up on the rocks. Yes, there was a spring of clear,
cool, sparkling water bubbling up and trickling over the stones.
Robinson was so thirsty he put his face into the water and drank and

Then he sat down, and after a while he drank again and again.

After Robinson had satisfied his thirst and rested awhile, he felt much
better. He said, "I must try to walk and see whether I can find
something to eat." He found many kinds of fruits and berries all around
him, but he was afraid to eat them, as they were strange to him and he
feared they might be poisonous.

As he was walking along, all at once he spied a tall plant in the
distance which had a familiar look. It looked like corn. He said to
himself, "I wonder if it can be corn." At last he came near enough to
recognize it. Yes, it was corn. It did not look exactly like the corn
that he saw at home, but still he knew it would be safe to eat it. He
broke off an ear and eagerly ate the kernels raw. Oh, how good it was!
Robinson could not remember anything that tasted half so good.

He ate as much as he wanted and then filled his pockets with ears of
corn for his supper. Then he went back to the spring to get another




After his hunger and thirst were satisfied, Robinson thought he would
try to find another dwelling place. "My legs are stiff and sore from
sitting so uncomfortably last night, and there is so much danger of
falling," he said. "I will climb yonder hill and look around and see on
which side the houses are. I will find me a stick to help me on my way."

He broke a stick from a dry bush and climbed up the steep sides of the
hill. After a half hour's climb he was on top. What a sight met his
eyes! There were no houses, no huts to be seen, no smoke arose from the
forest, no field could be seen. Nothing but trees and bush, sand and

"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

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.




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 clam-shell. 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 and rolled it into the opening till it
almost closed it. "I have now a closed home. I can again stretch my
legs. Wind and rain cannot get at me, nor wild animals."



Refreshed and with renewed strength, Robinson awoke late the next
morning, but he had a bad headache. The day before the hot tropic sun
had beat down on his bare head, as he worked at his cave. He was so busy
that he forgot to go into the shade from time to time in order to shield
himself from the scorching sunshine. He felt a new need.

"I must make me a hat," said Robinson to himself. "But how?" He had no
straw, no thread and no needle. He looked around for a long time, but
found nothing. The sun mounted even higher in the heavens, and shone
hotter and hotter. He went to seek shelter at last in the deep shade of
a nearby tall plant.

As he stood there he examined the plant more carefully. "Out of these
leaves," he said, "I might make a hat." He climbed up the short stem of
the plant and saw that it had not only leaves as long as himself, but
between the leaves were big bunches of long, thin fruit, as thick as
three fingers and similar in shape to a cucumber.

He plucked the leaves and fruit and was about to eat some of the fruit
when he heard near him a light stir as of some animal. He rolled the
leaves and fruit together and hastened back to the cave.

[Illustration: THE BANANA TREE]

The bananas, for that is what the fruit proved to be, were sweet and
refreshing. After he had eaten enough he set immediately about making
his hat. He broke off a couple of reeds. He bent one into a hoop. But
the hoop would not hold without thread. Sometimes it was too large and
sometimes too small. But it must fit his head. He pulled up grass and
bound its ends together, but the grass stalks were not strong enough. He
hunted until he found a tree whose inner bark was soft and came out in
long fibres. He bound his reed with this. This, too, made the hoop soft
so that it did not hurt his head.

When the hoop was ready and fitted to his head he found the banana
leaves could not be used. Their veins ran straight out from the midrib.
This made them easily torn, and besides, they were too large. They were
not the best shape. He saw that leaves about a foot long with broad and
tapering points would be best. He saw too, that if the leaves had their
veins running parallel with the midrib they would be stronger. He made
search and at length found leaves that seemed made for his purpose. They
were thick and leathery and tapered from base to apex like a triangle.

He now proceeded with his hat-making. He would take a leaf and lay it on
the ground with the base toward him. Then he laid the hoop on the base
of the leaf, wrapped it around the hoop and fastened it with thorns. He
did the same with the other leaves. The thorns were his pins. At last
he pinned the tips of the leaves together at the top and the hat was
ready. It looked just like a big cone, but it kept out the heat of the

Robinson now had corn and bananas and when he was thirsty he drank a
handful of water from the spring. He had been now nine days on the
island. Every day he looked out on the sea until his eyes ached to see
if he might discover a ship.

He could not understand why no ship came his way. "Who knows how long I
must wait here?" said he sorrowfully. Then the thought came to him: "You
will not be able to keep track of the days unless you write it down."



The matter of keeping track of time puzzled Robinson very much. It was
getting more difficult every day to keep it in his memory. He must write
down the days as they slip by, but where and how? He had neither pen,
ink, nor paper. Should he mark every day with a colored stone on the
smooth side of the huge rock wall within whose clefts he had dug out his
cave? But the rain would wash off the record and then he would lose all
his bearings. Then he thought of the beach, but there the wind and waves
would soon also erase it.

He thought a long time. "I must find something," he said to himself on
which to keep a record. "I must also know when Sunday is. I must rest
one day in the week. Yes, I must find something," he said, "on which to
write." And finally he found it. He chose two trees standing near each
other and then sought for a small sharp stone, which he could make
still sharper by striking it on another. When he had got this pen ready
he cut into the bark of one tree:

    _Shipwreck, Sunday, 10th of September, 1875._

He made seven cuts in a row for the seven days in the week. The first
cut was longer than the others. This was to represent the Sunday. At
sundown every day he made a new cut in the bark.

The other tree he called the month tree. On its stem he was to cut a
mark every time his week tree told him a month had passed. But he must
be careful, for the months were not of equal length. But he remembered
that his teacher had once said in school that the months could be
counted on the knuckles and hollows of the hand, in such a way that the
long and short months could be found easily and he could tell in this
way the number of days in each.

Robinson worked at enlarging his shelter a little every day. He was
sorely at loss to find something in which to carry the dirt away from
the entrance, or enough so that it would not choke up the opening. A
large clam shell was all he could think of at present. He would carry
the dirt to the entrance and some distance away, and then throw it.
Fortunately the ground sloped away rapidly, so that he needed a kind of
platform before his door.

He was careful to open the cleft at some distance above the large
opening. For the air was damp and impure in the shelter. But with the
opening made high above, fresh air was constantly passing into, and
impure air out of, his cave. Light, too, was admitted in this way.



Several days passed with Robinson's hat-making and his calendar-making
and his watching the sea. Every day his corn and bananas became more
distasteful to him. And he planned a longer journey about the island to
see if something new to eat could be found.

But he considered that if he went a distance from his cave and found
something it would really be of little use to him. "I could eat my
fill," he said, "but that is all. And by the time I get back to my cave
I will again be hungry. I must find something in which I can gather and
carry food." He found nothing.

"The people in New York," he said, "have baskets, or pockets, or bags
made of coarse cloth. Of them all, I could most easily make the net,
perhaps, of vines. But the little things would fall out of the net. I
will see whether I can make a net of small meshes."

But he soon saw that the vines did not give a smooth surface. He
thought for a long while. In his garden at home his father had sometimes
bound up the young trees with the soft inner bark of others. He wondered
if he could use this. He stripped away the outer bark from the tree,
which before had yielded him a fibre for his hat, and pulled off the
long, smooth pieces of the inner bark. He twisted them together. Then he
thought how he could weave the strands together. He looked at his shirt.
A piece was torn off and unravelled. He could see the threads go up and
down. He saw that some threads go from left to right (woof), others
lengthwise (the warp).

From his study of the woven cloth, Robinson saw he must have a firmer
thread than the strips of bark gave alone. He separated his bark into
long, thin strips. These he twisted into strands of yarn by rolling
between his hands, or on a smooth surface. As he twisted it he wound it
on a stick. It was slow, hard work. Of all his work, the making of yarn
of thread gave him the most trouble. He learned to twist it by knotting
the thread around the spindle or bobbin on which he wound it and
twirling this in the air. He remembered sadly the old spinning wheel he
had seen at his grandmother's house.

His next care was something to hold the threads while he wove them in
and out. He had never seen a loom.

After long study Robinson set two posts in the ground and these he bound
with seventy-two strands horizontally under each other. Then he tied in
the top at the left another thread and wove it in and out through the
seventy-two threads. So he tied seventy-two vertical strands and wove
them in and out. Thus he had a net three times as long as his foot and
as wide as long. He tied the four corners together. He made a woven
handle for it and put it on his shoulder like a sack, saying gleefully,
"This shall be my hunting bag."

[Illustration: ROBINSON'S LOOM]



After Robinson made his hunting bag he was anxious to set off on his
journey of exploring the island. So he arose very early next morning.
"Before it is hot," thought he, "I will be quite a distance on my
journey." He ate a couple of bananas, scooped up a few handfuls of water
from the spring, stuck a few ears of corn in his hunting bag, took his
stick in his hand and went forth. As he left his cave the thought struck
him: "What if I could not find my cave again? How can I manage so that I
can come back to it? I will go away in one direction and return the same
way; but suppose I were to lose the way?"

Then he noticed his shadow pointing like a great finger from the sea
toward the land. He could direct himself by that. He kept his shadow in
front of him. He had noticed, too, that the wind always blew north of
the point where the sun rose. This helped him. But sometimes the wind
died down.

[Illustration: COCOANUT PALM TREE]

He had to climb over many rocks and pierce many thickets. At each step
he saw a rich growth of plants, stems, leaves, flowers, but nothing to
eat, no fruits, or nuts. At length he came to a tree as high as a small
church steeple. Then he thought of what his father had once said about
the trees in strange countries. "Many are as tall as a church steeple
and the nuts are as big as one's head." He looked again. Yes, there
they hung among the leaves, concealed high above in the crown! But so
high, it was well that Robinson had learned to climb while on board the
ship. He quickly laid down his hunting bag and clambered up the smooth
stem of the high tree, a palm. He picked off a nut and threw it down and
then several more, and climbed down again.

But the nuts were very hard. How should he open them? He had brought
along his sharp stone with which he had stripped off the inner bark.
With this he forced off the thick outer shell. But now came the hard nut
within, and how hard it was! Striking it was of no use.

Then he threw a great stone on the nut. The shell was crushed and a
snow-white kernel lay before him. It tasted like almond. With
astonishment Robinson saw in the middle of the nut a large empty space
which must have been filled with fluid as the inside was wet. He wished
that he had the juice to drink, for he was very thirsty. With this in
view, he examined another and riper nut, and the outside came off more
easily. But how could he break it and at the same time save the juice?
He studied the hull of the cocoanut on all sides. At the ends were three
little hollows. He attempted first to bore in with his fingers, but he
could not. "Hold!" he cried. "Maybe I can cut them there with the point
of my stone knife." This was done without trouble and out of the hole
flowed the sweet, white juice.

Robinson put a couple of nuts in his hunting bag, and also the shells
from the broken nuts. "Now," he thought, "I shall no longer have to
drink from my hand." With this thought he went on his way.

As Robinson came to a rock in his path, out jumped what Robinson took to
be a rabbit. He ran after him to catch him, but the rabbit was much the
swifter. So Robinson hastened home, but before he reached it the stars
were shining with their lustrous light. Tired Robinson stretched his
limbs on his bed of grass and leaves and slept soundly.



All the time Robinson was confined to the cave he kept thinking about
the rabbit he had seen and how he might catch one. Finally, he
determined to make a spear. He broke down a thin, young sapling,
stripped off its branches and in one end fastened a sharp stone. He then
went to bed, for he wanted to be up early for his first hunting trip on
the morrow.

With his hunting sack and spear, Robinson began to creep very, very
cautiously through the underbrush. But he did not go far before he saw a
lot of rabbits feeding peacefully on the soft leaves and grass. He drew
back and threw his spear with all his might. But the spear did not reach
the rabbits. It fell far short and the rabbits sprang up and ran quickly
away. He tried it several times with the same result. Then Robinson,
discouraged, turned back home and ate his corn, bananas, and cocoanuts
without meat. In the meantime he found a new kind of food. He
discovered a nest of eggs. How good they tasted to him!

But his longing for meat was still very great. "I will try to make a bow
and arrow," he said. No sooner said than done. He bent a long piece of
tough, young wood and stretched between the ends a cord twisted out of
the fiber taken from the cocoanut shell. He then sought for a piece of
wood for arrows. He split the ends with his flint knife and fastened in
splinters of stone. At the other end he fastened on some feathers found
on the ground. The arrows flew through the air with great swiftness.
"They will go far enough," thought Robinson, "if I could only hit

He practised shooting. He stuck his stone knife in a tree and shot at it
the whole day long. At first he could not hit it at all. The arrows flew
far from the mark. After a while he could hit the tree, but not the
knife. Then as he practised, his arm grew ever surer, until at last he
could hit the knife at almost every attempt. After a few days he again
went rabbit hunting. He thought that the rabbit did not offer a mark so
high as his knife, so he stuck a stone in the ground and practised
shooting at that. He gradually increased the distance until he could hit
the mark at twenty or thirty yards.

The next morning Robinson took his bow and arrows and went out to hunt.
He aimed at a rabbit, shot, and it fell, pierced by the arrow. His very
first shot was successful.

He hastened up and took the dead rabbit on his shoulder, carried it to
his cave and skinned it. Then he cut off a nice, large piece of meat and
was going to roast it, but alas, he had no fire!



