Davy sat still for a moment, hoping that Mother Hubbard, or perhaps the dog, or even the cat, would appear, so that he might explain his story about the cab. None of them came; but meanwhile a very extraordinary thing happened, for the house itself began to _go_. First the chimneys sank down through the roof, as if they were being lowered into the cellar. Then the roof itself, with its gables and dormer windows, softly folded itself flat down upon the top of the house, out of sight. Then the cab door and the latticed windows fluttered gently for a moment, as if rather uncertain how to dispose of themselves, and finally faded away, one by one, as if they had been soaked into the bricks. Then the porch gravely took itself to pieces and carried itself, so to speak, carefully in through the front door; and finally the front door went in itself, and nothing was left of the house that Jack built but a high brick wall, with the climbing roses running all over it like a beautiful pink vine. All this was so unexpected and so wonderful that Davy sat quite still, expecting something marvellous of this wall; but it proved to be a very matter-of-fact affair, with no intention whatever of doing anything or going anywhere, and, after watching it attentively for a few moments, Davy got up and resumed his journey along the road.

CHAPTER XI.

ROBINSON CRUSOE'S ISLAND.

"This is a very sloppy road," said Davy to himself, as he walked away from the Bean-stalk farm; and it was, indeed, a _very_ sloppy road. The dust had quite disappeared, and the sloppiness soon changed to such a degree of wetness that Davy presently found himself in water up to his ankles. He turned to go back, and saw, to his alarm, that the land in every direction seemed to be miles away, and the depth of the water increased so rapidly that, before he could make up his mind what to do, it had risen to his shoulders, and he was carried off his feet and found himself apparently drifting out to sea. The water, however, was warm and pleasant, and he discovered that, instead of sinking, he was floated gently along, slowly turning in the water like a float on a fishing-line. This was very agreeable; but he was, nevertheless, greatly relieved when a boat came in sight sailing toward him. As it came near, it proved to be the clock, with a sail hoisted, and the Goblin sitting complacently in the stern.

"How d'ye do, Gobsy?" said Davy.

"Prime!" said the Goblin, enthusiastically.

"Well, stop the clock," said Davy; "I want to get aboard."

"I haven't any board," said the Goblin, in great surprise.

"I mean I want to get into the clock," said Davy, laughing. "I don't think you're much of a sailor."

"I'm not," said the Goblin, as Davy climbed in. "I've been sailing one way for ever so long, because I don't know how to turn around; but there's a landing-place just ahead."

Davy looked over his shoulder and found that they were rapidly approaching a little wooden pier, standing about a foot out of the water. Beyond it stretched a broad expanse of sandy beach.

"What place is it?" said Davy.

"It's called Hickory d.i.c.kory Dock," said the Goblin. "All the eight-day clocks stop here;" and at this moment the clock struck against the timbers with a violent thump, and Davy was thrown out, heels over head, upon the dock. He scrambled upon his feet again as quickly as possible, and saw, to his dismay, that the clock had been turned completely around by the shock and was rapidly drifting out to sea again. The Goblin looked back despairingly, and Davy just caught the words, "I don't know how to turn around!" when the clock was carried out of hearing distance, and soon disappeared on the horizon.

The beach was covered in every direction with little hills of sand, like hayc.o.c.ks, with scraggy bunches of sea-weed sticking out of the tops of them; and Davy was wondering how they came to be there, when he caught sight of a man walking along the edge of the water, and now and then stopping and gazing earnestly out to sea. As the man drew nearer, Davy saw that he was dressed in a suit of brown leather, and wore a high-peaked hat, and that a little procession, consisting of a dog, a cat, and a goat, was following patiently at his heels, while a parrot was perched upon his shoulder. They all wore very large linen collars and black cravats, which gave them a very serious appearance.

Davy was morally certain that the man was Robinson Crusoe. He carried an enormous gun, which he loaded from time to time, and then, aiming carefully at the sea, fired. There was nothing very alarming about this, for the gun, when fired, only gave a faint squeak, and the bullet, which was about the size of a small orange, dropped out quietly upon the sand.

Robinson, for it was really he, always seemed to be greatly astonished at this result, peering long and anxiously down into the barrel of the gun, and sometimes listening attentively, with his ear at the muzzle.

His animal companions, however, seemed to be greatly alarmed whenever he prepared to fire; and, scampering off, hid behind the little hills of sand until the gun was discharged, when they would return, and, after solemnly watching their master reload his piece, follow him along the beach as before. This was all so ridiculous that Davy had great difficulty in keeping a serious expression on his face as he walked up to Robinson and handed him the Hole-keeper's letter. Robinson looked at him suspiciously as he took it, and the animals eyed him with evident distrust.

