He shakes off his lethargy, takes his lasso, his
game-bag. His plan now is, not to hunt the kids, but the goats
themselves.
As he is about to set out, Marimonda approaches, preparing to
accompany him. In his present frame of mind, Selkirk wishes to be
alone, and makes her comprehend, by signs, that she must remain at
home and watch the flock; but this time, contrary to her custom, she
does not seem disposed to obey. Notwithstanding his orders, she
follows him, stops when he turns, recommences to follow him, and, by
her supplicating looks and expressive gestures, seeks to obtain the
permission which he persists in refusing. At last Selkirk speaks
severely, and she submits, still protesting against it by her air of
sadness and depression. Was this, on her part, caprice or foresight?
No one has the secret of these inexplicable instincts, which sometimes
reveal to animals the presence of an invisible enemy, or the approach
of a disaster.
At evening, Selkirk had not returned! Marimonda passed the night in
awaiting him, uttering plaintive cries.
On the morrow the morning rolled away, then the day, then the night,
and the cabin remained deserted, and Marimonda in vain scaled the
trees and hills in the neighborhood to recover traces of her master.
What had become of him?
CHAPTER IX.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110