The next morning Robinson could not get up. His feet were swollen and
sore in consequence of walking without shoes over thorns and stones. He
must remain the whole day in his cave.

Before him, in the sun, his walking stick stuck in the ground. He
thought how he had been troubled yesterday to find his way and about the
shadow. He had now time to study it. He watched it the whole day
through. In the morning it pointed toward the land. In the evening
toward the sea. This comes from the daily movement of the sun. He
determined to study the matter more carefully.

Robinson got up and with great effort walked to the spring. There he
cooled his burning feet, and gathered some large leaves, which he bound
on them. He decided to remain in his cave a few days, for he had enough
food stored up to last him some length of time. He planned how he might
make himself a pair of shoes. As soon as his feet were well, he sought
out some thick bark and put fastenings of tough, strong fiber on it.
These served very well to protect his feet.

But he must have some further protection from the sun. It beamed so hot
that his hat was not enough. He made a parasol out of leaves like his
hat. He took a straight stick for a handle. He tied some reeds together
and bent them into a hoop. He then fastened the upper end of the stick
in the center of the hoop by means of six reeds which formed the ribs of
the parasol. To keep out the sun he covered this framework with large,
broad leaves. With a cord he tied the stem ends of the leaves to the
stick just above where the reeds were tied.

Spread out, these broad leaves completely covered the ribs. Their tips
reached over the hoop. They were fastened together by means of small,
needle-like fish-bones Robinson had found on the beach.



Now Robinson had heard that savages take two dry pieces of wood and rub
them so long on each other that they at length begin to burn.

He tried it. The sweat ran down his cheeks, but every time the wood was
about to catch fire his strength would give out, and he was obliged to
rest, and when he began again the wood was cold.

"How will it be in winter," he cried, "when it is cold, and I have no
fire?" He must try other ways of preparing meat for his table. He must
think of some other way of getting fire. He remembered that once, when a
boy at home, he had in playing with a stick made it hot by twirling it
on end on a piece of wood. "I will try this," he thought. He searched
for a good hard stick and a piece of wood upon which to turn or twirl it
with his hands. Having found the best materials at hand, he began to
twirl the stick. He made a little hollow in the block of wood in which
to turn his upright stick. There was heat but no fire. He twirled and
twirled, but he could not get the wood hot enough to blaze up or ignite.
He had not skill. Besides his hands were not used to such rough
treatment. Soon they blistered and this method had to be given up.

"I must have fire," he still thought, and recalled the sparks that flew
from the stone pavements of the streets when the iron shoes of the
horses struck them as they slipped and strained at their cruel loads.
Why may I not get fire by striking together two stones? He sought out
two hard stones and with great diligence kept striking them together
until his strength gave out, and he was obliged again to acknowledge

He remembered that sometimes travelers put the meat underneath the
saddle and ride on it until it is soft. He tried it with pounding. He
laid some of the meat on a flat stone and pounded it. It became quite
soft and tasted very well. He then tried hanging it in the sun and
finally wrapped it in leaves and buried it for a few hours in the hot



One thing troubled Robinson very much. He could not sit comfortably
while eating. He had neither chair nor table. He wished to make them,
but that was a big job. He had no saw, no hammer, no auger and no nails.
Robinson could not, therefore, make a table of wood.

Not far from his cave he had seen a smooth, flat stone. "Ay," thought
he, "perhaps I can make me a table out of stone." He picked out the best
stone and built up four columns as high as a table and on these he laid
his large, flat stone. It looked like a table, sure enough, but there
were rough places and hollows in it. He wanted it smooth. He took clay
and filled up the holes and smoothed it off. When the clay dried, the
surface was smooth and hard. Robinson covered it with leaves and decked
it with flowers till it was quite beautiful.

When the table was done, Robinson began on a chair. He made it also of
stone. It had no back. It looked like a bench. It was uncomfortable to
sit on. Robinson covered it with moss. Then it was an easy seat.

Table and chair were now ready. Robinson could not move them from one
corner to another, nor when he sat on the chair could he put his feet
under the table, and yet he thought them excellent pieces of furniture.

Every day Robinson went hunting and shot a rabbit, but the meat would
not keep. At home they would have put it in the cellar. If only he had a
cellar! He saw near his cave a hole in the rock. He dug it out a little
with his mussel shell and found that it led back under a rock.

From much bending over in digging, Robinson's back, unused to severe
toil, ached wretchedly. He decided to make a spade. With his flint he
bored four holes in a great, round mussel shell. They formed a rectangle
as long as a little finger and as wide. Through these holes he drew
cocoanut fibre and bound the shell to a handle fast and strong.

With his spade he dug a hole so deep that he could stand in it upright.
Then he put in a couple of shelves made of flat stones. In this cellar
he put his rabbit meat and his eggs. Then he laid branches over it and
finally covered the whole with leaves.



With his bow and arrow, Robinson went hunting every day. The rabbits
soon learned to know him and let themselves be seldom seen. As soon as
they saw him, they took alarm. They became timid and shy. One day
Robinson went out as usual to shoot rabbits. He found none. But as he
came to a great rock he heard from behind a new sound, one he had not
heard before in the island. Ba-a-a, it sounded.

"A kid," thought Robinson, "like that with which I have so often played
at home."

He slipped noiselessly around the rock and behold, really there stood a
kid. He tried to call it, but the kid sought safety in flight. He
hastened after it. Then he noticed that it was lame in one fore foot. It
ran into some brush, where Robinson seized it by the horns and held it

How Robinson rejoiced! He stroked it and fondled it. Then he thought,
how could it come into this wilderness on this lonesome island? "Has
your ship been cast upon the rocks too, and been broken to pieces? You
dear thing, you shall be my comrade." He seized the goat by the legs,
and no matter how it kicked, carried it to his cave.

Then he fetched quickly a cocoanut shell full of water and washed and
bathed the goat's wounded leg. A stone had rolled down from the hill and
had inflicted a severe wound on its left fore leg, or perhaps it had
stepped into a crack in the rocks. Robinson tore off a piece of linen
from his shirt, dipped it in water and bound it with shreds of the
cocoanut upon the wound. Then he pulled some grass and moss and made a
soft bed near the door of the cave. After he had given it water, it
looked at him with thankful eyes and licked his hand.

Robinson could not sleep that night. He thought continually of his goat
and got up time and again to see if it was safe. The moon shone clear in
the heavens. As Robinson sat before the goat's bed he looked down on his
new possession as lovingly as a mother on her child.

The next morning Robinson's first thought was, "I am no longer alone. I
have a companion, my goat." He sprang up and looked for it. There she
lay on her side, still sleeping.

As he stood and considered, the thought came to him that perhaps the
goat had escaped from its keeper. There must then be some one living on
the land. He quickly put on his shoes and his hat, took his parasol, and
ran to the rock where he had found the goat.

He called, he sought, he peered about to see if some shepherd were there
somewhere. He found nothing. He found no trace of man. There was no
road, no bridge, no field, no logs, not even a chip or shaving to show
that the hand of man had been there.

But what was that? In the distance ran a herd of goats over the rocks.
But no dog followed them and no shepherd. They ran wild on the island.
They had perhaps been left there by some ship. As he came home he
noticed the goat sorrowfully. The bandage had become dry. The goat might
be suffering pain. Robinson loosened the bandage, washed the wound again
and bound it up anew. It was so trustful. It ran after him and he
decided always to protect it.

"I will always be your shepherd and take care of you," he said.



But the goat was a new care. Wild animals could come and kill and carry
Robinson's goat away while he slept, and if the goat got frightened
while he was hunting it would run away.

"I will have to make me a little yard in front of my cave," he said,
"for my goat to live in." But from whence must come the tools? He had
neither hatchet nor saw. Where then were the stakes to come from? He
went in search of something. After hunting for a long time he came upon
a kind of thistle about two feet higher than himself, having at its top
a red torch-like blossom. There were a great many of them.

"Good!" thought Robinson. "If I could only dig up enough of them and
plant them thick around the door of my cave, I would have just the
thing. No one could get at me, nor at the goat, either. The thorns would
keep anything from creeping through, peeping in or getting over."

So he took his mussel-shell spade and went to work. It was pretty hard,
but at length he succeeded in laying bare the roots of quite a number.
But he could not drag them to his cave on account of the thorns sticking
in him. He thought a long time. Finally, he sought out two strong poles
or branches which were turned up a little at one end and like a sled
runner. To these he tied twelve cross-pieces with bark. To the foremost
he tied a strong rope made from cocoa fiber. He then had something that
looked much like a sled on which to draw his thistle-like brush to his
cave. But for one day he had done enough. The transplanting of the
thistles was hard work. His spade broke and he had to make a new one. In
the afternoon he broke his spade again. And as he made his third one, he
made up his mind that it was no use trying to dig with such a weak tool
in the hard ground. It would only break again.

"If I only had a pick." But he had none. He found a thick, hard, sharp
stone. With it he picked up the hard earth, but had to bend almost
double in using it. "At home," he thought, "they have handles to picks."
The handle was put through a hole in the iron. He turned the matter
over and over in his mind, how he might put a hole through the stone.
But he found no means. He searched out a branch with a crotch at one
end. He tied the stone to this with strong cocoa fiber and bark. How his
eye glistened as he looked at the new tool! Now he began to work. He
first loosened up the earth with his pick, then he dug it out with his
spade and planted in a high thistle. Many days he had to work, but
finally one evening the hedge was ready. He had a row in a semi-circle
in front of his cave. He counted the marks on his calendar tree. The day
on which he had begun to make his hedge he had especially marked out.
He had worked fourteen days.

[Illustration: ROBINSON'S TOOLS]

He had completed his hedge with the exception of a small hole that must
serve for a door. But the door must not be seen from without.

As Robinson thought, it came to him that there was still place for two
thistles on the outside. He could easily get in, but the entrance was
difficult to find from the outside.

Robinson looked on his hedge from without. It was not yet thick enough.
For this reason he planted small thistles between the larger ones. With
the digging them out and transplanting them he was a whole week longer.

Finally, the hedge and the yard were ready. Now Robinson could rest
without fear and sleep in his cave, and could have his goat near him all
the time. It delighted him greatly. It ran after him continually like a
dog. When he came back from an absence, it bleated for joy and ran to
meet him as soon as he got inside the hedge. Robinson felt that he was
not entirely alone. He had now a living being near him.



There was one thing that troubled Robinson greatly. "What will become of
me when the winter comes? I will have no fire to warm me. I have no
clothing to protect me from the cold, and where shall I find food when
snow and ice cover all the ground and when the trees are bare and the
spring is frozen? It will be cold then in my cave; what shall I do? It
is cold and rainy already. I believe this is harvest time and winter
will soon be here. Winter and no stove, no winter clothing, no winter
store of food and no winter dwelling. What shall I do?"

He considered again the project of making fire. He again sought out two
pieces of wood and sat down and rubbed them together. The sweat rolled
down his face. When the wood began to get warm, his hand would become
tired, and he would have to stop. When he began again the wood was cold.
He worked for an hour or two, then he laid the wood aside and said, "I
don't believe I can do it. I must do the next best thing. I can at least
get warm clothing to protect me from the rain and snow." He looked down
at his worn, thin clothing, his trousers, his shirt, his jacket; they
had become so thin and worn that they were threadbare.

"I will take the skins of the hares which I have shot and will make me
something," he thought. He washed and cleaned them, but he needed a
knife and he set about making one. He split one end of a tough piece of
wood, thrust his stone blade in it and wound it with cocoa fibre. His
stone knife now had a handle. He could now cut the skins quite well. But
what should he do for needle and thread? Maybe the vines would do. "But
they are hardly strong enough," he thought. He pulled the sinews from
the bones of the rabbit and found them hard. Maybe he could use them. He
found fish skeletons on the seashore and bored a hole in the end of the
small, sharp rib bones. Then he threaded his bone needle with the rabbit
sinews and attempted to sew, but it would not go. His needle broke. The
skin was too hard. He bored holes in the edge of the pieces of skin and
sewed through the holes. This went very well.

He sewed the skins together with the hair side inward, made himself a
jacket, a pair of trousers, a hat, and finally covered his parasol with
rabbit skin, for the rain had already dripped through the leaves of it.
All went well, only the trousers did not fit. He loosened them and
puckered them to no purpose. "Anyway," he thought, "I am now well
protected from the cold, when it does come."




Now for the food. Could Robinson preserve the meat? He had often heard
his mother tell about preserving meat in salt. He had even eaten salt
meat, pickled meat. But where could he get salt?

One day when the wind blew hard the water was driven upon the shore and
filled a little hollow. After a few days the ground glistened white as
snow where the water had been. Was it snow? Robinson took it in his
hands and put it in his mouth. It was salt. The sun had evaporated the
water in the hollow--had vaporized it--and the air had drunk it up. What
was left behind? Salt. Now he could get salt as long as he needed it.

He took cocoanut shells and strewed salt in them. Then he cut the rabbit
meat in thin strips, rubbed them with salt, and laid them one on the
other in the salt in the shells. He covered it over with a layer of
salt. He put over each shell the half of a larger one and weighted it
down with stones. After a period of fourteen days he found the meat
quite red. It had pickled.

