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Las diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 THE 8H00TINQ MATCH 1 .i fm i^^,. ^ %.# '■:*^. .r^ ^"^'^ ■% k.. ■•>*»''■ Jli' . "♦wf ■K' 'r':,' mi •res-. 0- •.#f iii jf''^",i0i- .if^^' ^..^«r^#. ;f; ^■i*. '«. •V' •>Jfc^ ';|i.V!^^ "* ..— . .T„ >\ 'M ■4 „-;.!S •/•«7' » •-1" •^ ^ Af. ■■•** .4 TO * jk- :^V;^; ■^-,,^ .gi«f'-*J'*' r"'«,* <>....»•■ .^A . .„».'..*ii-j&a^ i V'' -' i \ J v_. y o > ^^ :\ ri 1"^ ' •'• / '' \ CXrjf^r II THE DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies By TRobcrt /Iftlcbaci Jenllann^iic Aulli>.i i.( " 1 lu- Lor.il I:,l.iii.l," "111. ^■.Hlll- I ur- I r.vUis,' " lii^;.na.' •• riiL- lionll.i-iliintt rs," " Tliu Work! of Ite,' '•M llli 1 1< itllL-f, ' N i: \v K I ) I r I o N T. XE/..SOX A A- jy S O AS .\j:ir )uA'A- lSd3 1 CONTENTS. CH.VrTKU 1 ThrUn-kirooihscttlnnnit-Crusoc'sparnifaucamlrayh,hislon,-n^ J"in,H and sorrows nf hi, tn,,>p,,/wo>f, and other in'crcstin., nnithr,. D CHAPTEIl n. .1 Hhooting-Mutch and its ,'onsequcncrs-Ncw friends introdiu^cd to the nmhr ^ —Crusoe nmUus mother ckun'jc masters lu CHAPTER III. »pecidatire remarks with which the reenhr ma>, or i,un, not aaree-An nhl 'T''''lr"T'' '"''^ "-''''<^>^<'^^nminuhd ,rith hard facts-The do;, Cruso,-s 'M education hej/un. CHAPTKR IV. Onr hero enlarged upon— Grumps .43 rilAl'TKIl V. .1 mhsion of peace-Uncrpeded jo!,s^J>irk and Crusoe set of for the fand nf the Redskms, and meet mth adventures h,, the tea,, as a matter of ,-our.., - J^HI'dm the wild icoods... . ' -^ uO CHAPTKR Vr. The great prairies of the far west-A remarkable eolon,, discovered, and a miserable night endured.... b.» CHAPTER VII. The ''wallering'' peculiarities of buffalo bulls-The first buffalo hunt and its conse,uences-C.n^^^^^^ comes to the rescue -Pa n-nees discovered -A monster buffalo hunt-Joe acts the part of ambassador. -n 1 VI CUNT i: NTS. CHAI'TKU VI If. JJick find lim frioxls ritn't (he Iiidiunx rs /i/cn flnir (kchjk — Un' rinctcl into-rn/ifinn — Tlir tallies tumid — Cmmie nimods ininrii — Thc (.seajte iL'l CHAPTF.U Xr. Ennnnj mrditati(ms and morniwj reflict imt a— Buffaloes, l>ad;nvs, anfdopis, a ml arcidcuts — An old hull and the irnlrrs — ^'' Mad tails''' — Htnri jlmivid, etc loS CHAPTER XII. Wandrriuns on, the prairie— A var part>i—('hasrd Ini Indians — A huld Imp for life 152 CIIAPTKR XIII. Escape from Indians — A discovery — Alone in the desert 1(10 CHAPTER XIV. C'rusix's rdurn, and his private adrrutun s anuniii thi Indians — Dick at a n r/i low ebb — Crusoe saves him 170 CHAPTER XV. Health and happiness r>turn — Inciihnts of the Journcii — .1 buffalo shut — A wild horse *'creas(d" — Dirk's butth villi a mustan;/ 17S CHAPTER XVI. Dick bermnes a horse tamer — liesumes his Jourm u — Charlie's d(n'n;is— Misfor- tunes irhich lead to, but do not terminate in, the liockif Moiinf<(ins- A II rizzhi bea r 1!»5 CHAPTER XVII. Dick's first jiijitt irith a iiri:r.l>i — Adventure irdli a ilar — A surprise 1207 CHAPTER XVIII. A surprise, anil a piece of ijoad ni irs — The fur-traders — Crusoe jirovid, and the Fciijans pursuid 2ir» .1(10 I ^ (OXTKNTS. yjj tH.\I'Ti:i; MX. JJ!» IIIAI'TKIJ XX. ^■'''■;''::^7';r;:'''-';''''^-''''''^'-'''''-^'''''''- '-• ../....w^ /,.„-. CJfAPTKi: .\XI. "■"''■" '"/"■;'■■ ';;■■ '""••"■ "'"' «"«■' -■. -„,. „ ,,„,^_„, ,„„,..,, :;;,'"■■'',"""■' """;■' ' -■- "■'"" •""< <"•■ ••-^w,„../„•■- : ' 2(53 nrlusa-Tl.r Ju,luinsaU,u'l:(lu cawp-A Uow-up f,^ :{iii \\'2-2 CHArTKR XXVIT. ;«i THE DOG CRUSOE. -♦♦- CHAPTER I. I The backwooih nittleincnt—CruHortipnrnitafjc and mrhi historii — The (VKmizinrt pains and sorrows of his puppiiliood, and other intcrtstinij laatlcrs. THE dog Crusoe wa.s once a pup. Now do not, courteous realer, toss your head contemptuously, and exclaim, " Of course he was ; I could have told yoio that." You know very well that you have often seen a man above six feet high, broad and powerful as a lion, with a bronzed shaggy visage and the stern glance of an eagle, of whom you have said, or thought, or heard others say, " It is scarcely possible to believe that such a man was once a squalling baby." If you had seen our hero in all the strength and majesty of full-grown doghood, you would have experienced a vague sort of sui-prise had we told you — as we now repeat— that the dog Crusoe was once a pup — a soft, round, sprawling, squeaking pup, as fat as a tallow candle, and as blind as a bat. But we draw particular attention to the fact of Crusoe's having once been a pup, because in connection with