“Now, Trip, we have arrived at our future home. We must go to work
and put things to rights,” said Robert, as he released the dog, and
fastened the raft to a tree.
Trip wagged his tail, and jumped upon the land, as though he entered
heartily into the spirit of the adventure. But I think if Trip could
have spoken, and had had the courage to utter his whole mind, he would
have said,--
“Young master, you are a fool. What do you want to come here for, where
there isn’t any body or any thing? You were a great deal better off at
home, and I think you are a real silly fellow.”
But as Trip could not speak, he didn’t say a word; and I am afraid his
actions did not express his real feelings, for he looked happy and
contented.
Robert’s first step after he landed was to explore the island, just
as Robinson Crusoe, Senior, had done his domain. He pushed his way,
followed by Trip, through the bushes that covered the island. He
wanted to find a cave; but there was not even a rock to be found.
“Well, Trip, I don’t see what we shall do for a house,” said he, when
he returned to the landing-place. “There is, certainly, no cave here.
What shall we do, Trip?”
The dog wagged his tail, and barked, as though he understood the
question; but he did not mention any way to overcome the difficulty.
Instead of trying to help his master to a plan, he leaped upon the
raft, and seated himself on the box.
I dare say this was Trip’s notion of their next move,--that Robert
should get upon the raft, and make his way home as fast as he could.
“We won’t do any thing of the sort, Trip. Do you think I’m going home
again? No, sir. I’m Robinson Crusoe, Jr.”
“Bow, wow,” replied Trip; which, being interpreted, undoubtedly meant,
“Do come along, master. Let us go home.”
“No, you don’t,” said Robert. “Wouldn’t the fellows laugh at me if they
should find me coming back now! I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Trip. We
can take the boards in the raft and use them to build a house. That is
just the idea. We won’t stop to think about it, either, but go to work,
and do the job at once, for we want the house to sleep in to-night.”
Robert then carried the box and the various articles with which the
raft was loaded to the shore, and placed them near the spot where he
intended to build his house.
This was just the kind of work that pleased Robert, and he was as much
excited as though he were going to Europe, or to do some other great
thing. Throwing off his coat, he seized the hatchet and went to work
with a zeal that promised soon to give him a house.
The raft was torn in pieces, and the boards and timbers of which it
was made carried to the site of the new dwelling. Robert had hardly
finished this part of the job, before a thought struck him.
At the most, his stock of food would not last him more than two or
three days; and in his survey of the island he had seen neither grapes
nor berries, upon which he had expected to live when the crackers and
gingerbread were all gone.
As this thought struck him, he sat down upon the ground, and began
to look quite sad. He had destroyed the raft, which it had taken him
two days to build. He was acting like a man who locks himself into a
prison, and then throws the key out the window.
“I don’t know but we are getting into a bad scrape, Trip,” said he, as
the dog seated himself in front of him, and looked up into his face as
if to ask him what he meant to do next.
Trip wagged his tail, and did not seem to be at all concerned about the
future. No doubt he felt able to swim to the main shore.
“But I’m not going to back out now, I can tell you, Trip. I’m going to
have a time of it, any how. When I get back, if I ever do go back, I
want to tell the fellows I enjoyed it first rate, and then they can’t
laugh at me.”
It was now nearly noon, and he decided to dine before he began to work
on the house. Opening the box, he took out some crackers and cheese;
and while he ate himself, he gave Trip his full share. Robert had
worked hard, and was very hungry; and Trip, like any other dog, was
always hungry. The dinner they ate, therefore, made a large hole in the
stock of food.
After the meal, they went down to the bank to take a drink. Robert took
up a dipper of water, and tried to drink it, but it was so brackish
that a very little satisfied him.
By this time he had begun to feel some of the hardships of Crusoe
life. Crackers and cheese were not very dainty fare to a boy who had
been used to living upon beefsteak and hot biscuit; and river water was
not at all like tea and coffee, or even the water of his father’s well.