But he did not stop here. He gathered and stored in his cellar cocoanuts
and corn in such quantities that he would be supplied for a whole
winter. It seemed best to catch a number of rabbits, build a house for
them and keep them. Then he could kill one occasionally and have fresh
meat. Then it came to him that goats would be much better, for they
would give milk. He determined immediately to have a herd of goats. He
made a string or lasso out of cocoa fibre.

Then he went out, slipped up quietly to a herd of goats and threw the
lasso over one. But the lasso slipped from the horns and the goat ran
away. The next day he had better luck. He threw the lasso, drew it tight
and the goat was captured. He brought it home. He rejoiced when he saw
that it gave milk. He was happy when he got his first cocoanut shell
full of sweet rich milk. His goat herd grew. He soon had five goats. He
had no more room in his yard. He could not provide food enough. He must
let them out. He must make another hedge around his yard so that the
goats could get food and yet be kept from going away. He got stakes
from the woods and gathered them before his cave. He sharpened them and
began to drive them in the earth. But it rained more and more each day.
He was wet through as he worked. He had finally to stop work, for the
rain was too heavy.



Robinson was much disturbed because he had no means of keeping a record
of things as they happened from day to day. He had his calendar, it is
true. He would not lose track of the time. But he wished for some way to
write down his thoughts and what happened. So he kept up keen search for
anything that would serve him for this purpose.

Every time he journeyed about the island he kept careful watch for
something that he might write upon. He thought of the leaves of the palm
tree, the white under surface of the shelf fungus. But these he found
would not do. He tried many kinds of bark and leaves. There was a kind
of tall reed or grass growing in the marshes whose rind seemed good when
dried. He examined the inner bark of many trees. He at last found that
the inner bark of a tree which resembled our elm tree worked best. He
would cut through the bark with his stone knife around the tree. At
about one foot from this he would cut another ring. He then would cut
through the bark lengthwise from one circular cut to the other. He could
then peel off the section easily. While it was yet full of sap he would
separate the soft, tough, thin inner layer of the bark. This usually
came off in sheets without a break. When these sheets of bark were
stretched and dried they could be used very nicely instead of paper.

Robinson next searched for something that would serve him as ink, and
this was much easier to find than paper. He had noticed many kinds of
galls of many different colors growing on trees. He did not know what
they were, or how they grew, but he had learned in his father's store
that ink was often made from galls gathered from trees. "Anyway," he
thought, "I can get ink from the cuttle-fish." He had watched this
animal get away from its enemies by sending out a cloud of purplish
fluid, in which to hide as it darted away. He had learned also that
indigo is made from the leaves of a plant. He had noticed a plant
growing in the open places in the forest whose leaves turned black when

Robinson gathered a quantity of gall-nuts and soaked them in water. To
the black fluid thus obtained he added a little rice water to make it
flow well, and this served very well as an ink. He kept his ink in a cup
made from a cocoanut shell.

He was not long in getting a pen, though the lack of a good sharp knife
made it hard to make a good one. In going about he had gathered a
quantity of large feathers. He saved these for the time when he should
have his paper and ink ready. Now, he cut away a quill to a point and
split it up a little way. He was now supplied with writing materials.
"Is it not wonderful," he thought, "how all our wants are filled? We
have only to want a thing badly enough and it comes."

Robinson began at once to write down the date for each day and the main
thing he did or that happened on it. He called this his diary. He had
now a better way of keeping time than on his tree calendar. He did not
need it any more.

You have no doubt wondered how Robinson could work in his cave,
especially at night without a light. The truth is, it was a great source
of discomfort to him. At sunset he was in total darkness in his cave.
During the day light enough streamed in from the open doorway. To be
alone in total darkness is not pleasant. "If I only had fire!" he said
again and again.

He watched the many large beetles and fire-flies flash their light in
the dark of the evening as he sat in front of his shelter. The thought
came to him that if he only had some way of keeping together a number of
them, they would serve very well for a candle in his cave at night. How
he longed for a glass bottle such as he had so often wantonly broken
when at home! Back of his shelter there was a hill where the rock layers
jutted out. He had noticed here several times the thin transparent rock
that he had seen in his father's store. It is called isinglass.

"I will make a living lantern," he said aloud in his eagerness.

He soon had a suitable piece pried loose. He cut a part of a cocoanut
shell away and in its place he put a sheet of isinglass. That evening at
dark he gathered several handfuls of the great fire beetles and put them
in his lantern. What joy their glow gave him in his cave at night. It
was almost as much comfort as a companion. But while it lighted up the
deep dark of the cave and enabled him to move about, he was unable after
all to write in his diary at night. Every morning he set his captives
free. In the evening he would go out and capture his light.



One evening Robinson went to bed sound and well. The next morning he was
sick. Before he had only the heat of the day to complain of. To-day he
was freezing. He wanted to go to work to get warm, but even this did not
break his chill. It increased till his teeth chattered with the cold.

"Perhaps," thought he, "if I can sleep a little I will get better." But
he could not sleep. He was burning with fever and then shaking with cold
by turns. He felt a strong thirst, but he was so weak that he could
scarcely get the goat's milk. He had no sooner drunk the milk than his
tongue was as dry as before. He felt better after a night of sleep, but
the next day his fever and chills were worse than before. Then he
bethought him of his parents. How kindly his mother had taken care of
him! Now no one was near that could assist him.

"Ah," he sighed, "must I die here? Who would bury me? There is no one
to miss me." At this the tears came to his eyes.

His sickness increased with each day. Occasionally the fever would go
down sufficiently to allow him to get something to eat. Then it would be
worse than before. In his dire need he wanted to pray, but he was so
weak that he could only stammer, "Dear God, help me, or I shall die!"

One night he had a strange dream. He thought he saw his good old father
standing before him calling to him. He spread out his arms and cried
aloud, "Here I am, here I am!" He tried to get up, but he was so weak
that he fell back fainting.

He lay there a long time, but finally came to. He felt a burning thirst,
but no one reached him a drop of water. He prepared to die. He folded
his hands and prayed to God that he would be merciful to him. He prayed
forgiveness from his parents. Once more he raised his head and gazed
wildly around, then he sank back and knew no more.

When he again awoke he felt better. His hot fever had gone. He attempted
to walk. He had just enough strength to crawl to the table and fetch a
shell of water. When he tried to walk he had to sit down at every two or
three steps.

From this he recovered gradually, growing better and better, and he
thanked God inwardly for his recovery. His sickness had continued from
June 18 to July 3.



Robinson's sickness set him thinking about his home. He had been so
afraid of animals when he came to the island that he thought of nothing
but protection from them. He had been now a year on the island and had
seen nothing more dangerous than a goat. The fear of animals had
practically faded away. In thinking over his sickness he made up his
mind that it was caused by sleeping in his cave where the sun never
shone. The ventilation seemed good, but the walls were damp, especially
in the rainy season. Then the water would trickle down through the cleft
in spite of all he could do.

He resolved to build, if possible, a little cottage, or, as he called
it, a bower, in the yard in front of his shelter. The hedge of thistles
was growing and formed a fence that an animal could not get through. His
screen of willows on the outside of this would soon hide him from view
from the sea. He had the wall of rock and the hill behind him.

He planned out his way of building it very carefully. "It must be done,"
he said (Robinson formed the habit of talking to himself, so that he
would not forget how to talk), "without hammer, nails, or saw."

He first sought out four posts, as large as he could well handle. There
were always broken trees and branches in the forest. If he searched long
enough he could find posts just suited to his need. He wanted four of
the same thickness and height and with a fork at the end. After long
searching he found what he wanted. He was careful to get those that he
could drag to his shelter.

He placed these in the ground, forming the corners of a square about ten
feet long. In the forks he placed poles running around about eight feet
from the ground. At about every three feet he fastened others, running
in the same way, with heavy cords made of fibre. He found his greatest
trouble with the roof. It must be sloped to shed rain. He had to find
two more forked posts, three or four feet longer than the others. These
he placed opposite each other in the centers of two sides. Upon these he
placed a ridge pole. He then laid other poles lengthwise from ridge pole
to the edge of the frames.

His frame was now done. His plan was now to cover this frame with straw
or grasses tied in bundles. He had seen the barns in the country
thatched in this way by the Dutch farmers in New York State. He gathered
the straw of the wild rice. It was long, straight and tough. It was
easily tied into flat bundles. These he bound securely on to the frame
work with cords. He began at the bottom so that the ends of the row
would lap over the tops of the last one put on.

[Illustration: ROBINSON'S BOWER]

In this way he built a very comfortable and rainproof bower. It was
easy to make a bed of poles covered with straw. A table and bench were
added and shelves of poles.

Robinson felt great joy over this new home. "I will not now be sick any
more," he said. "In case of danger I can get into my cave. But at all
other times I will live in my bower." He had use still for his cave. He
could use it to store some things in. But he had to be careful about the
dampness in wet weather.

Robinson was getting to feel at home. He was no longer so sad. He did
not grieve so much for home. He looked upon his home with great delight.
It was secure. He had his herd of goats always in his sight. At evening
he would do his milking. He found he could keep the milk for some time
in the cave. He was tempted to try making some butter from the good,
rich cream. "But," said Robinson, "I have neither vessels to make it in
nor bread to eat it on."

He planned many things to do. "I will make a hammock some day for my
bower and some vessels to use in my work," he thought.



When Robinson recovered his strength he had a strong desire to see more
of the island. At first he had been in constant fear of wild animals,
but now he thought he would like to see all there was to see in the
island. On the 15th of July he started out. First he went to a brook
which ran into the sea near his cave. Its water was clear and pure;
along its shore lay beautiful meadows. As he came to the upper course of
the brook the meadow gave way to forest. On the border of the forest he
found melons and grapes.

The night came on and he slept again in a tree. The next morning he went
farther and came to a clear rivulet. Here the region was wonderfully
beautiful. The flowers bloomed as in a garden, and near the flowers
stood splendid apple and orange trees. He took as much of the fruit as
he could carry and went on his way. This journey continued three days.
The grapes which he had carried he dried in the sun and made raisins.

The 10th of September came, one year had passed on the island. He was
many hundred miles from home, alone on an island. With tears he cried
out, "Ah! what are my dear parents saying? They have no doubt long given
me up as dead. If I could only send them a message to comfort them and
let them know how much I love them!"

The day was celebrated as a holiday. He thanked God that He had given
him so many good things. Often he had lived the whole day in care and
anxiety. Now he tried to be more cheerful and to meet the troubles of
each day with courage.

But Robinson was not yet satisfied. He longed to know more of the island
and prepared himself for a greater journey. He slung his hunting pouch
over his shoulder, filled it full of food, took his bow and arrows,
stuck his stone hatchet in his belt and started on his way. He traveled
over meadows, through beautiful forests in which were hundreds of birds.
He was delighted as they sang and fluttered about.

The journey was beautiful and pleasant to Robinson. In the forests he
often saw small wild creatures, but he shot nothing. After the first
night he slept under a tree in the soft grass, for he had now no fear of
wild animals.

Along the shore he saw great groves of palms with their large nuts. He
saw, too, many goats in all parts of the island.

Now he was ready to take the shortest way home. He had not gone far
before he came into a dark forest. He became confused and wandered about
for several days. On the fourth day he came to a little pile of stones,
which he had made to mark the way as he was going out. From this place
the way was easy to find. On this trip he was gone already two weeks.



Of all the things he saw on his journey Robinson was most delighted with
the birds. They were of the most beautiful colors. The forest was full
of them. They gleamed like jewels in the deep masses of foliage. In the
morning their singing filled the air with sound.

Robinson had never taken much notice of the birds at home. But now every
living thing attracted him. He loved to see them happy. He would watch
often by the hour and learn the habits of nesting and getting food of
nearly every bird on the island.

Robinson did not know the names of many of the birds he saw on the
island. He had to make names for them. The strangest thing he saw on his
journey was the nest of what he called the yellow-tail. This bird lives
in colonies and makes its nest at the ends of the long leaves of the
mountain palm. When he first saw these queer looking sacks hanging from
the leaves he was amazed. He had never seen so strange a sight. From
the end of each great leaf hung a long, closely woven nest. Robinson
could not make out at first what they were. Soon, however, he saw the
birds come out of the mouths of the nests. Here, one hundred feet from
the ground, they hung their nests. But they were perfectly safe.

He had not gone far from the tree in which the yellow tails had their
nests when he was suddenly startled by a voice crying, "Who, who are
you?" Robinson was greatly frightened and hid beneath the drooping
branches of a cedar tree. He feared every moment that the owner of the
voice would make his appearance. But it kept at a distance. Every few
minutes from the depths of the forest would come the doleful cry, "Who,
who are you?" Robinson did not dare to stir from his hiding place. He
remained there over night. After the night came on he heard the strange
voice no more.

The next day he renewed his journey. He saw many birds that were wholly
strange to him. There was a kind of wild pigeon that built its home in a
hole in the rock. It was a most beautiful bird with long, slender,
graceful feathers in its tail. He saw the frigate bird soaring high
above the island. The number and beauty of the humming-birds amazed
Robinson. They were of all colors. One had a bill in the shape of a
sickle. The most brilliant of them all was the ruby-crested

Near noon, while Robinson was shielding himself from the scorching heat
of the sun in a deep, shaded glen, he was startled again by the strange
voice crying, "Who, who, who are you?" He lay quite still, determined if
possible to allow the voice to come, if it would, within sight. He heard
it slowly coming up the glen. Each time it repeated the cry it sounded
nearer. At last he saw spying at him through the boughs of the tree
under which he was lying a large bird with soft, silky feathers of green
and chestnut. "Who, who, who are you?" said the bird. Robinson could not
help but laugh. He had been frightened at the cry of a bird.

