was the ship that brought him? Then a vague dread took hold of my
mind, that some man, or set of men, had found me out; and it
might be, that they meant to kill me, or rob me of all I had.

How strange a thing is the life of man! One day we love that
which the next day we hate. One day we seek what the next day we
shun. One day we long for the thing which the next day we fear;
and so we go on. Now, from the time that I was cast on this isle,
my great source of grief was that I should be thus cut off from
the rest of my race. Why, then, should the thought that a man
might be near give me all this pain? Nay, why should the mere
sight of the print of a man's foot, make me quake with fear? It
seems most strange; yet not more strange than true.

Once it struck me that it might be the print of my own foot, when
first the storm cast me on these shores. Could I have come this
way from the boat? Should it in truth turn out to be the print of
my own foot, I should be like a boy who tells of a ghost, and
feels more fright at his own tale, than those do whom he meant to
scare.

Fear kept me in-doors for three days, till the want of food drove
me out. At last I was so bold as to go down to the coast to look
once more at the print of the foot, to see if it was the same
shape as my own. I found it was not so large by a great deal; so
it was clear there were men in the isle. Just at this time my
good watch dog fell down dead at my feet. He was old and worn
out, and in him I lost my best guard and friend.

One day as I went from the hill to the coast, a scene lay in