In spite of these difficulties, Robert went to work like a hero, and by
sunset, he had finished his house so far as he could, for his stock
of boards fell short when he had covered the top and one side of the
dwelling.
While he was so busy he had not kept watch of Trip, and the glutton had
gone to the box in which the gingerbread and crackers were kept, and
eaten all he could of them. What he could not eat, he had munched up,
till a decent pig would have refused to touch it.
“Trip, Trip. Come here, Trip, you rascal,” cried Robert, angry enough
to kill the dog, if he had been near.
Trip did not answer to the call; in fact, after he had eaten all he
could, he quietly slipped into the water and swam to the main shore.
Robert sat down, and actually wept with vexation. Every thing was
spoiled by the unfeeling conduct on the part of Trip. There was not
even enough for his supper left, though his hunger made him partake of
some of the cleanest of the mess.
The sun set, and the darkness gathered around him. He now crawled into
his new house, and rolled himself up in his blanket; but it was very
gloomy, and he was cold and tired. How different from his father’s
kitchen!
Robert began to think what a fool he was, and wished himself at home
with all his heart. He wondered what his sister thought had become of
him. Of course she had missed him before this time, and very likely she
was then searching for him in the village. Perhaps the people would
make just such a fuss as they did when Frank Lee was lost.
He had not thought of this before, and he felt sorry that he had caused
his sister so much pain and anxiety as his absence would occasion.
As he shivered with cold, he came to the conclusion that it was not so
pleasant, after all, to be a Robinson Crusoe. The book was all very
well as a story, but it was not the life he cared to live.
He was so cold, he could not go to sleep. I suppose some of the boys
who read this will ask why he did not make a fire. There was a very
good reason. He had put a bunch of matches into his pocket in the
morning, but when he fell into the water they had been completely
soaked, and not one of them would “go.”
Hour after hour he lay there, shivering and weeping, till at last he
fell asleep, so worn out that he could endure no more. Do you suppose
he dreamed of Crusoe in his cave, with his dog and his parrot?
It is more likely that he dreamed of his warm bed at home; of hot
biscuit and new milk, of apple pie and doughnuts. But after he had
slept an hour or two, he was awakened by loud calls on the pond.
He was terrified by the sounds, and perhaps thought, at first, that the
savages were coming to have a feast on the island; but I am sure he had
no wish to procure a Man Friday from their number.
The noise was made by a party who were searching for the young Crusoe.
For several hours the fears of his sister had filled her with agony.
Some one told her that her brother had been making a raft, and she
called upon the neighbors to explore the river.
She feared that he had been drowned, for no one thought of such a thing
as that he had turned Crusoe. It was possible he had gone ashore, and
got lost; so the people took boats and went down the river, searching
closely on their way.
They were looking for the raft, and had been down to the dam below
without finding it. On their way down they had shouted all the time;
but Robert slept so soundly that he did not hear them.
On their return they went nearer to the island, and their cries had
roused him from his uneasy slumber. Robert heard them call his name,
and his fears vanished.
“Halloo!” he shouted in reply.
“Where are you?” asked one of the men in the boat.
“On the island.”
In a moment more, the boat touched the shore, where Robinson Crusoe,
Jr., shivering with cold, was waiting for them.
“What in the world are you doing here? Where is your raft?” asked Mr.
Green, who was in the boat.
“I pulled it to pieces, for I meant to stay here and be a Robinson
Crusoe,” answered Robert.
The men laughed at the idea, and Robert began to cry again. Finding
that Crusoe felt badly, Mr. Green told the men not to laugh at him. So
they wrapped him up in his blankets, and taking the rest of his things
into the boat, they rowed back to Riverdale.
Robert’s sister was glad enough to see him, so she did not scold him
much; but for a long time afterwards the boys in the village called him
Robinson Crusoe, Jr.
He never wanted to live on a desolate island again, and said no more
about trying to catch a Man Friday. On the contrary, the adventure
caused him to love his parents and his home more than ever before.
[Illustration]