prolonged to a much greater extent than he
had first thought of, and there did not seem any longer a hope of
saving himself by his own exertions.

Alone on a desert island!

It was a dreadful fact which now forced itself more and more upon Tom's
mind, until at length he could think of nothing else. Hitherto he had
fought off the idea whenever it presented itself, and so long as he had
been able to indulge in any hope of freeing himself by his own
exertions, he prevented himself from sinking into the gloom of utter
despair. But now he could no longer save himself from that gloom, and
the thought grew darker and drearier before him--the one fact of his
present situation.

Alone on a desert island!

A very interesting thing to read about, no doubt; and Tom, like all
boys, had revelled in the portrayals of such a situation which he had
encountered in his reading. No one had entered with more zest than he
into the pages of Robinson Crusoe, and no one had enjoyed more than he
the talks which boys love to have about their possible doings under
such circumstances. But now, to be here, and find himself in such a
place,--to be brought face to face with the hard, stern, dismal
fact,--was another thing altogether. What oppressed him most was not
the hardships of his position. These he could have withstood if there
had been nothing worse. The worst part of his present life was its
solitude. If Bart had been here with him, or Bruce, or Arthur, or
Phil, or Pat, how different it would have been! Even old Solomon would
have enabled him to pass the time contentedly. But to be alone,--all
alone,--without a soul to speak to,--that was terrible.

Tom soon found that the very way to deepen his misery was to sit still
and brood over it. He was not inclined to give way to trouble. It has
already been seen that he was a boy of obstinate courage, resolute
will, and invincible determination. He was capable of struggling to
the last against any adversity; and even if he had to lose, he knew how
to lose without sinking into complete despair. These moods of
depression, or even of despair, which now and then did come, were not
permanent. In time he shook them off, and looked about for some new
way of carrying on the struggle with evil fortune.

So now he shook off this fit of depression, and starting up he
determined not to sit idle any longer.

"I won't stand it," he muttered. "There's lots of things to be seen,
and to be don