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
A bright morning awoke us early, and I rose and looked out, thinking
that perhaps our poor donkey might have been attracted by the light of
the fires, and have returned. Alas! not a sign of him was to be seen. As
we could not afford to lose so valuable a beast, I determined to leave
no attempt untried to regain him. We hurriedly breakfasted, and, as I
required the dogs to assist me in the search, I left my elder sons to
protect their mother, and bade Jack get ready for a day's march. This
arrangement delighted him, and we quickly set out.
For an hour or more we trudged onward, directed by the print of the
ass's hoofs. Sometimes we lost the track for a while, and then again
discovered it as we reached softer soil. Finally this guide failed us
altogether, for the donkey seemed to have joined in with a herd of some
larger animals, with whose hoof-prints his had mingled. I now almost
turned back in despair, but Jack urged me to continue the search; "For,"
said he, "if we once get upon a hill we shall see such a large herd, as
this must be, at almost any distance. Do let us go on, father."
I consented, and we again pushed forward, through bushes, and over
torrents, sometimes cutting our way with an ax, and sometimes plunging
knee-deep through a swamp. We at length reached the border of a wide
plain, and on it, in the distance, I could see a herd of animals
browsing on the rich grass. It struck me that it might be the very herd
to which our good donkey had joined himself; and, wishing to ascertain
whether this was so, I resolved to make a detour through a bamboo marsh,
and get as near as possible to the animals without disturbing them. The
bamboos were huge, many of them over thirty feet in height; and, as we
made our way through them, I remembered an account of the giant cane of
South America, which is greatly prized by the Indians on account of its
extreme usefulness; the reeds themselves make masts for their canoes,
while each joint will form a cask or box. I was delighted, for I had
little doubt that the bamboos we were among were the same species. I
explained this to Jack, and as we discussed the possibility of cutting
one down and carrying a portion of it home, we reached the border of the
marsh, and emerged upon the plain. There we suddenly found ourselves
face to face with the herd which we sought--a herd of buffaloes. They
looked up and stared at us inquisitively, but without moving. Jack would
have fired, but I checked him. "Back to the thicket," I said, "and keep
back the dogs!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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