He was so delighted with the fire that he brought up a dozen more loads of wood, which he laid near.  Then he drew up the bit of scantling, and bringing the coil of rope, he cut a piece off, and proceeded to fasten to the scantling the pole which he had procured in the woods.  He did this by winding the rope around in a close and even wind; and, finally, on concluding his task, he found that it was bound firmly enough to stand any breeze.  It took a long time to finish this; but Tom had slept late in the morning, and, though fatigued, he was not sleepy.  After this he sat down in front of the fire, and enjoyed its friendly light and its genial glow.  He kept heaping on the fuel, and the bright flames danced up, giving to him the first approach to anything like the feeling of comfort that he had known since he had drifted away from the Antelope.  Nor was it comfort only that he was mindful of while he watched and fed the fire.  He saw in this fire, as it shone out over the water, the best kind of a signal, and had some hope of being seen and hailed by some passing vessel.  In this hope he sat up till midnight, looking out from time to time over the water, and expecting every instant to see the shadow of some approaching vessel.

But midnight came, and Tom at length thought of sleep.  The sail had dried thoroughly through the day; so now he used it once more as a coverlet, and, folding himself in it, he reclined, as before, against the mossy bank, and slept.

On awaking the next day, he arose and looked around.  To his deep disappointment, he could see nothing.  There was a fog over all the scene.  The wind had changed, and his old enemy was once more besieging him.  It was not so thick, indeed, as it had been, being light and dry, so that the ground was not at all moistened; but still the view was obscured, so that no vessel could be seen unless it came within half a mile; and that was rather closer than most vessels would care to come to his island.

This day was Sunday, and all Tom’s plans had to be deferred until the following day.  However, it was not at all disagreeable to him to get rid of the necessity of work; and, indeed, never before did he fully appreciate the nature of the Day of Rest.  The rest was sweet indeed to his exhausted and overworn frame, and he did not go far away from his fire.  He had found some embers still glowing in the morning, and had kindled the fire anew from these, without drawing any more upon his precious store of matches.  He resolved now to keep the coals alive all the time, by feeding the fire during the day, and covering it up with ashes by night.

It was Sunday,—­the Day of Rest,—­and Tom felt all the blessedness of rest.  On the whole, it turned out to be the pleasantest day which he had known since he left the schooner.  Left now to quiet reflection, he recalled the events of the last week, and had more leisure to feel thankful over the wonderful safety which he had met with.  Even now on the island he was not without his comforts.  He had food and warmth.  So, on the whole, though he had his moments of sadness, yet the sadness was driven out by cheerfulness.  It was not all dismal.  The words of that poem which is familiar to every school-boy rang in his ears:—­