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.
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