Barty Crusoe and His Man Saturday

"Yes, he did," murmured Barty.

"Now what do you think we had better look for first?" the Good Wolf asked him.

"What do you think?" said Barty.

"I want you to tell me," replied the Good Wolf. "It's your desert island, you know, and you ought to take some of the responsibility."

Barty stood still and looked down at the ground, and the crowd of black monkeys at the top of the tree looked down at him and stopped chattering as if they wanted to hear what he would say. After about a minute he looked up.

"We can't roast potatoes unless we have a fire, and we can't have a fire unless we have some matches, and we haven't any matches," he said.

The Good Wolf shook his head seriously.

"No, we haven't any matches," he answered.

"Do you think we should find any if we went to look for some?" Barty asked, feeling rather uncertain.

The Good Wolf got up and shook his fur coat thoroughly.

"There is no knowing what one may find on a desert island," he remarked. "There is absolutely no knowing." Then he stopped a minute. "Is that all you can think of just now?" he asked Barty. "Just look about you."

Barty looked about him on the grass and under the trees, but he saw nothing which made him think of anything new.

"Look all about you," said the Good Wolf.

So he looked not only on the ground, but up into the tree tops and over them into the sky. It looked very blue and hot and beautiful, but far away he saw a rather small cloud of a very queer color – it was purplish-black and had ragged edges.

"It's a storm cloud," said the Good Wolf, looking serious, "and it's coming towards the island. Do you see the wind beginning to stir the tops of the trees?"

"Yes," said Barty, looking rather anxious himself. "On Robinson Crusoe's desert island there was a kind of storm they call a tropical storm – I don't know what 'tropical' means, but the storms were dreadful. Is there going to be one now?"

"There is," said the Good Wolf. "Tropical storms are storms in the hot countries, and they are not nice to be out in."

Barty gave a shout.

"Then it's a house we must find first," he said, "as quickly as ever we can. We can't stay in the forest because the wind roots up the trees and the lightning strikes them and they fall crashing and crashing. We must find a house or a place to hide in. Could we run back to the beach and dig a hole in the sand and creep into it?"

"The kind of storm that cloud is bringing here," answered the Good Wolf, "will lash the sea into waves like mountains, and they will roll in and cover the beach like a big tide."

"The tree tops are beginning to shake now and the monkeys are chattering as if they were frightened," said Barty. "It's very queer and exciting."

"We must get away from the trees," said the Good Wolf. "Are you frightened?"

"Yes, I am frightened," answered Barty, "but there isn't any time to cry. Shall we run as fast as ever we can and look about us everywhere while we are running?"

"Yes," answered the Good Wolf; "we had better run to a place where there will be nothing to fall on us. One to be ready, two to be steady, three and – away!" And off they both started as fast as they could, and left the monkeys chattering and screaming behind them.

There were trees everywhere except near the shore, so they ran back towards where the sea was.

"If we stay on the cliffs the mountain waves won't dash up that high, will they?" Barty panted as he ran.

"No, they won't," answered the Good Wolf, "but the wind may blow us off the cliffs into the water."

"I don't see any house anywhere," said Barty.

"Neither do I," said the Good Wolf. "You don't find houses on desert islands; you have to build them."

Barty's stout little legs were flying over the ground faster than they had ever flown before, and he was in such a hurry he could scarcely find breath to speak, but he gave a little gasping laugh.

"There isn't much time to build one now," he said. And the Good Wolf grinned from ear to ear.

How they did run – over the grass and up the slopes and down the hollows and over the green gullies! The wind came in hot puffs and shook the tree tops, and the purplish-black cloud looked more ragged than ever, and was growing bigger and coming nearer. By the time they got to the bottom of the long green slope which led to the top of the cliff they had to stop a few moments to take breath.

It was just then that Barty thought he saw a little black head dart out of the long grass and then dart back again.

"Did you see anything near that big leaf?" he asked his companion.

"No," answered the Good Wolf.

"I thought I saw something, but perhaps I didn't," Barty said.

Then they began to climb the long green slope, and it was very steep, and the hot puffs of wind seemed to rush down it to push them back.

"Did you see anything peep out from behind that bush?" Barty said, stopping suddenly again.

"No," answered the Good Wolf, "nothing."

Then they climbed and climbed. The big puffs of wind grew hotter and fiercer, and the cloud spread until it was blotting out the blue of the skies quite fast. Barty's stout little legs were very tired.

"Did you see anything peep up from behind that bit of rock?" he said suddenly, for the third time.

"No," answered the Good Wolf; "nothing at all."

"I was almost sure I did," said Barty, "But it was gone so quickly that I couldn't see what it was."

The Good Wolf looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Was it black?" he inquired.

"Yes," answered Barty. "Perhaps you did see it."

"No," replied the Good Wolf; "I didn't see it exactly, but I thought that if you were to see anything just at this time it would be something black."

"Why?" asked Barty. "Why?"

"Trot along, trot along, trot along," said the Good Wolf. "We haven't found a house yet, but at the top of the cliff there is a hollow in the ground that we might lie down in."

The cloud had grown so big that it had spread itself over the sun and was making the sky look quite dark. The hot wind was blowing so hard that the Good Wolf had to bend his head and stiffen himself on his four legs to stand up against it.