the days of his puppyhood there hangs a tale. 10 THE DOG CRUSOE. This peculiar dog may thu^i be said to have had two tails — one in connection with his hody, the other with his career. This tale, though short, is very harrowing, and as it is intimately connected with Crusoe's subse- quent history we will relate it here. But before doing so we nuist beg our reader to accompany us beyond the civilized portions of the United States of America — - beyond the frontier settlements of the " far west," into those wild prairies which are watered by the great Missouri River — the Father of Waters — and his numer- ous tributaries. Here dwell the Pawnees, the Sioux, the Delawarers, the Ci'ows, the Blackfeet, and many other tribes of Red Indians, who are gradually retreating step by step to- wards the Rocky Mountains as the advancing white man cuts down their trees and ploughs up their prairies. Here, too, dwell the wild horse and the wild ass, the deer, the buftalo, and the badger ; all, men and brutes alike, wild as the power of untamed and ungovernable passion can make them, and free as the wind that sweeps over their mighty plains. There is a romantic and exquisitely beautiful spot on the banks of one of the tributaries above referred to — a lono- stretch of mini>led woodland and meadow, with a maonificent lake Ivinn' like a q:cu\ in its QTeen l)Osom — which goes l)y the name of the IMustang Valley. This remote vale, oven at the present day, is but thinly peopled by white men, and is still a frontier settlement round which the wolf and the bear prowl curiously, and from wliich the startled deer bounds terrified away. At the period of which we write the valley had just l!i THE DOG CRUSOE. 11 ay. been taken possession of by several families of squatters, who, tired of the turmoil and tlu.' squabbles of tlu' fht'U frontier settlements, had pushed boldly into the far Avest to seek a new home for themselves, where they could have " elbow room," reo-ardlcss alike of the danci'cvs they miijht encount(U' in unknown lands and of the lledskins who dwelt there. The squatters were well armed with axes, rifles, and ammunition. Most of the women were used to dangers and alarms, and placed implicit reliance in the power of their fathers, husbands, and brothers to protect them -, and well thev mitiht, for a bolder set of stalwart men than these backwoodsmen never trod thi' wildernes.s. Each had been trained to the nse of the rifle and the axe from infancy, and many of them had spent so nuich of their lives in the woods that they were more than a match for the Indian in his own peculiar pursuits of hunting and war. When the squatters first issued from the woods bordering the valley, an innnense herd of wild horses or mustangs wei-e browsing on the plain. These no sooner beheld the cavalcade of white men than, uttering a wild neigh, tlu'V tossed their flowiuii' manes in the breeze and dashed away like a whirlwind. This incident procured the valley its name. The new-comers gave one satisfied jxhT-J^t'e at their future home, and then set to work to ei-ect log huts forthwith. Soon the axe was heard ringinu" throuuh the forests, and tn^e after tree fell to th(^ ground, while the occasional sharp ring of a rifle told that the hunters were catering successfully for the camp. In course of time the Mustang Valley began to assume the aspect of 12 THE DOG CRUSOE. a thriving settlement, with cottages and waving fields clustered too-ether in the midst of it. Of course the savages soon found it out and paid it occasional visits. These dark-skinned tenants of the woods brought furs of wild animals with them, which they exchanged with the white men for knives, and beads, and baubles and trinkets of brass and tin. But they hated the " Pale-faces " with bitter hatred, because their encroachments had at this time materially cur- tailed .the extent of their hunting-grounds, and nothing but the numbers and known courage of the squatters prevented these savages from butchering and scalping them all. The leader of this band of pioneers was a Major Hope, a gentleman whose love for nature in its wildest a.spects determined him to exchange barrack life for a life in the woods. The major was a first-rate shot, a bold, fearless man, and an enthusiastic naturalist. He was past the prime of life, and being a bachelor, was unencumbered with a family. His first act on reaching the site of the new settlement was to commence the erection of a block-house, to which the people might retire in case of a general attack by the Indians. In this block-house Major Hope took up his abode as the guardian of the settlement. And here the dog- Crusoe was born ; here he sprawled in the early morn of life ; here ho leaped, and yelped, and wagged his shaggy tail in the excessive glee of puppyhood ; and from the wooden portals of this block -house he bounded forth to the chase in all the fire, and strength, and majesty of full-grown doghood. Li ;:i THE DOG CRUSOE. 