His feet had become so hardened that he no
longer felt the briers or sharp stones. When he grew weary, he slept,
in whatever place he found himself, and these were his only quiet
hours.
To chase the agoutis had ceased to be an object worthy of his efforts;
the kids took their turn, afterwards the goats. He had acquired such
dexterity of movement, and such strength of muscle, such certainty of
eye, that to leap from one projection of rock to another, to spring at
one bound over ravines and deep cavities, was to him but a childish
sport. In these feats he took pleasure and pride.
Sometimes, in the midst of his flights through space, he would seize a
bird on the wing.
The goats themselves soon lost their power to struggle against such a
combatant. Notwithstanding their number, had Selkirk wished it, he
might have depopulated the island. He was careful not to do this.
If he wished to procure a supply of provisions, he directed his steps
towards the most elevated peaks of the mountain, marked his game,
pursued it, caught it by the horns, or felled it by a blow from his
stick; after which his knife-blade did its office. The goat killed, he
threw it on his shoulders, and, almost as swiftly as before, regained
the cavernous grotto or leafy tree, in the shelter of which he could
this day eat and sleep.
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