But the bird that interested Robinson most was the parrot. There were
several kinds of them. They flew among the trees with great noise and
clatter and shrieking. Robinson determined if possible to secure one for
a pet. "I can teach it to talk," he said, "and I will have something to
talk to." As soon as he returned home he set about catching one. He
noticed that a number were in the habit of visiting an old tree near
the shelter every morning. He planned to snare one and tried several
mornings, but he could not get one into the snare. He tried to hit one
with his bow and arrow. He at last succeeded in hitting one and stunning
it so that it fell to the ground. He ran rapidly to pick it up, but
before he could get to where it lay in the bushes it had disappeared.

After thinking the matter over he concluded that it would be much better
to get a pair of young birds and raise them. The old ones would be hard
to tame and difficult to teach. It was easy enough to find a nest in a
hollow tree. He secured from the nest two birds just ready to fly. He
made a cage for them out of willow rods. He placed the cage at the
entrance of his cave and studied how he would feed them. Much to his
surprise the parent birds discovered their young ones and brought them
food and fed them through the open work of the cage.

When the birds were grown they rapidly learned to talk. Robinson took
great delight in teaching them. He taught them to call his name and when
he came near they would call out, "Poor old Robinson Crusoe!"

These birds remained for many years with Robinson. In fact, he was never
afterward without a parrot. They helped him to pass away very
pleasantly many hours that without them would have been sad.

Another bird that Robinson loved was the little house wren. This bird
was exceedingly tame and friendly. It was a very sweet and strong
singer. It loved to make its nest in or near his shelter. There it would
build and rear its young, within reach of his hands, while its throat
was always bursting with melody.

The mocking bird, too, always nested near and awakened him in the
morning with its wonderful song.

Robinson became a great friend and favorite of the bird inhabitants of
the island. They seemed to know him and showed no fear when near him.
This pleased him very much.



Robinson was now pretty comfortable. He had his bower with its chair and
table. He had his cave in case of danger. He had his cellar in which to
keep his meat. He would sit in the shade near the door of his bower and
think of the many things he should be thankful for. But there was one
hardship that Robinson could not get used to and that was the eating of
raw food. "How fine it would be if only I could parch a few grains of
corn in the fire! I could like live a prince," thought he, "if I had
fire. I would grind some of my corn into flour and make some corn bread
or cakes and cook rice." He did so long for roasted meat and determined
again to make the attempt to get fire.

Robinson was fast losing his idle, thoughtless ways of doing things. He
had become a thoughtful and diligent man in the short time that he had
been on the island. Trouble and hardship had made a man of him. "I must
carefully think over the whole matter of getting fire," he said. He had
failed twice and was now resolved to succeed. "If the lightning would
only strike a tree," he thought, "and set it on fire."

But he could not wait for such a thing to happen, and how could he keep
it when once thus obtained? It was clear he must have some way of
producing fire when he wanted it, just as they did at home. He thought
over the ways he had tried and the one most likely to be successful. He
resolved to make a further trial of the method by twirling a stick in
his hands. He selected new wood that was hard and dry. He carefully
sharpened a stick about eighteen inches long and, standing it upright in
a hollow in the block of wood, began to roll it between his hands. By
the time Robinson's hands were well hardened, it seemed that he was
going to succeed at last. But he lacked the skill to be obtained only by
long practice.

"If I could only make it go faster," he said. "There must be some way of
doing this. I believe I can do it. I used to make my top spin round with
a cord; I wonder if I can use the cord here." The only cord he had was
attached to his bow. He was going to take it off when a thought struck
him. He loosened the string a bit and twisted it once about his
spindle. Then he drew the bow back and forth. The spindle was turned at
a great rate. He saw he must hold one end with his left hand while the
other rested in the hollow in the block. With his right, he drew the bow
back and forth. How eagerly he worked! He had twirled but a few minutes
when the dust in the hollow burst into fire from the heat produced by
the rapidly twirling spindle.


Robinson was too overjoyed to make any use of it. He danced and capered
about like one gone mad until the fire had gone out. But that was of no
matter now, since he could get fire when he wanted it.

He hastened to make him a rude fireplace and oven of stones. He hollowed
out a place in the ground and lined and covered it with large flat
stones. On one side he built up a chimney to draw up the smoke and make
the fire burn brightly. He brought wood and some dry fungus or
mushroom. This he powdered and soon had fire caught in it. He kindled in
this way the wood in his stove and soon had a hot fire.

The first thing he did in the way of cooking was to roast some rabbit
meat on a spit or forked stick held in his hand over the fire. Nothing
Robinson had ever eaten was to be compared to this.

"I can do many things now," thought Robinson. "My work will not be
nearly so hard. My fire will be my servant and help me make my tools as
well as cook my food. I can now cook my corn and rice."



Robinson still continued anxious about his food supply when he could no
longer gather it fresh from the fields and forest. Corn had again become
ripe. He had found in a wet, marshy place some wild rice-plants loaded
with ripened grain. As he now had fire he only had to have some way of
storing up grains and he would not lack for food. He knew that grain
stored away must be kept dry and that he must especially provide against
dampness in his cave or in his bower.

If he only had some baskets. These would be just the thing. But how was
he to get them? Robinson had never given a thought to either material or
the method of making them. He, however, was gradually acquiring skill
and confidence in himself. So far he had managed to meet all his wants.
He had invented tools and made his own clothes and shelter, and, "Now,"
said he to himself, "I will solve the new problem. I must first study
the materials that I have at hand." He remembered the splint market
baskets in which his father took vegetables home from the store. He
recalled how the thin splints were woven.

"They went over and under," he said. "That is simple enough if I had the
splints." He set himself diligently to work to find a plant whose bark
or split branches could be used for splints. He tried to peel off the
rough outer bark of several trees in order to examine the inner layers
of soft fibrous material. He found several trees that gave promise of
furnishing abundance of long, thin strips, but the labor of removing the
bark with his rude imperfect tools was so great that he resolved that he
would have to find some other kind of material.

"Why need the strips be flat?" he thought. "I believe I could weave them
in the same way if I used the long, thin, tough willow rods I saw
growing by the brookside, when I was returning from my journey."

He found on trial that the weaving went very well, but that he must have
strong, thick rods or ribs running up and down to give strength and form
to his basket. He worked hard, but it was slow work. It was three days
before his first basket was done. He made many mistakes and was obliged
many times to undo what he had accomplished in order to correct some
error. And at last when he had woven the basket as large as he thought
was suitable for his purpose, he did not know how to stop or finish the
top so as to keep the basket from unraveling. At last he hit upon the
plan of fastening two stout rods, one outside, the other inside, the
basket. These he sewed firmly, over and over, to the basket with a kind
of fibre from a plant he had discovered that looked almost to be what he
had heard called the century plant in the parks at home.

On attempting his next basket, he thought long how he might improve and
save time. He must hasten, or the now almost daily rains would destroy
his ripened wild corn and rice.

"If I could use coils of that long grass I saw growing in the marsh
beside the rice," he thought, "I could make twice the progress." He
gathered an armful, twisted it into cables about an inch thick and wove
it into his frame of upright rods instead of the horizontal layer of
willow canes. This answered his purpose just as well and rendered the
making of large baskets the work of a few hours. He found, however, that
the willow rods or osiers were not pliant enough to work well in
fastening his coils of grass cables together. He tried several things
and at last succeeded best when he used the long thread-like fibre of
the century-like plant. He had, however, to make a stout framework of
rods. He would first coil his grass rope into this frame and then sew it
together with twine or thread made from this fibre.

[Illustration: ROBINSON'S BASKETS]

He afterwards tried making smaller and finer baskets out of the fibre
that he had discovered, which could be easily had from the thick-leaved
plant he thought he had seen at home. He first used long, tough, fine
roots he had seen when digging up the tree at the mouth of his cave.
Afterwards he discovered some tall, tough reeds growing near by. He laid
in a supply of these. He found that when he wanted to use them, a good
soaking in water made them as pliable and tough as when first cut.

The making of the baskets and storing up grains made it possible for
Robinson to become a farmer and thus make himself independent. This
thought was a great relief to him.



Robinson had now been on the island long enough to know how the seasons
changed. He found that there were two kinds of weather there, wet
weather and dry weather. There were two wet seasons in each year and two
dry ones. During the wet seasons, which lasted nearly three months,
Robinson had to remain pretty closely at home, and could not gather
grain, for the plants were then starting from the seeds. It ripened in
the dry seasons. Robinson soon found that he must have a store of corn
and wild rice for food during the rainy seasons. He, however, knew
nothing about planting and harvesting, nor preparing the ground for

He had it all to learn with no teacher or books to instruct him. He
found a little space near his dwelling free from trees and thought he
would plant some corn seed here. He did not know the proper time for
planting. He thought because it was warm, seed would grow at any time.
It happened his first seed was put in at the beginning of the dry
season. He watched and waited to rejoice his eyes with the bright green
of sprouting corn, but the seed did not grow. There was no rain and the
sun's heat parched the land till it was dry and hard on the upland where
his corn was planted.

"Very well," thought Robinson, "I will plant it at the beginning of the
wet season, either in March or September." He did so; the seed quickly
sprouted up. But the weeds, shrubs, and vines sprouted as quickly, and
before Robinson was aware, his corn was overgrown and choked out by a
rank growth of weeds and vines.

"I see," said Robinson, "that I must thoroughly prepare the soil before
planting my seed." But he had no spade and no other tool that would
stand the strain of digging among tough matted roots. But he must
succeed. He put a new handle in the stone hoe or pick he had already
made. His mussel shell spade was worn out. He must set himself to
fashion out another. He decided to make one from the tough heavy wood of
a tree that grew plentifully in the forest.

He was lucky enough to find a tree of this kind whose bole had been
split lengthwise by the falling of an old rotten tree near it. With his
stone tools and the help of fire he managed after several days' work to
make a wide sharpened tool out of one of the large pieces split off. It
was a little over three feet long. He had trimmed one end small and cut
notches in the sides about one foot from the flat end. He could place
his foot in the notch and thrust his wooden spade into the earth. With
his rude tool he dug up and turned the soil of a small space of ground
several times to kill the vines and weeds. His corn quickly sprouted
after this attempt and outstripped the weeds and vines which Robinson
constantly had to hold in check by pulling and hoeing. He was rejoiced
at his growing crop and went each morning to feast his eyes on the
rapidly expanding leaves and ears.

One morning as he came in sight of the little clearing he thought he saw
something disappearing in the low brush on the other side as he
approached. Alas, his labor had been in vain! A herd of wild goats had
found out the place and had utterly destroyed his crop. Robinson sat
down nearby and surveyed the ruin of his little field. "It is plain,"
thought he, "I will have to fence in the field or I will never be able
to harvest my crop. I cannot watch it all the time."

He had already learned from his experience in making the fence around
the goat pasture that the branches of many kinds of shrubs and trees,
when broken off and thrust into the ground, will send out roots and
leaves and at length if planted close together in a line, will form a
thick hedge which no kind of beast can get through or over. He found out
some willow trees whose branches broke easily, and soon had enough to
thrust into the ground about six inches apart around the entire edge of
his little field, which contained about one eighth of an acre.

After this hedge had grown so as to be a fair protection to his crop he
tried planting again at the proper season. He spaded up the ground and
pulled out the matted roots as best he could and with great pains and
care planted his corn in straight even rows. To make them straight and
each hill of corn the same distance from its neighbors, he first marked
off the ground in squares whose sides were about three and one half feet

"Now," thought he, "I will reap the reward of my labor." The corn grew
rapidly, and toward the end of the first dry season was filling out and
ripening its ears. But to Robinson's dismay a new danger threatened his
crop against which he could not fence. He was in despair. The birds were
fast eating and destroying his partially ripened corn. He could not
husk it yet. It was not ripe enough. He thought how easy it would be to
protect his field if he had a gun. But he had learned that it is useless
to give time to idle dreaming. He must do something and that quick.

"If I could catch some of these rascals," he thought, "I would hang them
up on poles, dead, as a warning to the rest." It seemed almost a
hopeless task, but he went about it. It was in vain he tried to kill
some of them by throwing rocks and sticks. He could not get near enough
to them. At length he laid snares and succeeded in snaring three birds.
He had learned to weave a pliable, strong thong out of cocoa and other
fibre that he was now acquainted with. The birds thus caught he fastened
on broken branches of trees which he stuck into the earth in different
parts of his field. The birds heeded the warning and visited his corn
field no more that season.

At the end of the season he gathered or husked his corn and after it was
thoroughly dry he shelled it from the cob with his hands. He used his
baskets in which to carry his husked ears from the field to his cave and
in which to store it when shelled. He found that the ears were larger
and better filled and plumper than when the plants grew wild. He
selected the largest and best filled ears for his seed the next time. In
this way his new crop of corn was always better in kind and yielded more
than the old one.

