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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. 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."
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Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis
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