“Why, I thought,” said Johnny, “that there were no wild animals in New Holland, except kangaroos and opossums: my book of beasts, birds, and fishes, says so.”
This was a fact in Natural History which I was not prepared to gainsay; especially when backed by so redoubtable an authority as “the book of beasts, birds, and fishes.” For a moment I was taken all aback; but being loathe to give up my little companion a prey to imaginary jackalls, tiger-cats, and hyenas, I rallied again, resolved upon one more desperate effort for his deliverance.
“Well,” said I, “the fact is, we don’t know exactly where the Swiss Family Robinson’s island really was—it is altogether uncertain. It may have been near Java, or Ceylon, or the coast of India, in which case, all those Asiatic beasts could easily have got there—that is, if the two places were close enough together. Now we know that we are somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, a vast distance from any continent, or any of the great Indian islands, so that large animals here are out of the question, unless they have taken a swim of a thousand miles or so.”
This seemed to be pretty decisive; and I think it settled the jackalls, tiger-cats, and hyenas, effectually, for Johnny said no more on the subject, except to remark, that, even if they could swim that distance, they would stand a bad chance with the sharks and other sea-monsters; to which I added, as a final clincher, that in any event they would be sure to starve on the voyage, unless they should bring a large supply of provisions along. “Well,” said he, after a minute’s silence, “I’m not afraid of anything; but somehow or other I feel very wide awake to-night, and not in the least sleepy.”
“Shut your eyes,” said I, “and think of a great wheel, whirling round and round, with a regular and even motion, and never stopping, until you have counted it go round a hundred times.”
Johnny laughed softly to himself, as though pleased with this device, and was quite still for a minute or two; then he spoke again.
“It has gone round a hundred times, but towards the end it got a-going dreadfully fast; it would go fast in spite of all I could do.”
“Never mind the wheel, then,” said I, “but think of the huge lazy swells in a calm, rising and falling, rising and falling, as they did when we lay rocking in the boat, all those long days and nights, out on the sea.”
“Well, I’ll try—but I don’t believe it will be of any use.”
“Don’t look at the moon, and don’t speak to me again—unless for something very particular—and now good night.”