I thought of all that had ever happened to me both before and after my shipwreck.
I thought of my first happy years on the island.
I thought of the fear and care that I had lived in ever since I saw the first footprint in the sand.
Then I thought of my great desire to see my native land once more, and to have friends and companions with whom I could talk.
These thoughts brought to mind the savages of whom I had so great a dread, and I began to ask myself a thousand questions about them.
How far off was the coast from which they came?
Why did they come to my island from so great a distance?
What kind of boats did they have?
With such thoughts as these I lay awake until far in the night. My pulse beat fast, my breath came hard, my nerves were unstrung.
At last, worn out by my very restlessness, I fell asleep.
The same thoughts must have followed me into my dreams, but they took a different form.
I dreamed that I was sitting on the seashore with my gun on my lap and my umbrella by my side.
I was thinking, thinking, thinking. I had never been so sad and lonely.
I was thinking of the home I was never to see again, and of the friends who perhaps had forgotten me.
Suddenly, as I lifted my eyes, I thought I saw two canoes coming toward the island. I ran and hid myself in a grove by the shore.
There were eleven savages in the canoes, and they had with them another savage whom they were going to kill and eat.
But I thought in my sleep that this savage suddenly sprang up and ran for his life.
I thought that he came running to the little grove, to hide himself in it.
Seeing him alone, I arose and met him. I smiled kindly, and tried to make him know that I was his friend.
He threw himself on the ground at my feet. He seemed to be asking my help.