13 nd ed (1 Crusoe's father and mother were magnificent New- foundlanders. There was no doubt as to their being of the genuine breed, for Major Hope had received them as a parting gift from a brother officer, who had brought them both from Newfoundhind itself. The father's name was Crusoe, the mother's name was Fan. Why the father had been so called no one could tell. The man from whom Major Hope's friend had obtained the pair was a poor, illiterate fisherman, who had never heard of the celebrated " Robinson " in all his life. All he knew was that Fan had been named after his own wife. As for Crusoe, he had got him from a friend, who had got him from another friend, whose cousin had received him as a marriaoe-fjift from a friend of his; and that each had said to the other that the dog's name was " Crusoe," without reasons being asked or given on either side. On arriving at New York the major's friend, as we have said, made him a present of the dogs. Not being much of a dog fancier, he soon tired of old Crusoe, and gave him away to a gentleman, who took him down to Florida, and that was the end of him. He was never lieard of more. When Crusoe, junior, was born, he was born, of course, without a name. That was given to him after- wards in honour of his father. He was also born in company with a brother and two sisters, all of whom drowned themselves accidentally, in the first month of their existence, by falling into the river which flowed past the block - house — a calamity which occurred, doubtless, in consequence of their having gone out with- out their mother's leave. Little Crusoe was with his 14 THE DOG CRUSOE. brother and sisters at tlie time, and fell in alono; witli by li them, but was saved from sharing their fate by Jus mother, who, seeing what had happened, dashed witli an agonized liowl into the water, and, seizing him in her nioutli, brought him ashore in a lialf-drowned con- dition. Slie afterwards brouglit tlie others ashore one by one, but the poor little things were dead. And now we come to the harrowing part of our tale, for the propor understanding of which the foregoing dissertation was needful. One beautiful afternoor , in that charminii' season of the American year called the Indian sunnuer, there came a fannly of Sioux Indians to the Mustang Valley, and pitched their tent close to the block-house. A young hunter stood leaning against the gate-post of the palisades, watching the movements of the Indians, who, having just finished a long " palaver " or talk with Major Hope, were now in the act of preparing supper. A fire had been kindled on the greensward in front of the tent, and above it stood a tripod, from which de- pended a large tin camp-kettle. Over this hung an ill- favoured Indian woman, or squaw, who, besides attend- ing to the contents of the pot, bestowed sundry culls and kicks upon her little child, which sat near to her plajing with several Indian curs that gambolled round the fire. The master of the family and his two sons reclined on buffalo robes, smoking their stone pipes or calumets in silence. There was nothing peculiar in their appear- ance. Their faces were neither dignified nor coarse in expression, but wore an aspect of stupid apathy, which formed a striking: contrast to the countenance of the ^€ imtf \ i tl THE DOG CRUSOE. 16 yoniiuf hunter, wlio seemed an amused .spectator of tlieir proceeding's. The youth referred to was very unlike, in many respects, to wliat we are accustomed to suppose a bnck-- woods hunter shoukl V)e. He - himself suddenlv, he seized his old rifle, and dropping quietly to the outskirts of the crowd, while the men were still husy handling and discussing the merits of the prize, went up, unobserved, to a boy of about thirteen years of age, and touclied hiui on the shoulder. " Here, Marston, you know I often said ye should have the old rifle when I was rich enough to o-et a new one. Take it noiv, lad. It's come to ye sooner than either o' us expected." " Dick," said the boy, grasping his friend's hand warmly, " ye're true as heart of