At first he grew two crops a year, but by experimenting he found out
about how much he needed for his own use and planted once a year enough
to give him a liberal supply.

He observed that the wild rice grew in swampy lands, so that he did not
make the mistake of trying to raise it upon the upland where the corn
grew best. He saw at once that the planting of rice on low, marshy or
wet land was beyond his present strength and tools. "Some time in the
future," he thought, "I may try it."

Robinson also found wild grapes in abundance. These he dried by hanging
them on the branches of trees. He thus had a store of raisins for each
rainy season.



Robinson was now anxious to cook his food, to boil his rice and
vegetables and bake bread, but he could do nothing without cooking
vessels. He had tried to use cocoanut shells, but these were too small
and there was no way to keep them from falling over and spilling the
contents. He determined to try to make some clay vessels. He knew where
he could get a kind of clay that had the appearance of making good ware.
It was fine grained and without lumps or pebbles. He was much perplexed
to mould the clay into right shapes. He tried taking a lump and shaping
it into a vessel with his hands. He tried many times, but each time the
clay broke and he was forced to try some other way. He recalled how he
had made his basket out of strands of twisted grass and wondered whether
he could not make his pots in the same way.

He spun the clay out into a long rope and began to coil it around a
small basket forming the layers together with his hands. This was easy,
but he did not see clearly how he was going to get the basket out from
the inside of the pot. He found he could copy in this way any form he
wished, but he finally hit upon the plan of making a form of wicker work
and coiling the clay rope inside it, for he saw that whether he
succeeded or not in getting the clay free from the basket he could use
the pot, and besides if the pot would stand the fire the basket would
burn off. To dry the pots Robinson stood them in the sun a few days.
When they were dry he tried to cook some soup in one of them. He filled
it with water and put it on his stove or oven, but how sadly had he
deceived himself. In a short time the water soaked into the clay and
soon the pot had fallen to pieces.

"How foolish I am!" said Robinson to himself; "the pots have to be fired
before they can be used." He set about this at once. He found two stones
of equal size, placed them near each other and laid a third across
these. He then placed three large pots upon them and made a hot fire
under them. No sooner had the flame shot up than one of the pots cracked
in two. "I probably made the fire too hot at first," thought Robinson.

He drew out some of the coals and wood, but afterwards gradually
increased the fire again. He could not, however, get the pots hot enough
to turn red. He brought the dryest and hardest wood, but could not
succeed in getting them hot enough to turn red. At length he was tired
out and was compelled to give it up. When the pots were cool he tried to
boil water in one. It was no better than the sun dried one.

He saw that he must provide some way to get the pots much hotter than he
could in the open air. He resolved to make an oven of stones large
enough to take in the wood as well as the pots. It must be above ground
so that there might be plenty of draught for the fire. With great labor,
he pried up and carried together flat stones enough to make an oven
about four feet high with a chimney at one side. He had put in the
center a stone table on which he could place three quite large pots. He
left an opening in one side that could be partially closed by a large,
flat stone.

He worked eagerly and at the end of the second day he was ready to fire
his oven. He first carried together a good quantity of dry wood, then he
put in his pots and laid the wood around them. In a short time he had a
very hot fire. He kept this up all day and until late at night.


The next morning he went to his oven and found his pots were a beautiful
red. He drew out the fire and allowed them to cool slowly. Then he
filled one with water and set it over the fire to heat it. Before many
minutes the water was boiling and Robinson had another reason to be
thankful. He wept for joy. His patient labors had brought their rewards.
No prince could feel as happy as Robinson now. He had overcome all
difficulties. Starting with nothing but his hands, he was now able to
supply all his wants. "If I only had a companion now," he thought, "I
would have nothing further to wish as long as I stay on the island."



Now that Robinson had fire, he determined to try to make bread. He had
seen the servants at home make bread many times, but he had not observed
closely and knew next to nothing about the way bread is made. He knew he
must in some way grind the corn into flour, but how could he do this? He
had no mill nor any tools with which to crush the corn.

He first tried to find a stone large and hard enough out of which he
might hollow a vessel or kind of mortar. He thought he could put the
corn into this mortar and grind it by means of another stone or pestle.
It was with great difficulty that he could get a stone of suitable size
and form. After several days' trial he at last got one cut out from some
layers of rock near the shore. He made a hollow place in it. Then he
took a smaller oblong shaped rock for his pestle.

He took great pride in these new tools. "I shall soon be a
stone-cutter," he said to himself, "as well as a farmer and potter." But
his stone mortar was a failure. The rock was too soft. Every time he
thrust the pestle down, it loosened small pieces of the stone vessel.
These mixed with the ground corn or flour and made it unfit to eat.
There was no way to separate the sand from the crushed grain.

He resolved then to try to make a mortar and pestle of hard wood. Now
that he had fire, he could do this, though it cost him many a hard day's
work. He found not far away a log of very hard wood. By building a fire
at the right distance from one end he was able to separate a piece of
the log. He rolled this to his cave and made a good-sized hollow in it
by burning. This pestle was not so difficult to make. He took a limb or
branch of an ironwood tree, burned it in two at the place to make it the
right length. By burning also he rounded one end and then he was ready
for the grinding. After cleaning his mortar and pestle carefully he
placed some corn in the hollow and soon had some fine yellow meal or
flour without any grit or sand in it.

His next care was to separate the coarse outer husk or covering of the
kernel from the finer parts that make the meal. He had no sieve. His
net was too coarse. It let both bran and meal go through. "I must make a
net or cloth fine enough to sift or bolt my flour," said he. Such was
now his skill in spinning and weaving that this was not hard to do. He
had soon woven in his loom a piece of fine netting which allowed the
meal to shake through, but held back the coarse bran or outer husk of
the kernel. Out of the dry corn that he had stored up he now made quite
a quantity of flour. This he kept tightly covered in a large earthen pot
or jar that he had made for this purpose. "I must keep all my food clean
and protect it from the ants and other insects as well as dust and
damp," he thought.

His preparations were now nearly made. He had already his stove of flat
stones. On this he could set his pots to boil water, cook rice, and
meat, but it would not do for baking a loaf of bread of any thickness.
He must have an oven or enclosed place into which he could put the loaf
to bake it. By the use of flat stones he soon rebuilt his stove so as to
have an oven that did fine service. Now it was mixing the dough that
claimed his attention. He had of course no yeast to make raised or light
bread. He poured goats' milk on the flour and kneaded it into a thick
dough. He did not forget to add salt. He placed his loaf in a shallow
earthen pan he had made for this purpose. After the fire had heated the
stones of his oven through, he put in his loaf and soon was enjoying a
meal of corn bread and meat stew.

Robinson soon tried to make cocoa from the beans of the cocoa palm that
grew in the island. This with good rich goats' milk in it he thought the
best drink in the world. He often thought of making sugar from the sugar
cane plant he had discovered in the island. But the labor of squeezing
out the juice was too great. He could think of no way to do this without
the help of horses or oxen.



Robinson was now eager to use his fire and cooking vessels. He had
noticed with hungry eyes fine large fish in the creek near his cave. But
he had never taken the trouble to catch any. "What is the use?" he
thought. "I cannot eat them raw." It was different now and he began to
devise ways of making a catch. How he longed for a fish-hook, such as he
had so often used when loitering along the Hudson River! "But a
fish-hook is not to be thought of," he said to himself, "unless I can
make one of bone." He went down to the brook and searched long for a
fish-bone that he might make use of for this purpose. He found nothing.

"I must try something else," he thought. He remembered the nets he used
to see along the Hudson and wondered if he could not make a small one to
pull through the water and thus catch the fish.

He had now a better source of fibre for weaving and for spinning into
lines and ropes. He had discovered this when he was trying to find a
good strong thread or yarn with which to bind the coils of his
grass-made baskets together. He obtained fibre in great abundance from
the century-like plant. He found if he broke off the long leaves of this
plant and allowed them to decay there remained a long, tough fibrous
substance out of which strong cords could be twisted or yarn made for
weaving a coarse cloth or netting.

Out of this he spun yarn thread to make a net about three or four feet
by two feet. He fastened cords to four corners of this, tied them to a
long pole, and was now prepared to test his plan for catching fish.

The brook he found was too shallow for him to catch fish in this way. At
the sight of him and his net, they scurried away to deep water. Neither
could he succeed in the shallow water along the shore. "I must wade out
as far as I can," he said to himself, "and draw the net through the

As he did this he was surprised at the many forms of sea life, new to
him, that he saw. He, however, was careful and watchful. He walked along
near the shore to a point where some rocks showed above the surface. As
he looked ahead he saw the single eye of a giant cuttle-fish glaring at
him from among the rocks. It was thrusting out its long arms towards
him. He drew back quickly, but as he did so he was terrified to hear the
snap of some huge creature's jaws near him. A great shark had seen him
and had thrown himself on his back to seize him in his rows of sharp
teeth, but was prevented reaching him by the shallowness of the water.

Robinson was too much terrified to continue longer his attempt at
fishing. He went back to his cave with only a few small ones, not worth
the trouble of dressing for his dinner.

The next day undismayed he tried again. He succeeded in drawing in some
very beautiful large fish. Their sides shone as burnished gold and
silver. "Now," he thought, "I will have a feast." He carried them home,
carefully cleaned and dressed them, seasoned them with his salt, and
broiled them over his fire. Imagine his disappointment when they proved
unfit to eat. Their flesh was coarse and tough and ill-tasting. He saw
that the catching of fish for his table was a more difficult thing than
he thought it. He must not only catch fish, but catch ones that could be
eaten. He could only tell the good from the bad by trying them.

He was more fortunate in his next venture. He was going along the shore
at the mouth of the creek which ran near his cave when he noticed a
group of fishes, dark bluish above with silvery sides. The largest of
them were about two feet long. They were feeding on the bottom in the
brackish water at the mouth of the creek, which at its mouth opened out
into quite a little bay or inlet. They would take up a mouthful of earth
from the bottom and let it wash through their mouths, keeping all the
bits of food that happened to be in it. When one fish got a good place
to feed the others swam around it and tried to get some of the food.

Robinson watched his chance and slipped his net under a group, while
each one was busy trying to get the best mouthful of mud. He drew up
three quite large fish, but just as he was about to lift them from the
water, one of the cords which bound the net to the poles broke and he
saw his catch fall back into the creek and dart away in the deepest
water. But Robinson was not to be discouraged. He soon mended his net
and at last was successful. In a short time he drew out another catch of
two fish.

These proved excellent food and were so abundant as to furnish Robinson
with all the fish he wanted as long as he stayed on the island.



Robinson had wished for a boat many times. He wished to explore the
shore of his island. He wanted to go clear around it so that he might
see it on every side. But he knew the work of making a boat would be
great, if not wholly impossible.

The shaping of boards to build a boat with his rude tools was not to be
thought of. He knew how the Indians made boats out of bark of trees. But
he saw that for his purpose so light a boat would not do. He finally
remembered a second Indian way of making a boat by hollowing out a large
log. The forest was full of the boles of trees that had been blown down.
But they were far away from the shore. At first he did not think of this
very much. He had overcome so many difficulties that he thought, "Never
mind, I will get my boat to water, no matter where I make it, in some
way." So he selected a tree trunk some distance from the bank of the
little creek near his cave and began work.

He had first to burn out his log the proper length and hack it into boat
shape with his stone tools. This was very slow and tedious work. He had
to handle the fire with great care for there was always the danger of
spoiling the shape of the slowly forming boat. Both ends must be
sharpened, but one more than the other to form the prow or forward going
end. After he had shaped his boat, he began hollowing it out. This he
did also by burning for the most part. He used the branches of pitch
bearing trees for this purpose. But it was so slow. He worked at his
boat all the time he could spare from his regular duties in attending to
his goats, his garden and his cave. He was always making his cave
larger. Every time he made a piece of furniture or stored away grain he
must make more room in his cave by digging away the earth and carrying
it out. He had made a large strong wicker basket for this purpose.

He had had a vague idea that when he got his boat done he would dig a
trench back from the bank of the creek and thus float his boat. But he
had not thought it out clearly. "Or anyway," he thought, "I can in some
way manage to roll it to the water." He must now actually plan to put
some of these ideas into effect. He first went over the ground and found
that to dig a trench from the water to the boat, so that the water would
come to the boat, he would have to dig it twenty feet deep. "I can never
do this," he said, "with my poor tools."

He next tried his rolling plan. But he had been so anxious to have a
large boat that he had overlooked everything else. Try as hard as he
might he could not stir his boat from the spot. After many trials with
the longest levers he could handle, the boat still stuck fast. It would
not budge an inch. He at last gave it up. "It will lie here," he
thought, "to remind me how foolish it is to attempt to do anything
without first having thought it out carefully."

There was nothing to do but to choose another tree trunk. This time he
selected a much smaller one, and one that lay at the top of the little
slope or incline from the bank of the creek. After another weary six
months of work he had his second boat ready for launching. With a good
stout lever he gave it a start, when it rolled quickly down into the
water. Robinson again wept for joy. Of all his projects this had cost
him the most work and pains and at last to see his plans successful
filled him with delight.

