The sea also sang a pleasant song as it rolled in and broke on the rocks, and Robert, looking around at his island, felt that he could have fared far worse.
Rifle on shoulder he went off for a long and brisk walk, and his steps unconsciously took him, as they often did, toward the high hill in the center of the island, a crest that he used as a lookout.

On his way he passed his friend, the old bull, grazing in a meadow, and, watching his herd, like the faithful guardian he was.

Robert called to him cheerfully.

The big fellow looked up, shook his horns, not in hostile fashion but in the manner of comrade saluting comrade, and then went back, with a whole and confident heart, to his task of nipping the grass.

Robert was pleased.