Robinson had some difficulty in opening the letter, which was sopping wet, and took a long time to read it, Davy, meanwhile, waiting patiently. Sometimes Robinson would scowl horribly, as if puzzled, and then, again, he would chuckle to himself, as if vastly amused with the contents; but as he turned the letter over, in reading it, Davy could not help seeing that it was simply a blank sheet of paper, with no writing whatever upon it except the address. This, however, was so like the Hole-keeper's way of doing things that Davy was not much surprised when Robinson remarked, "He has left out the greatest lot of comical things!" and, stooping down, buried the letter in the sand. Then, picking up his gun, he said, "You may walk about in the grove as long as you please, provided you don't pick anything."

"What grove?" said Davy, very much surprised.

"This one," said Robinson, proudly pointing out the tufts of sea-weed.

"They're beach-trees, you know; I planted 'em myself. I had to have some place to go shooting in, of course."

"Can you shoot with _that_ gun?" said Davy.

"Shoot! Why, it's a splendid gun!" said Robinson, gazing at it proudly.

"I made it myself--out of a spy-gla.s.s."

"It doesn't seem to go off," said Davy, doubtfully.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ROBINSON REMARKED 'HE HAS LEFT OUT THE GREATEST LOT OF COMICAL THINGS.'"]

"That's the beauty of it!" exclaimed Robinson, with great enthusiasm.

"Some guns go off, and you never see 'em again."

"But I mean that it doesn't make any noise," persisted Davy.

"Of course it doesn't," said Robinson. "That's because I load it with tooth-powder."

"But I don't see what you can shoot with it," said Davy, feeling that he was somehow getting the worst of the argument.

Robinson stood gazing thoughtfully at him for a moment, while the big bullet rolled out of the gun with a rumbling sound and fell into the sea. "I see what you want," he said, at length. "You're after my personal history. Just take a seat in the family circle and I'll give it to you."

Davy looked around and saw that the dog, the goat, and the cat were seated respectfully in a semicircle, with the parrot, which had dismounted, sitting beside the dog. He seated himself on the sand at the other end of the line, and Robinson began as follows:--

_The night was thick and hazy When the "Piccadilly Daisy"

Carried down the crew and captain in the sea; And I think the water drowned 'em; For they never, never found 'em, And I know they didn't come ash.o.r.e with me._

_Oh! 'twas very sad and lonely When I found myself the only Population on this cultivated sh.o.r.e; But I've made a little tavern In a rocky little cavern, And I sit and watch for people at the door._

_I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking, As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews But I had that fellow Friday, Just to keep the tavern tidy, And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes._

_I have a little garden That I'm cultivating lard in, As the things I eat are rather tough and dry; For I live on toasted lizards, p.r.i.c.kly pears, and parrot gizzards, And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie._

_The clothes I had were furry, And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair; And I had to sc.r.a.pe and sand 'em, And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em, Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear._

_I sometimes seek diversion In a family excursion With the few domestic animals you see; And we take along a carrot As refreshment for the parrot, And a little can of jungleberry tea._

_Then we gather, as we travel, Bits of moss and dirty gravel, And we chip off little specimens of stone; And we carry home as prizes Funny bugs, of handy sizes, Just to give the day a scientific tone._

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IF THE ROADS ARE WET AND MUDDY, WE REMAIN AT HOME AND STUDY."]

_If the roads are wet and muddy We remain at home and study,-- For the Goat is very clever at a sum,-- And the Dog, instead of fighting, Studies ornamental writing, While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum._

_We retire at eleven, And we rise again at seven; And I wish to call attention, as I close, To the fact that all the scholars Are correct about their collars, And particular in turning out their toes._

Here Robinson called out, in a loud voice, "First cla.s.s in arithmetic!"

but the animals sat perfectly motionless, sedately staring at him.

"Oh! by the way," said Robinson, confidentially to Davy, "this _is_ the first cla.s.s in arithmetic. That's the reason they didn't move, you see.

Now, then," he continued sharply, addressing the cla.s.s, "how many halves are there in a whole?"

There was a dead silence for a moment, and then the Cat said gravely, "What kind of a hole?"

"That has nothing to do with it," said Robinson, impatiently.

"Oh! hasn't it, though!" exclaimed the Dog, scornfully. "I should think a big hole could have more halves in it than a little one."

"Well, _rather_," put in the Parrot, contemptuously.