The next problem was how to make it go. He had no certain knowledge how
far it was around the island, but he knew it was farther than he wanted
to row or paddle his boat. Yet he knew from the way the wind blew that
he could not always depend upon a sail to help him. He must become
skillful in paddling his boat. A sail too would be very helpful at
times. He imagined how pleasant it would be sitting in the boat sailing
along with a gentle wind. "When the wind is favorable," he thought, "I
will only have to steer with my paddle."

So he set about weaving a sail of his sisal fibre. To do this he had to
make a much larger loom than he had yet used. His sail must be at least
four feet square. He was now so skilled in weaving that this was soon
finished. He then made plenty of string, cord, and rope, put in a mast
and was ready to sail. But he did not venture far away until he had
spent weeks and weeks in learning to steer, sail, and paddle his boat.



Ever since Robinson had finished his boat he had been eager to make a
tour of his island. He had indeed made a journey by land. But the deep
forests and tangled vines made it very difficult to travel. His journeys
had shown him but a small part of the land. He wished to know all about
the land of which he, so far as he knew, was the sole master.

His first care was to fit up his boat with provisions. He made some
large baskets in which to carry food and a large covered jar for water.
These he stored in the bow and the stern of his boat. He fastened his
parasol on the stern for a shelter from the sun. He baked up a quantity
of cakes or loaves of bread and packed them in his baskets. He had woven
these so carefully that they would almost hold water.

At last all was ready. It was on the sixth day of November in the sixth
year of his life on the island that Robinson hoisted his sail and set
out upon this voyage of discovery. He had waited until the wind was
gentle and blowing as far easterly as it does at that place. He scudded
along bravely, running with the land toward the East and North. All went
well until he came to a low reef or ledge of rocks running far out to
sea in a north-easterly direction.


When Robinson observed this he went on shore and climbed to a high point
to see if it was safe to venture. He was afraid of hidden currents, or
streams of water. These might carry him away from the shore and prevent
him from getting around the point.

He did indeed observe that there was a current running out to sea past
the ledge, but he thought he could by careful paddling keep his boat
from striking the rock. If he could once get beyond the ledge, the wind
would help him double or get around the point. Indeed the danger was
that the wind would blow him on to the rocks.

He waited for two days for a gentle wind. At last without sail he pushed
his boat into the current and was born swiftly seaward. He found the
current much stronger than he thought it would be. It rushed his frail
boat on past the point of the rocks and out into the sea. Try as best he
might he could not change its course. He was steadily going out to sea.
He gave himself up for lost. He reproached himself for being so rash and
foolhardy as to trust his fortunes in so frail a craft. How dear at this
time seemed the island to him! The wind which he had depended on to help
him at this point had died down so that it was at the mercy of the
current. He kept urging his boat to the westward as much as possible,
with all his strength, hoping that a breeze would finally spring up.

He struggled on bravely until about noon. He had been carried out a
great distance into the sea, but not so far as to lose sight of the
land. All at once he felt the breeze freshening up. It caught his sail
and soon his boat was cutting across the current. He did not have to go
far before he was free from it and making headway for the island, which
he reached about four o'clock in the afternoon.

He found himself on the northern shore of the island, but before long
the shore ran away to the southward again. He ran briskly along the west
side until he found a little bay or cove. He determined to enter this,
draw up his boat on shore and make his way back home across the island
on foot. He was almost exhausted with his great labor and was worn out
with anxiety.

In the centre of the arms of the cove he found a little creek entering
the sea. He paddled into this and found a good place to hide his boat.

As soon as Robinson was again on land he fell on his knees and with
tears in his eyes thanked God for his deliverance. The island which had
seemed to him a prison now seemed the fairest and dearest place in the

Having made his boat safe he started back toward his shelter. But he was
too tired to go far. He soon came to a little grove of trees beneath
which he laid himself down and soon was fast asleep.

You can imagine with what surprise Robinson was awakened out of his
sleep by a voice calling his name. "Robinson, Robinson Crusoe," it said,
"poor Robinson Crusoe! Where are you Robinson, where have you been?"


He was so fast asleep that he did not at first rouse up entirely and
thought he was dreaming. But the voice kept calling, "Robinson,
Robinson, poor Robinson Crusoe!" He was greatly frightened and started
up. But no sooner were his eyes opened than he saw his parrot sitting on
a branch of a tree. He knew at once the source of the voice.

Polly had missed her master and was also exploring the island. It was a
pleasant surprise. She immediately flew to him and lit on his shoulder.
She showed in many ways how glad she was to see him and kept saying,
"Poor Robinson, poor Robinson Crusoe!"

Robinson remained here over night and the next morning made his way back
to the shelter. Up to this time Robinson had never seen any dangerous
animals on the island. He had grown used to life there and went about
without fear of animals. But as he was returning across a little
opening, he saw a clump of palms in the centre of the opening, swaying
about. He did not at first see what caused this, but soon there was
thrust out the head of a great serpent. Its jaws were open and its eyes
were fixed on a poor terrified little rabbit. The rabbit seemed rooted
to the spot. It could not stir a muscle and was soon caught in the folds
of the great snake.

This sight made Robinson greatly afraid. He wanted to rush to the rescue
of the rabbit, but what could he do against such a foe? He resolved in
the future to keep a more careful watch and always to sleep in his

Robinson had enough of exploring for some time. He was contented to
remain at home. He made many things he needed. He had saved all the
skins of the goats he had killed for meat and all that had died from any
cause. These he made into rugs for his bed. He kept at his loom too, for
he was anxious to weave enough of his coarse cloth to make him a suit of
clothes. He learned how to braid mats and rugs out of his fibre, and
finally replaced his awkward hat and parasol with others braided very
skillfully from the long grasses that grew so abundantly in the marshy

Another thing that Robinson was now able to make or weave out of his
fibre was a hammock. He had slept all this time on a bed made of poles
laid lengthwise and thickly covered with the skins of goats and rabbits.

Now he could have a comfortable place to sleep. He did not stop until he
had made two. One was for the bower and the other was for use
out-of-doors. When his work was done in the evening or in the heat of
the midday he would lie in it at full length under the shade of the



Robinson could not forget his boat. It seemed a companion. "It may be
the means of my escape from this place," he thought. He took frequent
journeys across the island to where his little boat lay in the cove. He
would start out in the morning and walk over to the west side of the
island, take his boat and have a pleasant little sail. He always
returned home before dark, for to tell the truth, Robinson was a coward.
He was as timid as a hare. He was afraid of everything and spent many
nights without sleep because of fear.

It was while on one of his visits to his boat that Robinson made a
discovery that changed his whole life. It happened one day, about noon,
when he was going toward his boat that he, with great surprise, saw the
print of a man's naked foot on the shore in the sand. He stood like one
rooted to the ground. He could not move, so great was his surprise and
fear. He listened, looked around, but could hear and see nothing. He
went up to a little hill to look further but nothing was in sight.
There was but the one footprint. There was no doubt about it, there it
was, foot, toes, heel and every part of a foot. Robinson tried to think
how it might have gotten there, but he could not. It was a mystery. He
was greatly afraid and started at once for his shelter. He ran like one
pursued. At every little way he would look behind to see if anyone was
following him.

Never a frightened rabbit ran to his hiding place with more terror than
Robinson ran to his cave. He did not sleep that night for fear and
remained in his shelter for three days, never venturing out. But his
food was growing short and his goats needed to be milked. He finally
with a thousand wild fancies forced himself to go about his duties.

But he could not get the footprint out of his mind. He spent many sad
and fearful days thinking about it. "How could it have gotten there?
Whose was it? Was the owner savage or not? What did he want on the
island?" were some of the questions that haunted him.

"Perhaps," he thought one day, "I just imagined I saw a footprint, or
perhaps it was one of my own that I have made when going to sail my
boat." He took courage at this and began to go about the island again.
But he went in great fear, always looking behind him. He was always
ready to run at the first sign of danger. He had made himself a large,
strong, new bow and plenty of arrows. He carried these in a quiver he
had made from his cloth. He fashioned too a sharp-pointed, lance-like
weapon which he hurled with a kind of sling. In his belt he carried some
new sharpened stone knives. He had found a better kind of rock out of
which to make his knives. It resembled glass and could be brought to a
fine, keen edge.

Armed thus, he began to have more confidence. He had a strong desire to
see the footprint again and make up his mind about it. He wished to
measure it. In this way he could tell certainly whether it was a chance
print of his own foot or not. So, after a few days, he again ventured
across the island. Alas, on measuring the print it was much larger than
his own! There could no longer be any doubt that it belonged to someone

Again great fear fell on poor Robinson. He shook with cold and fright.
He resolved to make himself more secure against attack.

He cut and carried willow stakes and set them in a thick hedge around in
front of his shelter. This was outside the first and enclosed it. In a
season or two these had grown to such a height as to shut out all view
of his home from sight to one coming to it from the front.

His flock of goats gave him many troubled thoughts. His goats were his
greatest treasure. From them he obtained without trouble his meat, his
milk and butter.

"What if they were discovered and killed or carried away?" He resolved
to divide his herd into three parts and secrete these in separate fenced
pastures in different parts of the island. His herd of goats now
numbered twenty-five. He made thorough search about the island for the
most secluded and best hidden spots where he could fence in a pasture.

One day as he was exploring on the west side of the island to find
another open space for a goat field, he thought he spied away out to sea
a boat. He looked long and anxiously and yet he was not sure that it was
a boat he saw. But how easy, thought Robinson, for the people of the
mainland, which must be at no great distance to the westward, to come
across to this side of the island in fair weather. He thought too, how
fortunate he was to have been cast on the east side of the island. For
there he had his shelter in the very safest part.

As he was coming down from a hill where he had gone to get a better view
of the sea he made another discovery. About him everywhere at the foot
of the hill were bones of all kinds. Near by too, were charcoal and
ashes. There could be no mistake, the place was visited by human beings.
These were very likely savages. Everything showed that they came for the
purpose of feasting and not for plundering. It was very likely that they
neither sought anything on the island nor expected it.


This thought greatly relieved Robinson. He returned home in a very
thankful and composed state of mind. He had now been on the island
almost eighteen years and had not been discovered. Yet, no doubt, the
island had been visited many times by the savages since he had been

In a short time his fear of discovery wore off and he began to live just
as he did before his discovery.

He took, however, greater precaution against surprise. He always carried
his bow and arrows, his lance and knives. He was also very careful about
making a great smoke from his fire. He burned a great quantity of wood
in a pit and made charcoal. With this material he had a fine fire with a
very little smoke. Every day also he went to the top of the hill back of
his shelter in order to discover if possible the approach of savages.



Another year passed by, Robinson longed more and more to get away from
the island. Year after year he had hoped and watched in vain for a
passing ship. Every day he would scan the waters that held him prisoner
for the welcome sight of a sail. He had been disappointed. Now his only
hope was to escape to the mainland in some way. He feared the savages.
He had heard stories of their being cannibals. But if they could come to
his island in their canoes against the prevailing wind, why could he not
get to the mainland with it in his favor?

Strange as it may be, Robinson began to wish for the return of the
savages. He hoped to watch them at a distance and find out something
about their customs. More especially he wished that he might capture one
of them. He had two reasons for this. In the first place he would have a
companion. He pictured fondly how he would teach him gentle manners and
the English speech. And, too, the companion would be able to help him.
Besides this he longed above all to know more of the mainland and
whether it would be safe to go there. He wanted to find out in what kind
of boat they made the voyage. He thought that if he had such a person he
would have someone to show him the way to reach the land.

The more he thought, the more anxious he became to see the savages on
the island. He thought so much about it by day that he dreamed about it
at night. One night he dreamed that the savages came, drew their boats
upon the shore and began to prepare their feast. As he watched them one
of their number broke away from his fellows and came straight toward his
hiding-place. Robinson thought he rushed out, drove away those that
followed the fleeing man and rescued him. This dream made a deep
impression upon him and made him await the coming of the savages with
great hopes and eagerness.

It was more than eighteen months after he had formed this plan of
capturing one of the savages before the savages made their appearance.
Robinson was surprised one morning to see no less than five canoes drawn
up on the shore at a point on his side of the island about two miles
below his shelter, to the south. The people that had come in them were
on shore and out of sight. Robinson went back to his shelter to make his
plans. He made up his mind that he would be foolish to attack them.
There must be twenty-five or thirty of them. He finally went to a point
where he could see farther inland and soon caught sight of a crowd of
about thirty savages. They were naked and dancing around and around in a
circle. All the while they were singing and making hideous noises. There
was a fire in the center of the ring of savages. "They are cooking their
feast," thought Robinson. "Maybe I can surprise them while they eat and
rush in and seize one." But this seemed too great a risk to run. He had
no weapons but his bow and arrows, his lance and knife. What could he do
against so great a number?

But fortune favored his plans. As he gazed at them from his safe
distance he saw one of their number break away from the rest and run
with utmost speed directly toward his hiding-place. At once two other
savages pursued him. They had no weapons but clubs. They ran with great
swiftness, but the man in front was steadily gaining ground.

