For a year, Crusoe continued in the same mood and, for safekeeping, he moved his boat to a little cove under some high rocks so that no savages could discover it. Apart from his necessary duties, he no longer left his habitation because he still vividly remembered the footprint and the remains of a cannibal feast.
While contemplating God's direction of the universe, he was confused at times as to whether God directed the universe directly or, as Crusoe believed, by little hunches and hints. Since Crusoe was preoccupied with fear for his safety, he no longer invented things or contrived substitutes. He made no fires, lest the smoke give away his presence; he did not fire his gun, fearing that it might be heard, nor did he drive a nail or chop wood, for the same reason — that is, it might be heard. Because he feared to start a fire, he contrived to burn some wood at the mouth of a hollow until it became dry charcoal, which he carried home.
It was while he was cutting wood that he found a large cave, but to his distress, two eyes shined out of the darkness within. Recovering from his fright, he ventured in, with a fire brand only, to find a dying old he-goat. Unable to get him out, he decided to let him lie there, so as to frighten away any exploring savages. Going back to the cave, he found it to be a suitable storage room for guns and ammunitions because the floor was level and dry.
The he-goat suddenly died, and Crusoe buried him inside the cave since he was too heavy to drag out. Crusoe was now in his twenty-third year of residence on the island. He remembered how his dog died, how he taught his parrot to speak more fluently, and how the cats multiplied so fast that he had to start shooting them.
