The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert IslandWyss, Johann David
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The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert Island
Wyss, Johann David
Family life -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Survival -- Fiction
"Think a little," I replied, "you are quite as capable as I am of
finding out the way, even if you do not know the real reason of your
failure."
"Oh, of course," said he, "it is like trying to suck marrow from a
marrow-bone, without making a hole at the other end."
"Quite right," I said, "you form a vacuum in your mouth and the end of
your tube, and expect the air to force down the liquid from the other
end which it cannot possibly enter."
Fritz was speedily perfect in the accomplishment of sucking sugar-cane,
discovering by experience the necessity for a fresh cut at each joint or
knot in the cane, through which the juice would not flow; he talked of
the pleasure of initiating his brothers in the art, and of how Ernest
would enjoy the cocoanut milk, with which he had filled his flask.
"My dear boy," said I, "you need not have added that to your load; the
chances are it is vinegar by the time we get home. In the heat of the
sun, it will ferment soon after being drawn from the nut."
"Vinegar! Oh, that would be a horrid bore! I must look directly, and see
how it is getting on," cried Fritz, hastily swinging the flask from his
shoulder, and tugging out the cork. With a loud "pop" the contents came
forth, foaming like champagne.
"There now!" said I, laughing as he tasted this new luxury, "you will
have to exercise moderation again, friend Fritz! I daresay it is
delicious, but it will go to your head, if you venture deep into your
flask."
"My dear father, you cannot think how good it is! Do take some. Vinegar,
indeed! This is like excellent wine."
We were both invigorated by this unexpected draught, and went on so
merrily after it, that the distance to the place where we had left our
gourd-dishes seemed less than we expected. We found them quite dry, and
very light and easy to carry.
Just as we had passed through the grove in which we had breakfasted,
Turk suddenly darted away from us and sprang furiously among a troop of
monkeys, which were gamboling playfully on the turf at a little distance
from the trees. They were taken by surprise completely, and the dog, now
really ravenous from hunger, had seized and was fiercely tearing one to
pieces before we could approach the spot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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