The trees were not as magnificent as those of the northern wilderness, but they had a beauty very peculiarly their own, and they were his.

There was not a single other claimant to them anywhere in the world.
It was a noble beach too, smooth, sloping, piled with white sand, gleaming now in the sun, and the little frothy waves that ran up it and lapped at his feet, like puppies nibbling, were just the friendliest frothy little waves in the world.

But there were the remains of the fire left by the ruffians to defile it, and broken bottles and broken food were scattered about.

The litter hurt his eyes so much that he gathered up every fragment, one by one, and threw them into the sea.

When the last vestige of the foul invasion was cleared away he felt that he had his lonely, clean island back again, and he was happy.
He strolled up and down the glistening beach, feeling a great content.
After a while, he threw off his clothes and swam in the invigorating sea, keeping well inside the white line of the breakers, in those waters into which the sharks did not come.