The wild animal was silent.
My family looked down anxiously from our nest in the treetop.
"Come, Fritz," I whispered.
"We must go down and find out what was making that awful noise."
We picked up our guns, and he followed me down the steps.
Outside we glided carefully from tree to tree.
Suddenly we heard that awful sound again, and it was quite nearby!
Fritz raised his gun, but quickly lowered it.
"It's only Grizzle." He laughed as our missing donkey appeared before us.
Our friend was not alone.
Behind him trotted another animal resembling a donkey, but slim and graceful as a horse.
"That's a wild donkey, Fritz," I whispered.
"Creep back to Falconhurst and bring me two pieces of rope."
He soon returned with the rope and some oats.
The wild donkey followed Grizzle's lead and nibbled some oats.
I quickly threw the rope around her neck while Fritz captured Grizzle.
Despite the wild donkey's kicking and struggling, I managed to lead her back to Falconhurst.
We tied both animals under the roots of our tree for the night.
The next morning I realized that we needed to provide better shelter for our animals and ourselves before the rainy season arrived.
In addition to our new donkey—which we named Lightfoot—three broods of chickens had recently hatched.
We began by constructing walls and a roof over the roots of our tree.
After fastening bamboo canes tightly together, we filled any holes with clay and moss.
Then we coated the roof and walls with tar to make everything waterproof.
I divided the space into rooms.
Stables, henhouse, kitchen, and dining room were soon all under one roof.
Every day we loaded our cart with provisions for our winter quarters: cassava, potatoes, coconuts, and other foods.
One day when we were out gathering nuts, Ernest found a nest made from long, broad grass.
"I'll take some of this grass home for Franz," said Ernest, waving a piece around.
"He can pretend it's a sword."
When we arrived home, Franz was delighted with his new toy.
But Mother was even happier.
"That's not grass," she said.
"That's flax. Once it's properly prepared, I can make linen for clothing."
So we added soaking the flax in water to our tasks.
Soon the rain began to fall, and we had to retreat to our shelter under the roots.
We carried down any furniture or household items that might be damaged by the moisture.
With our beds all around us, our dwelling was crowded indeed.
We gradually rearranged our things so that we had more room.
During the day we sent our formerly wild animals outside.
We figured that they were used to surviving the rainy season.
Every night Fritz and I went outside to bring them back in.
And every night we returned home soaked to the skin.
"You need waterproof suits," said my wife. "Let me make some for you."
First she sewed a hood to a heavy shirt.
Then she attached the shirt to some pants.
She coated the whole outfit with layers of rubber to produce a wonderful waterproof suit.
Time dragged despite our efforts to keep busy.
Our days were occupied with caring for our animals and doing chores.
In the evenings I wrote in my journal while my wife sewed.
Ernest made sketches of the birds, animals, and flowers that he had encountered since our arrival.
Fritz and Jack taught little Franz to read.
At last the rainy season was over.
We climbed up to our nest and found it filled with broken branches.
"Is Falconhurst ruined?" cried Franz.
"No, no, my boy," I reassured him.
"There's nothing here that a few days of hard work can't fix."
I was more worried about Tentholm.
And sure enough we found that the tent was blown down and the canvas torn to rags.
Our provisions were soaked, and two kegs of gunpowder were ruined.
The sailboat was safe, but the tub boat had been destroyed by the waves.
"We need to find a better place to spend the rainy season," I said to Fritz.
He looked at the rocky cliffs surrounding Tentholm.
"Maybe we could hollow out a cave in the rock."
A few days later we loaded up our cart with hammers, chisels, pickaxes, and crowbars.
The three older boys and I battered away at the rock without making much progress.
But on the tenth day, Jack suddenly shouted, "I lost my crowbar!
It fell through a hole and I heard it crash down inside!"
We rushed to his side. "There must be a cavern in there," I said.
With a shout of joy, the boys attacked the rock.
And soon the hole was large enough for us to enter the cave.