Crusoe in New York, and other talesHale, Edward Everett
General
Crusoe in New York, and other tales
Hale, Edward Everett
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
I carried home the little bag, and told my mother that this was a
birthday present for her; indeed, that she was to put it all in her bed
that night, that she might say she had rolled in gold and silver. She
played with the pieces, and we used them to count with, as we played
our game of cribbage.
"But really, Robin, boy," said she, "it is as the dirt under our feet.
I would give it all for three or four pairs of shoes and stockings,
such as we used to buy in York, but such as these Lynn-built shoes
and steam-knit stockings have driven out of the market."
Indeed, we wanted very little in our desert home.
And so for many years we led a happy life, and we found more in life
than would have been possible had we been all tangled up with the cords
of artificial society. I say "we," for I am sure I did, and I think my
dear mother did.
But it was in the seventh year of our residence in the hut that of a
sudden I had a terrible shock or fright, and this I must now describe
to you. It comes in about the middle of this history, and it may end
this chapter.
It was one Sunday afternoon, when I had taken the fancy, as I often did
of Sundays, to inspect my empire. Of course, in a certain way, I did
this every time I climbed old Van der Tromp's pear-tree, and sat in my
hawk's-nest there. But a tour of inspection was a different thing. I
walked close round the path which I had made next the fence of the
inclosure. I went in among my goats,--even entered the goat-house and
played with my kids. I tried the boards of the fence and the
timber-stays, to be sure they all were sound. I had paths enough
between the rows of corn and potatoes to make a journey of three miles
and half a furlong, with two rods more, if I went through the whole of
them. So at half-past four on this fatal afternoon I bade my mother
good-by, and kissed her. I told her I should not be back for two hours,
because I was going to inspect my empire, and I set out happily.
But in less than an hour--I can see the face of the clock now: it was
twenty-two minutes after five--I flung myself in my chair, panting for
breath, and, as my mother said, as pale as if I had seen a ghost. But I
told her it was worse than that.
I had come out from between two high rows of corn, which wholly covered
me, upon a little patch which lay warm to the south and west, where I
had some melons a-ripening, and was just lifting one of the melons, to
be sure that the under surface did not rot, when close behind it I saw
the print of a man's foot, which was very plain to be seen in the soft
soil.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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