This last shot, this last charge of powder and lead, which he has preserved so preciously as a final resource, it will serve to put an end to his days! Well, is not this the most valuable service he can expect from it?
He examines the gun; the priming is yet undisturbed; he passes his nail over the flint, leans the butt against the ground, takes off the thick leather which covers his foot, that he may be able to fire with more certainty.

But during all these preparations his resolution grows weaker; he trembles as he rests the gun against his temples; that sentiment of self-preservation, so profoundly implanted in the heart of man, re-awakens in him.

He hesitates--thrice returning to his first resolution, he brings the gun to his forehead; thrice he removes it.
At last, to drive away this demon of suicide, he fires it in the air.
Scarcely has he thus uselessly thrown away this precious shot before he repents.

He approaches the shore; it is at the moment when the tide is at its lowest ebb; the sun touches the horizon.

Selkirk lies down on the damp beach:--'When the wave returns,' said he, 'if it be God's will, let it take me!' Slumber comes first.