as lovingly as a mother on her child.

The next morning Robinson's first thought was, "I am no longer alone. I
have a companion, my goat." He sprang up and looked for it. There she
lay on her side, still sleeping.

As he stood and considered, the thought came to him that perhaps the
goat had escaped from its keeper. There must then be some one living on
the land. He quickly put on his shoes and his hat, took his parasol, and
ran to the rock where he had found the goat.

He called, he sought, he peered about to see if some shepherd were there
somewhere. He found nothing. He found no trace of man. There was no
road, no bridge, no field, no logs, not even a chip or shaving to show
that the hand of man had been there.

But what was that? In the distance ran a herd of goats over the rocks.
But no dog followed them and no shepherd. They ran wild on the island.
They had perhaps been left there by some ship. As he came home he
noticed the goat sorrowfully. The bandage had become dry. The goat might
be suffering pain. Robinson loosened the bandage, washed the wound again
and bound it up anew. It was so trustful. It ran after him and he
decided always to protect it.

"I will always be your shepherd and take care of you," he said.

XIX

ROBINSON BUILDS A HOME FOR HIS GOAT

But the goat was a new care. Wild animals could come and kill and carry
Robinson's goat away while he slept, and if the goat got frightened
while he was hunting it would run away.

"I will have to make me a little yard in front of my cave," he said,
"for my goat to live in." But from whence must come the tools? He had
neither hatchet nor saw. Where then were the stakes to come from? He
went in search of something. After hunting for a long time he came upon
a kind of thistle about two feet higher than himself, having at its top
a red torch-like blossom. There were a great many of them.

"Good!" thought Robinson. "If I could only dig up enough of them and
plant them thick around the door of my cave, I would have just the
thing. No one could get at me, nor at the goat, either. The thorns would
keep anything from creeping through, peeping in or getting over."

So he took his mussel-shell spade and went to work. It was pretty hard,
but at length he succeeded in laying bare the roots of quite a number.
But he could not drag them to his cave on account of the thorns sticking
in him. He thought a long time. Finally, he sought out two strong poles
or