"I must find me a better bed," was his first clear thought.
[Illustration]
IX
ROBINSON'S SHELTER
Robinson saw at a little distance what seemed to be a cleft or an
opening in a huge rock. "If I could only get inside and find room to
stay over night. The rock would protect me from rain, from the wind
and wild animals better than a tree."
He long sought in vain for a place wide enough to allow him to get
into the opening in the rock. He was about to give up, when he seized
hold of a branch of a thorn tree growing on the side of the rock. He
looked closer and saw that it grew out of the cleft in the rock. He
saw, too, that at this point the opening was wider and that he had
only to remove the tree in order to get in. "The hole shall be my
dwelling," he said. "I must get the thorn tree out so that I can have
room."
That was easily said. He had neither axe nor saw, nor knife nor spade.
How could he do it? He had nothing but his hands. He tried to pull
it out by the roots, but in vain. He wasn't strong enough.
"I must dig it out," said Robinson.
He scratched with his nails, but the earth was too hard. What should
he do? He sought a stick with a fork in it and dug in the earth, but
it was slow work. Then he found a clamshell. He did better with it,
but it was hard work, and Robinson was not used to hard work. The
sweat ran down his face and he had often to stop and rest in the
shade.
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