room."

That was easily said. He had neither axe nor saw, nor knife nor spade.
How could he do it? He had nothing but his hands. He tried to pull
it out by the roots, but in vain. He wasn't strong enough.

"I must dig it out," said Robinson.

He scratched with his nails, but the earth was too hard. What should
he do? He sought a stick with a fork in it and dug in the earth, but
it was slow work. Then he found a clamshell. He did better with it,
but it was hard work, and Robinson was not used to hard work. The
sweat ran down his face and he had often to stop and rest in the
shade. The sun burned so hot and the rock so reflected the heat that
he was all but overcome. But he worked on. When evening came, he would
sleep in the tree and next morning he would go at it again. On the
third day the roots were all laid bare.

But the roots were fast in the clefts of the rock and he could not
loosen it, try ever so hard. What would he not have given for an axe,
or at least a knife. And yet he had never thought of their value when
at home. He attempted to cut one root through with his clam-shell,
but the shell crumbled and would not cut the hard wood.

He stood for a long time thinking, not knowing what next to do. He
made up his mind that he must have something harder than the shell
to cut with. Then he tried a stone with a sharp edge, but soon found
he needed another one, however. He found one. Then he set the sharp
one on the wood and struck it with the heavy one. In this way he slowly
cut the roots in two.