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.
[Illustration: ROBINSON'S TOOLS FOR MAKING FIRE]
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."