Jack was fain to follow this well-meant advice, and a few minutes later he was sound asleep.
It was nearly night before he awoke, and even then his friend would not allow him to leave his couch.
“Here is a dish of goat’s milk and I will soon have some warm oat porridge.”
Jack felt stronger when he had partaken of the simple food offered him, but he was still too weak to move about very much, and in less than five minutes he was again asleep.
He did not awake until the following morning this time, when he found himself in pretty good condition.
His host being absent at the time, he had an opportunity to examine his surroundings. He found himself in a small hut built of the straw of wild oats, interwoven with long, slender sticks, while the roof was treated in the same way. Only a few rather primitive utensils of cooking and living were to be seen, and he was wondering what sort of a hermit he had fallen in with when the man entered.
He was past middle life, with a sunburned, bearded and honest countenance.
Upon seeing that Jack had awakened, his looks instantly brightened and he spoke cheerily:
“Glad to see you looking so well. You will be all right in a day or two.”
“Is it possible that I am on the island where Robinson Crusoe spent his lonely years?”