Long since had he given up any hope of rescue, except
through accident. With unremitting zeal he had worked to
beautify the interior of the cabin.
Skins of lion and panther covered the floor. Cupboards and
bookcases lined the walls. Odd vases made by his own hand
from the clay of the region held beautiful tropical flowers.
Curtains of grass and bamboo covered the windows, and,
most arduous task of all, with his meager assortment of tools
he had fashioned lumber to neatly seal the walls and ceiling
and lay a smooth floor within the cabin.
That he had been able to turn his hands at all to such
unaccustomed labor was a source of mild wonder to him.
But he loved the work because it was for her and the tiny life
that had come to cheer them, though adding a hundredfold
to his responsibilities and to the terribleness of their situation.
During the year that followed, Clayton was several times
attacked by the great apes which now seemed to continually
infest the vicinity of the cabin; but as he never again
ventured outside without both rifle and revolvers he had
little fear of the huge beasts.
He had strengthened the window protections and fitted a
unique wooden lock to the cabin door, so that when he
hunted for game and fruits, as it was constantly necessary for
him to do to insure sustenance, he had no fear that any animal
could break into the little home.
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