Robinson now to tell the truth was dreadfully frightened to see the
savage run directly toward him and his shelter. He kept his place,
however, and watched the race. The man running away ran along the shore
and would soon come to the little creek that emptied into the sea below
his home. Robinson saw that the savage would have to swim this to
escape. He ran down thither and concealed himself behind a tree and
waited for the fugitive to come up. As he did so, the fleeing savage
plunged in and swam across with a few strong strokes. When he was well
on the bank, Robinson presented himself and made signs to him to come to
him and he would help him. The savage was at first almost overcome with
astonishment and fright, for Robinson presented a very unusual sight.
The savage at once ran to him and fell down at his feet. Indeed so great
was his fright and distress that he placed one of Robinson's feet upon
his neck in sign that he yielded up his life into his hands. Robinson
raised him up and motioned for him to take the lance and help in defence
against the men, now coming up. They hid behind trees and waited for
them to swim across the stream. But this they did not do. When they
reached the creek, they could see nothing of their runaway. They very
slowly turned and went back to their companions.

Robinson was well content not to let them know that there was any one on
the island. He feared they might return and destroy his shelter and

Robinson took the savage to his shelter and gave him bread and raisins
to eat, and a cup of water to drink. He was very hungry and ate
greedily. After he had eaten, Robinson made signs for him to lie down
and sleep, for the Indian was nearly tired out with his long and swift

He was a handsome fellow of his race. His limbs were large, straight and
strong. He had a good face. His hair was long and black, his forehead
high, and his eyes bright. His skin was not black, but of an olive
color. His teeth were fine set and as white as ivory.

He slept about an hour; when he awoke he came running to Robinson and
again made signs to him that he was his slave. "You saved my life," he
seemed to say, "and now I will serve you." Robinson named him Friday at
once, for that was the day on which the great event of his escape had
taken place.

Robinson's next care was to fit him out with some clothing. He had by
this time several suits made of his coarse cloth. He soon had Friday
dressed in one of the old ones, with a straw or braided hat on his head.
He did not think it safe to allow Friday to sleep with him in the bower.
He made a little tent for him inside the enclosure. This was covered
with goatskins and made a very good protection from both heat and rain.

Robinson took care to keep all his knives and weapons near him in the
bower. But his fears that Friday might harm him were unfounded. Friday
from the first was faithful to his master. He was sweet and obedient in
all things. He seemed to look upon Robinson with the love of a child for
its father and never tired of serving him.



(From Robinson's Diary)

"I began to consider that having now two mouths to feed instead of one, I
must provide more ground for my harvest and plant a larger quantity of
corn than I used to plant. So I marked out a larger piece of land and
began to fence it in. Friday worked not only very willingly but very
hard. I told him that it was for corn to make more bread because he was
now with me. He let me know that he was grateful for my kindness and
would work much harder if I would tell him what to do.

"This was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.
Friday began to talk pretty well and understood the names of almost all
the things that I called for and of all the places which I wished to
send him. I was careful to teach him all the things I knew. I showed him
how to plant and harvest corn, how to gather fibre, spin yarn and to
weave it into cloth. He learned these things quickly and became very
skillful in making pots. He knew something about this because at home he
had seen the women make them. He ornamented them with figures of birds
and flowers. I taught him about the true God. But as for writing he
could never do much with this. I had no books and could not make him
understand the importance of writing. He began to talk a great deal to
me. This delighted me very much. I began to love him exceedingly. He was
so very honest and faithful.

"After I had taught him English I tried one day to find out whether he
had any wish to return to his own country and as I talked to him about
it I saw his face light up with joy and his eye sparkle. From this I had
no doubt but that Friday would like to be in his own country again. This
for a time made me sad, to think how eagerly he would leave me to be
among his savage friends. 'Do you not wish you were back in your own
country, Friday?' I said to him one day. 'Yes,' he said, 'I be much O
glad to be back in my country.' 'What would you do there,' said I?
'Would you turn wild again and do as the savages do?' He shook his head
and said very gravely, 'No, no, Friday tell them to live good. He tell
them to plant corn and live like white mans.'

"One day when we were on the top of a hill on the west side of the
island, Friday suddenly began to jump and dance about in great glee. I
asked him what the matter was. 'O, joy, O glad,' he said; 'there my
country!' The air was so clear that from this place, as I had before
discovered, land could be distinctly seen looking westward.

"I asked him how far it was from our island to his country and whether
their canoes were ever lost in coming and going. He said that there was
no danger. No canoes were ever wrecked and that it was easy to get back
and forth. I asked him many things about his people and country. He told
me that away to the west of his country there lived 'white mans like
you.' I thought these must be the people of Central America, and asked
him how I might come from this island and get among these white men. He
made me understand that I must have a large boat as big as two canoes.

"I resolved at once to begin to make a boat large enough for us to pass
over to the land we could see lying to the west and if possible to go on
to the white man's country Friday told me about. It took us nearly two
months to make our boat and rig her out with sails, masts, rudder, and
anchor. We had to weave our sails and twist our rope. We burned out the
canoe from a large fallen log. We used a great stone tied securely to
the end of a strong rope for an anchor.


"When we had the boat in the water, Friday showed great skill in rowing
or paddling it. He had managed boats ever since he was old enough, but
he did not know how to handle a sail or rudder. He learned very quickly,
however, to sail and steer the boat and soon was perfectly at home in

"We made our boat safe by keeping it in the little cove at the mouth of
the creek. I had Friday to fetch rocks and build a dock or place for
landing. But the rainy season was now coming on and we must wait for
fair weather. In the meantime I planned to lay by such quantities of
food as we would need to take along."



One evening Robinson sat in his shelter thinking of his plans to escape
to Friday's country. He was sad. For, after all, this place was very
dear to him. It was the only home he had. Had he not made everything
with his own hands? It was doubly dear to him on this account. He
thought how it would grieve him to leave his goats, his fields, and the
many comforts he had here.

He had been telling Friday of his home in New York. He told him of the
great city, and of its many wonderful sights. He told him of his country
and people, of his flag and its history. All these things brought back
memories of his boyhood and he wondered what changes had come in his
long absence. Friday, with wonderful intelligence, listened to all
Robinson told him. He was delighted in hearing Robinson tell of the
wonders of the great world, for he had never known anything about it. As
they talked Robinson noticed the approach of a storm. The sky was
getting black with clouds. The winds were blowing a hurricane. The waves
were coming in mountain high. It reminded him of the eventful night now
twenty-five years ago when his ship was tossed up on the shore like an
egg shell and broken to pieces.

Suddenly there was a sound that made Robinson start from his seat with
the wildest alarm. Was it the sound of a cannon from the ocean or the
terrible crash and roar of the water on the rocks of the coast? There it
is again; it is a cannon! Some ship is in distress! This is its signal!
Robinson ran out and down to the shore with Friday at his heels.

"O master!" said Friday, "can we not help? If they only knew the island
was here and how to steer into the harbor beyond the point of land on
the south."

Robinson was so excited that he scarcely knew what he was doing. He ran
up and down the shore calling wildly, but the awful roar of the sea and
wind drowned his cries. Suddenly his thoughts came to him. "Quick,
Friday, get some fire in a pot. We will run to the point, gather grass
and wood, and make a fire there. Maybe we can guide them into the

They soon had a great beacon light sending its welcome greeting far over
the sea. The pilot of the ship saw it and steered his ship nearer and
nearer. Robinson was ready to shout for joy as the ship seemed about to
make the harbor. The ship had her sails torn in shreds and her rudder
broken. It was hard to steer her in such a gale. On rounding the point,
she was blown on the rocks. With a frightful crash which could be heard
above the din of the storm she struck and held fast. Robinson could hear
the cries of the men and the orders of the officers. They were trying to
get boats ready to put off, but such was the confusion of the storm and
the enormous waves breaking over the deck that it could not be done
quickly. Before the men could get a boat into the sea, and get into it,
the ship gave a lurch to one side as though about to sink. All the men
jumped for one boat. It was overburdened. The wind tossed it about. The
sea soon filled it and it went down and all were lost.

Robinson and Friday remained on the shore all night. They watched to see
if they could not help some poor sailor that might cling to a plank and
be blown on shore. They saw no one.

At last they lay down, but they could not sleep. Many times they sprang
up and ran about for fear that some poor fellow would need their help.
At last morning came. The storm ceased. Robinson and Friday searched
everywhere for the bodies of the sailors, but could find none. But the
wind had blown the ship in plain view, and into shallow waters. It was
lying on the bottom with more than half its bulk out of the water. The
masts were gone. It was a sad sight. No human being could be seen on it.

They were now rejoiced that they had their boat ready. "Let us take it,"
said Robinson "and go out to the ship. It may be some person is still on
the unfortunate ship." They were soon by the ship's side. They rowed
around it until they saw a rope hanging down from the deck. Robinson
seized this and clambered up. Friday tied the boat fast, and followed.
Robinson opened the door leading from the deck into the ship and went
down. He searched in all the cabins, and knocked at all the doors. He
called, but all was still. When he was satisfied that every person on
board had been drowned he wept bitterly.

Friday stood there with open and staring eyes. He looked and looked. He
was astonished at the large ship and at the wonderful things before him.
They were in the cabin where the passengers had been. There stood
trunks under the benches and clothes hung on the hooks on the wall. One
trunk was open. In it were telescopes through which the travelers had
looked at the land. Robinson saw also paper, pens, pen-holders and ink.
Books were also near by. Robinson first took a thick book. It was the
Bible, out of which his mother had so often taught him. Then they came
to the sailors' cabin. There hung muskets and swords and bags of shot
and cartridges. Then they went to the work-room. There were saws,
hammers, spades, shovels, chisels, nails, bottles, and pails, knives and
forks. And something more, over which Robinson was most glad, matches.
At last they came into the store-room. There lay bags of flour and
barley, teas, lentils, beans and sugar. Then Robinson embraced Friday in
his great joy and said to him, "How rich we are!"



After Robinson had looked through the ship he began to plan the way to
get the tools and things he most wanted on shore. He and Friday first
carried everything together that he wanted to take on shore. When they
had done this, he found he had the following things. Robinson stood
everything together that he needed most.

    1. A case of nails and screws.
    2. Two iron axes and several hatchets.
    3. A saw.
    4. A small case of planes, tongs, augers, files, chisels, etc.
    5. A third case with iron brackets, hooks, hinges, etc.
    6. A case of matches.
    7. A barrel of gunpowder.
    8. Two muskets and a pistol.
    9. Several swords.
    10. A bag of cartridges.
    11. A large sail cloth and some rope.
    12. A telescope.

By means of the ship's ropes, Robinson let everything down into his
boat. He himself took the Bible and then they rowed to the shore, and
unloaded the boat. Everything was put into the bower where rain could
not harm it. By the time they had this done, night was coming on and
they decided to do no more that day, but wait until the next day.

"We must work fast," said Robinson. "The first storm is likely to break
the ship in pieces and destroy everything in it."

The next morning early they ate a hastily prepared breakfast and were
off to the boat. Neither Robinson nor Friday stopped for their noonday
lunch. "A storm is brewing," said Robinson, "the air is calm, the sky is
overcast with clouds, the heat is oppressive. We must hurry." With the
utmost diligence they rowed back and forth all day. They made nine
trips. They had now on shore a surprising quantity of all kinds of
tools, goods and weapons. They had all kinds of ware to use in the
kitchen, clothes, and food. Robinson prized a little four-wheeled wagon
and a whetstone.

But in looking over his stores, Robinson suddenly discovered that he had
no needles or thread. They went at once to procure these important
articles. In looking for needles and thread, Robinson found a small
trunk full of money and valuable stones. There were diamonds, rubies,
pearls, and much gold. Robinson pushed it to one side. "What can I do
with riches on this island? I would give them all for some needles and
thread," he said to Friday. But on second thought he took the trunk and
its contents along with him to his cave. For in the trunk were also
letters and writings. "Perhaps," he said, "these tell to whom the
valuables belong and I can return them some time."

Robinson at last found a case containing everything one could need with
which to cut and sew cloth. There were scissors, thread, needles,
thimbles, tapes, and buttons. But now the wind was rising and they must
hurry. They were nearly ready for departure. They were passing through a
part of the ship not before visited. They were surprised to hear a sound
coming from a room whose door was kept shut by a heap of stuff that had
been thrown against it by the violent pitching of the ship in the storm.
Robinson and Friday cleared away the rubbish and were surprised to find
a dog almost drowned. He was so weak from want of food that his cries
could be heard a short distance only. Robinson took him tenderly in his
arms and carried him to the boat, while Friday carried the sewing case
and the trunk.

The wind was now blowing a gale. A few yards from the ship they were in
great danger. Robinson grasped the rudder and made Friday stand ready to
cut away the mast in case they found the wind too strong. With the
greatest difficulty they finally made the little cove at the mouth of
the creek and were soon landed with their precious cargo. The next
morning they eagerly searched the waters for the ship. Not even their
field glasses could reveal anything of it. Some planks, a mast, and
parts of a small boat were blown on shore. All else had disappeared.

Robinson set to work at once to make a door for his bower out of the
pine wood cast up by the waves. How easy the work proceeded with saws,
hammers, augers, squares, planes, nails, hinges, and screws! With the
wagon too, Friday could now gather his corn quickly and easily, or haul
in a great quantity of grapes to dry for raisins.

