oh, Abraham, are you hurt? Tell me quick – tell me, are you hurt?"
"My skull! my skull!" groaned Abraham, in rending tones; "oh! Luff, my skull is broken!"
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "what are we to do? This is terrible! Wretch that I am, I thought only of myself!"
Abraham groaned again. His face was livid, and a small streak of blood that coursed down his right cheek told how truly he had spoken.
"Abraham, my friend Abraham!" I exclaimed, in a perfect agony of distress, "perhaps it's not so bad. It may not be broken."
"Yes it is," said Abraham; "I heard it crack when I fell. My feet flew up, and I fell on my back. It must have struck a rock."
"Oh, Abraham, what are we to do? I wouldn't have had this to happen for the whole island. Here, I'll tear my shirt off and tie it up."
"No, no, Luff, it can't be mended; it's broken all to smash. I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand dollars. It can never, never be mended!"
"Let me see," said I, carefully laying back his hair; "something must be done, Abraham."
"No, no – nothing can be done; the trouble's not there, Luff; it's here– here, in my pocket!" At the same time, while I started back in a perfect maze of confusion, Abraham thrust his hand into his coat pocket, and brought forth a whole handful of thin flat bones, broken into small pieces, which he held out with a rueful face, groaning again as he looked at them.
"No, no, it can't be mended, Luff."
"The devil!" said I, angrily, "you may thank your stars it isn't any worse than that!"
"Worse! worse!" cried Abraham, highly excited; "what do you mean? In the name of common sense, isn't that bad enough? How could it be any worse?"
"Pshaw! Abraham; I thought, when I heard your lamentations, and saw that scratch of a bush on your face, that your own natural cranium was fractured."
"Well, what if you did?" cried Abraham, still irritated. "Would you call that worse? A live skull will grow together, but a dead one won't. And this —this, with such a history to it – to lose this, after all my trouble in finding it – oh, Luff, Luff, it's too bad!"
However, having no farther time to spare over his ruined skull, he put back the bones in his pocket, and, with a heavy sigh, joined me as I sprang down through the grove.
The rest of our descent was comparatively easy. When we got down to the head of the valley, a muddy stream broke wildly over the rocks, carrying down with it the branches and leaves of trees, and roaring fearfully as it rushed on toward the ocean. We followed this in its rapid descent, and were soon with our friends at the boat-landing.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE AMERICAN CRUSOE
The third night closed, leaving us still upon the island. Who could tell if the vessel would be in sight by morning? Should the gale continue, it was not improbable that she would be driven far to the leeward, and perhaps compelled to give up the search for us entirely. Ships had not unfrequently been in sight of the island for weeks, as we afterward learned, and yet unable to make an anchorage, in consequence of baffling winds and heavy gales. It might turn out to be no joke, after all, this wild exhibition. To be Crusoes by inclination was one thing, by compulsion another.
We were determined not to spend another night in the cave; that was out of the question. There was not one of us who wanted to enjoy the romance of that place again. No better alternative remained for us than to make a bargain with Pearce, the American, for quarters in his straw cabin. This we were the more content to do upon seeing him emerge from the bushes with a dead kid hanging over his shoulders, which we naturally supposed he intended for supper.
At first he spoke rather gruffly for a fellow-countryman; but this we attributed to his wild manner of life, separated from all society; nor were we at all disposed to quarrel with him on account of his uncouth address, when we came to consider that a man might understand but little of politeness, and yet be a very good sort of fellow, and understand very well how to cook a kid. We had no money, which we honestly told him in the beginning; but we promised him, in lieu thereof, a large supply of ham and bread from the ship. This did not seem to improve the matter at all; indeed, we began to think he was loth to credit us, which, however, was not the case. He said the Californians who had been there had eaten up nearly all his stores, and had paid him little or nothing. They had promised him a good deal, but promises were the principal amount of what he got. If this was all, he wouldn't mind it; they were welcome to what he had; but he didn't like folks to come and take possession of his house as a matter of right, and get drunk in it, and raise Old Scratch with his furniture, and then swear at him next morning for not keepin' a better tavern. He didn't pretend to keep a tavern; it was his own private house, and he wanted it to be private – that's what he came here for. He had society enough at home, and a darn'd sight too much of it. He liked to choose his own company. He was an independent character himself, and meant to be independent in spite of all the Californians on this side of creation. All he wished was that old Nick had a hold of California and all the gold in it – if there was any in it, which he didn't much believe himself. He hoped it would be sunk tolerably deep under the sea before some of 'em got there. It was a tolerable hard case, that a man couldn't live alone without a parcel of fellers, that hadn't any thing to do at home, comin' all the way to Juan Fernandez to play Scratch with his house and furniture, and turn every thing upside down, as if it belonged to 'em, and cuss the hair off'n his head for not makin' a bigger house, and keepin' a bar full of good liquor, and a billiard saloon, and bowlin'-alley for the accommodation of travelers – a tolerable hard case. He'd be squarmed ef he was a goin' to stand it any longer.
We agreed with Crusoe that this was indeed rather a hard case, but promised him that he would find us altogether different sort of persons. We were first-class passengers – none of your rowdy third-class; he understood all that; they were all first-class passengers ashore; he wouldn't believe one of 'em on oath. Again we endeavored to compromise the matter, so far as regarded the ham at least, of which he was entirely incredulous, by telling him that he might come on board with us, and then when we'd be sure not to run away without paying him.
"But what if you should carry me away?" said he, evidently startled by this proposition.
"Nothing – only we'd take you to California. That would be a lucky chance for you."
"No, it wouldn't. I don't want to go there. I'm very well here."
"But there's plenty of gold in California," said we; "no doubt about it at all. You may live here all your life, and be no better off."
"I'm well enough off," retorted Crusoe; "I only want people to let me alone. Ever since this California business they've been troublin' me."
"You surely can't be happy here without a soul near you! Why, it's enough to drive a man mad. It must be dreadfully dull. You can't be happy!"
"Yes I am!" said Crusoe, peevishly; "I'm always happy when I ain't troubled. When I'm troubled I'm mis'rable. Nothin' makes me so mis'rable as bein' troubled."
"It makes a good many people miserable," was our reply. "We must trouble you for a night's lodging, at all events, for we have no place else to stay."
"I don't want you to stay nowhere else!" cried Crusoe; "that wasn't what I meant: you mustn't get drunk – that's what I meant."
"No, we won't get drunk; we haven't any thing to get drunk on, unless you insist upon giving us something."
"Very
