hey blistered and this method had to be given up.

"I must have fire," he still thought, and recalled the sparks that flew
from the stone pavements of the streets when the iron shoes of the
horses struck them as they slipped and strained at their cruel loads.
Why may I not get fire by striking together two stones? He sought out
two hard stones and with great diligence kept striking them together
until his strength gave out, and he was obliged again to acknowledge
failure.

He remembered that sometimes travelers put the meat underneath the
saddle and ride on it until it is soft. He tried it with pounding. He
laid some of the meat on a flat stone and pounded it. It became quite
soft and tasted very well. He then tried hanging it in the sun and
finally wrapped it in leaves and buried it for a few hours in the hot
sand.

XVII

ROBINSON MAKES SOME FURNITURE

One thing troubled Robinson very much. He could not sit comfortably
while eating. He had neither chair nor table. He wished to make them,
but that was a big job. He had no saw, no hammer, no auger and no nails.
Robinson could not, therefore, make a table of wood.

Not far from his cave he had seen a smooth, flat stone. "Ay," thought
he, "perhaps I can make me a table out of stone." He picked out the best
stone and built up four columns as high as a table and on these he laid
his large, flat stone. It looked like a table, sure enough, but there
were rough places and hollows in it. He wanted it smooth. He took clay
and filled up the holes and smoothed it off. When the clay dried, the
surface was smooth and hard. Robinson covered it with leaves and decked
it with flowers till it was quite beautiful.

When the table was done, Robinson began on a chair. He made it also of
stone. It had no back. It looked like a bench. It was uncomfortable to
sit on. Robinson covered it with moss. Then it was an easy seat.

Table and chair were now ready. Robinson could not move them from one
corner to another, nor when he sat on the chair could he put his feet
under the table, and yet he thought them excellent pieces of furniture.

Every day Robinson went hunting and shot a rabbit, but the meat would
not keep. At home they would have put it in the cellar. If only he had a
cellar! He saw near his cave a hole in the rock. He dug it out a little
with his mussel shell and found that it led back under a rock.

From much bending over in digging, Robinson's back, unused to severe