He must leave it to find its grave in the ocean, and that, perhaps, was the best end to a gun used as the Long Tom had been.
Part of his new treasures he took across the island on his back, and part he carried around it in the boat, which he found to be invaluable, and of which he took the utmost care, drawing it upon the beach at night, beyond the reach of tide or storm.
More than two weeks passed in these labors, and he was so busy, mind and body, that he was seldom lonely except at night.

Then the feeling was almost overpowering, but whenever he was assailed by it he would resolutely tell himself that he might be in far worse case.

He had shelter, food and arms in plenty, and it would not be long before he was taken off the island.

Exerting his will so strongly, the periods of depression became fewer and shorter.
But the silence and the utter absence of his own kind produced a marked effect upon his character.

He became graver, he thought more deeply upon serious things than his years warranted.