Friday had never seen a gun. He did not know the use of firearms. The
muskets that Robinson had brought from the ship were a great mystery to
him. Robinson showed him their use. He showed how they could defend
themselves. He told Friday that these weapons would kill at a distance.
He took some powder and touched a match to it. Friday was greatly


Robinson then proceeded to load the gun. He put in some powder, a ball
of lead or bullet. Then at the hammer he placed a little cap which gave
a flash when struck. This ignited the powder. When all was in readiness
Robinson bade Friday follow him. They went slowly out into the forest
along the stream. Soon Robinson espied a rabbit sitting under a clump of
grass. Robinson raised his gun, took careful aim, pressed the trigger.
There was a flash and loud report and there lay the rabbit dead. But
Friday, too, was lying on the ground. He had fainted from astonishment
and fright. Robinson dropped his gun and raised the poor fellow up to a
sitting position. He quickly recovered. He ran to get the rabbit. He
examined it carefully. Robinson at last pointed out the hole the bullet
had made and the mystery of the way the rabbit was killed was solved.

Robinson had lived alone so long that he had learned to love every
living creature on the island. He never harmed anything except when he
needed food. He had lived so quietly that the birds and animals did not
fear him. They lived near his shelter and seemed to know him.

Robinson was delighted with his new tools and weapons. But they reminded
him of home. Nothing that he had seen in all the time he had been on the
island so turned his thoughts toward home and friends. Robinson would
sit for hours thinking of the past and making plans for the future. He
was homesick.



Robinson now renewed his plans for escaping from the island to Friday's
country. They first rebuilt their boat with their new tools. They
hollowed out the center till the sides were thin toward the top. They
shaped her sides and keel. They made her prow sharp so that she would
cut the water easily. They made a new mast, strong and tall and shapely.
They made larger and stronger sails and ropes. They made two pairs of
extra oars. They made boxes and cupboards in the prow and stern for
keeping their fresh water and provisions. Friday's eyes sparkled with
joy when it was done. He hoped he would now be able to return to his own
island and parents. Robinson noticed his joy and asked him, "Do you want
to return to your own people?"

"Yes," said Friday, "very much."

"Would you trust yourself in this boat?"

"Yes," said Friday.

"Very well," said his master, "you may have it and start home when you
please." "Yes, Master, but you come too, my people will not hurt you."
Robinson resolved to venture over to Friday's land with him.

But before their preparations were complete the rainy season of our fall
set in. They resolved to wait until the weather was settled and as soon
as the rainy season was over to set out. They ran their boat well up
into the creek and covered it over with a large tarpaulin made of
sail-cloth obtained from the ship.

Robinson had now been on the island twenty-seven years. For the last
three years he had lived happily with his companion Friday. Every year
in September, Robinson celebrated the day his life was saved and he was
thrown up on the island. Robinson celebrated it this year with more than
the usual thankfulness. He thought that it would be his last anniversary
on the island.

One morning, Friday had gone to the beach to find a turtle. Soon he came
running back out of breath. "O Master," he cried, "they are coming, they
are coming to take me prisoner!" He was trembling with fright.

"We must take our guns and defend ourselves," said Robinson. "But we
will not kill anyone unless they attack us." This quieted Friday. They
loaded four muskets and three pistols. Robinson put the pistols in his
belt, where he also fastened a sword. He gave Friday a pistol and a
musket, for Friday had learned to shoot well. Besides Friday carried a
bag of powder and bullets. Robinson took his field glasses and saw
twenty-one savages with two prisoners. The prisoners were bound and
lying on the ground. This was a war party celebrating a victory with a
feast. They probably intended to kill their prisoners. "We must save the
lives of those men," said Robinson.

The savages this time had landed quite near Robinson's shelter, not more
than a half mile below the creek's mouth. Soon he and Friday started
off. Robinson commanded Friday to follow quietly and not to speak or

"We will surprise them and give them a good scare," said Robinson.

When yet a considerable distance away they could hear the savages
yelling and screaming. Some of them were dancing their war dance. Their
faces and bodies were painted to make them look terrible to their
enemies. They were dancing around their prisoners with hideous cries and
gestures. They could now see the prisoners plainly. One had a beard and
was plainly a white man. Robinson was surprised and determined to save
him at all risks.

"Get your gun ready to fire," he said to Friday, "and when I say the
word let us run forward yelling and firing our guns over their heads.
This will fill them with such fright that they will take to their heels
and boats and get away as soon as possible. In the scramble and
confusion we will rush in and rescue the prisoners."

This plan did not please Friday at all. His savage blood was up and he
wanted to kill all he could. "Let's fire on them," he said. "Let's kill
all but the prisoners."

"No, no," said Robinson, "it's always wrong to take life unless it
cannot be avoided to save one's own. Let's try my plan first."

With great reluctance Friday consented. At a signal from Robinson they
rushed forward, and when in plain sight they fired off their muskets in
the air. If the ground had suddenly exploded beneath their feet there
could have been no more confusion, astonishment, and fright. A few took
to their heels. Others lay as if dead. They had swooned from fright. But
as Robinson came up they jumped to their feet and pushed into the boats,
leaving the prisoners behind. Robinson and Friday still rushed forward
and fired their remaining loaded guns and pistols in the air. The
savages made all haste to get into their boats and push off. Soon they
were well out to sea, paddling rapidly for the west. Robinson reloaded
his arms and gave them a farewell volley, but not a soul was killed or
even wounded. This gave Robinson great pleasure. He had accomplished his
purpose without bloodshed.

They could now turn to the prisoners. Robinson ran back to them and
quickly cut their ropes. Robinson asked the white man who he was, but
the man was too weak to answer. Robinson gave him a piece of bread.

The fear of death being removed, the white man soon grew stronger. When
Friday came running back from watching the boats and saw the savage that
had been a prisoner he gave a loud yell. He threw his arms around the
man, kissed him and laughed and cried for joy. He put his head on his
breast and hugged him again and again. Robinson was greatly surprised
and puzzled. He asked Friday what his actions meant. But so intent was
Friday that he got no answer.

At last Friday recovered far enough from his great joy to say with face
beaming with delight, "O, Master, this man is my dear father." They at
once began a long conversation, each one told his story. Suddenly Friday
jumped up and said, "How foolish I am, I have not thought to give my
father anything to eat and drink. He must be nearly starved." And away
he ran toward the shelter and was soon back with food and water to


Robinson learned through Friday from his father that the white man was a
Spaniard, that he had been captured by the tribe that had a battle with
Friday's people. The Spaniard was one of sixteen men that had been saved
by Friday's people from a wrecked ship. So weak were the prisoners that
they could not walk to the shelter. Robinson and Friday made a litter
and carried them one after the other. When once there, Friday prepared
some rich rice soup. The prisoners ate heartily and in a few days were
strong enough to go about the island.



Friday had not forgotten the plan for going to his home. He would often
mention it and spent hours talking about it during the long rainy
season. But now that the Spaniard and Friday's father had come into the
family, Robinson felt he must change his plans a little. He felt very
sorry for the Spaniards left in Friday's country. They did not have
enough to eat and were sick and sad besides. He talked the matter over
with the Spaniard many times. They at last planned to send for them. The
Spaniard and Friday's father were to go. Robinson was for doing it at
once. But the Spaniard advised delay. "How can we get food for ourselves
and fifteen others? Your small store will soon be used up," he argued.
Robinson at last saw that this difficulty must be overcome. There was
just one thing to do, and this, to delay their departure until a new
crop of corn could be raised. This would take six months.

But at it they went. The four men could do much and work fast. They
cleared more ground and planted all the seed corn they could spare from
their store. Besides this they sowed about twelve bushels of barley they
had gotten in the ship.

The care for so much crop, its harvesting and storing away, kept them
very busy for the season. Robinson not only did this, but also increased
his flock of goats by catching kids and putting them in his pasture. He
gathered, too, all the grapes he could and dried them on the branches of

At the end of the harvesting season, they made ready their boat. They
filled it with all the bread it could well carry. They put in raisins
and fresh water. Robinson gave the Spaniard and Friday's father each a
musket and plenty of powder and bullets. Now, all was ready. Friday gave
his father a loving farewell. He stretched out his arms towards him as
the boat moved away. The Spaniard and Robinson waved their hats and they
were off.

They promised to be back in eight or nine days. Robinson and Friday made
every preparation to receive the guests. They were to have a home not
far from Robinson's built of poles, and thatched with the long marsh
grasses, like Robinson's bower. There was no need of hiding or
defending it. It did not take long to fix it up.

Eight days had now passed since the boat had left. Friday could hardly
restrain himself longer. He watched the ocean all the time. He would go
to the top of the hill with the field glasses every hour during the day
to catch a first glimpse of them.


On the ninth day, as Friday put up his glasses to search the waters he
dropped them with a yell of surprise. He tore down the hill with the
utmost speed and rushed up to Robinson as one gone mad. "Look, look, O
Master!" he cried, "a big ship; a big ship way out on the sea!" Robinson
took the glasses, and sure enough, there within hailing distance was a
large ocean going vessel. Robinson was overcome with excitement.

For twenty-eight years his aching eyes had scanned the waters for this
welcome sight. His joy was boundless. The ship looked like an American.
Yes, there floated the American flag! How welcome a sight to Robinson.
He could not utter a word. Tears filled his eyes and streamed down his
cheeks. He would soon have news from home. He ran to the shore and shot
off a gun to attract the attention of those on board. He heard answering
shots at once.

Soon a boat was lowered and in it three men rowed toward the shore. It
was the captain himself and two sailors. The captain was astonished to
find a man in the lonely island. Robinson told how it all had happened
and how he would like to return home. To his unspeakable delight the
captain told him that the ship was bound for New York and would take him
along free of charge, but he must leave that day. The ship could not be
delayed any longer. Of course Robinson would go. Friday was beside
himself with grief. He did not want to be left behind alone. He did not
know that the Spaniards would ever return. Something might happen to
them on the sea. But before the eventful day the Spaniards landed. They
brought word that Friday's father had died after his return home. Friday
was thrown into a fit of grief at the news. He wept and repeated over
and over his praise of the good man.



It was with a sad heart that Robinson made ready to leave. Every
familiar place seemed now doubly dear to him. He went from one to
another with tears in his eyes. Here lay his home. Here were his fields,
his crops and his goats. Everything was the work of his own hands. He
had made them all. Which should he take? He hesitated long. He must take
home some of his belongings to show the people at home. And there were
his parrot and the dog which had won a place in Robinson's heart. He
decided to take them along. At length he got together his diary, his
parasol, his Bible, his treasures, a suit of clothes, his dog, and a
hat. He had saved, too, his bow and arrows. These he decided to take
along. Everything else he gave to his good man Friday and the Spaniard
who wished to be allowed to remain on the island.


Robinson kissed Friday tenderly. He with great effort finally tore
himself away and ran to the shore where the ship's boat awaited him. But
Robinson had not counted on the strength of Friday's love for him.
Robinson's boat had not yet reached the ship when Friday sprang into the
water and swam after him shouting, "Master, take me with you, I would
rather die than stay here without you." Robinson was touched at the
devotion showed by the faithful Friday, and gave orders to turn the
boat back, and take him on board. The anchor was raised. The ship
started on her way to the home Robinson had left so long ago.

The wind was favorable and in seven weeks the spires and buildings of
his native city were in sight. His vessel came slowly up to the wharf
where he had taken ship so many years ago. Here, too, he had played and
idled his time away. He remembered it all. His idleness and playing
truant came back in sad memories. Before Robinson and Friday landed,
their good friend the captain gave them each a new suit of clothes.

Everything had changed. He scarcely knew the place. He was astonished
and confused by the din, hurry and bustle of a great city. Friday seemed
dazed by it all and clung to Robinson's side. The buildings were so
tall, the street cars, the carriages were different. Everywhere there
were iron machines, casting out smoke, puffing and running about on iron
rails. Robinson had never seen these.

Robinson, however, did not stop to admire; he pushed on to a certain
street and house where lived his parents at the time of his departure.
It was with difficulty that he found the place. It was now in the heart
of the city. Upon inquiry he found, after much searching, that his
father had removed his store and home to another part of the city, his
mother had died of grief for her disobedient son. Robinson was sorely
grieved at this. He had hoped to see her and tell her how sorry he was
that he had caused her so much anxiety and sorrow.

When he had found the place where his father lived he stole quietly up
to the house and opened the door. His father, now a gray-haired man,
bent with age and sorrow, was sitting in his arm-chair reading.

Robinson came forward, but his father did not recognize him. "Who are
you?" he said. "I am Robinson, your long-lost son." He knelt by his
father's side and asked forgiveness for all the trouble he had caused.
His father was overcome. He could not speak. He drew Robinson with
feeble hands to his breast. "My son, I forgive you," he said.

Robinson's boyhood friends heard of his strange return. They had thought
him dead long ago. They never tired of hearing him tell his strange
story. They pitied him in his misfortune. But Robinson told them that it
all happened to him because he was idle and disobedient in his youth.

Robinson at once relieved his father at the store. The business
thrived. His father died. He soon had a home of his own with a happy
family. Friday, the dog, and the parrot lived in it, dearly beloved and
cared for by their master the rest of their days. In the home there is a
young Robinson who loves to hear his father read from his diary of the
wonderful things that happened on the island.

Robinson tried many times to find the rightful owner of the gold and
jewels, but never succeeded. At last he gave them to a school where boys
with idle habits were taught to lead useful and industrious lives.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "An American Robinson Crusoe - for American Boys and Girls" ***

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