eclines, he sees little valleys linked
together with charming undulations; but on the mountains at his left,
in the valleys at his right, among the hills in the distance, his eye
vainly seeks the vestige of a human habitation.

He sets out in search of one. The boat from which he landed has
deposited on the shore his effects--his arms, his nautical
instruments, his charts, a Bible, and provisions of various kinds.
Notwithstanding his piratical sentiments, the captain of the Swordfish
has not designed to precede exile by confiscation. Selkirk takes his
gun, his gourd; but, unable to carry all his riches, he conceals them
behind a stony thicket, well defended by the darts of the cactus, and
the sword-like leaves of the aloe, not caring to have the first comer
seize them as his booty.

As he is occupied with this duty, he feels himself suddenly clasped by
two long hairy arms; he turns his head, it is Marimonda, the captain's
monkey, a female of the largest species.

How came she there? Selkirk does not know.

Disgusted with her sea-voyages, with the intelligence natural to her
race, Marimonda has undoubtedly profited by the moment of the boat's
leaving the ship to conceal herself in it and gain the shore along
with the prisoner, which she might easily have done, unseen by all,
during the transporting of the effects and provisions.

However this may be, Selkirk begins by freeing himself from her grasp,
repulses the monkey and sets out: but the latter perseveres in
following, and after having, by her most graceful grimaces, sought to
conciliate him, marches beside him. Not caring to arrive at Coquimbo
escorted by such a companion, which would give him in a city the
appearance of a mountebank and showman of monkeys, Selkirk, this time,
repulses her rudely, not with his hand, but with the butt of his gun.

Struck in the breast by this home thrust, the poor monkey stops, rolls
up her eyes, moves her lips, and growling confusedly her complaints
and reproaches, crouches beneath a tuft of the sapota, leaving the man
to pursue his way alone.

Selkirk has at first directed his steps toward the valleys; after
having traversed these, he arrives at the margin of a sandy plain, and
as far as the eye can reach, perceives neither city, village, house,
tent nor hut, nothing which can indicate the presence of inhabitants.

Nevertheless, a little grove which he has just traversed, seems to
have recently, in its principal path, passe