oak. It's good of 'eC; that's a fact." " Not a bit, boy ; it costs me nothin' to give away an old gun that I've no use for, an's worth little, but it makes mo rioht o-jad to have the chance to do it." Marston had longed for a rifle ever since he could walk ; hut his prospects of obtaining one were very poor indeed at that time, and it is a question whether he did not at that moment experience as much joy in handling the old piece as his friend felt in shouldering the prize. A difliculty now occurred which had not before been thouo'ht of. This Mas no less than the absolute refusal of Dick Varley's canine property to follow him. Fan had no idea of chanirina' masters without her consent o ])ein£f asked or her inclination heinir consulted. 30 THE DOG CRUSOE. ' , ;i| i' Hi I'j i^ i IM •i ■' " You'll have to tie her up for a while, I fear," said the major. " No fear," answered the youth. " Dog natur's like human natur' ! " Saying this he seized Crusoe by the neck, stuffed him comfortably into the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and walked rapidly away with the prize rille on his shoulder. Fan had not bargained for this. She stood irresolute, gazing' now to the right and now to the left, as the major retired in one direction and Dick with Crusoe in another. Suddenly Crusoe, who, although comfortable in body, was ill at ease in spirit, gave utterance to a melancholy howl. The mother's love instantly prevailed. For one moment she pricked up her ears at the sound, and then, lowering them, trotted quietly after her new master, and followed him to his cottage on the margin of the lake. i;i? I m i.i CHAPTER III. speculative rcriutrkn witli uliich thr rcmlrr iiuvi or iiuni not wire — An old icoman — Hopes and ivishes comtiiimjhd with hard facts — The do'j Crutsoe's education hegun. IT is pleasant to look upon a serene, quiet, humble face. On such a face did Richard Yarley look every night when he entered his mother's cottage. Mrs. Varley was a widow, and she had followed the fortunes of her brother, Daniel Hood, ever since the death of her husband. Love for her only brother induced her to forsake the peaceful village of Maryland and enter upon the wild life of a backwoods settlement. Dick's mother was thin, and old, and wrinkled, but her face was stamped with a species of beauty which never fades — the beauty of a loving look. Ah ! the brow of snow and the peach-bloom cheek may snare the heart of man for a time, but the loving look alone can forge that adamantine chain that time, age, eternity shall never break. Mistake us not, reader, and bear with us if wo attempt to analyze this look which characterized Mrs. Varley. A rare diamond is worth stopping to glance at, even when one is in a hurry. The brightest jewel in the human heart is worth a thought or two. By a loving If 32 TirE DOG CRUSOE. ■X':i Ui look we do not mean a look of love bestowed on a beloved object. Tluit is common enough ; and thankful should we be tliat it is so common in a world that's overfull of hatred. Still less do we mean that smile and look of intense affection with which some people — good people too — greet friend and foe alike, and l)y which effort to work out their heaio ideal of the expres- sion of Christian love they do signally damage their cause, by saddening the serious and repelling the gay. Much, less do we mean that iierpetual smile of good-will which argues more of personal comfort and self-love than anything else. No ; the loving look we speak of is as often grave as gay. Its character depends very much on the face through which it beams. And it cannot be counterfeited. Its ring defies imitation. Like the clouded sun of April, it can pierce through tears of sorrow ; like the noontide sun of summer, it can blaze in warm smiles ; like the northern lights of winter, it can gleam in depths of woe ; — but it is always the same, modified, doubtless, and rendered more or less patent to others, according to the natural amiability of him or her who bestows it. No one can put it on ; still less can any one put it off. Its range is universal ; it embraces all mankind, though, of course, it is intensified on a few favoured objects ; its seat is in the depths of a renewed heart, and its foundation lies in love to God. Young Varley's mother lived in a cottage which was of the smallest possible dimensions consistent with com- fort. It was made of logs, as, indeed, were all the other cottages in the valley. The door was in the centre, and a passage from it to the back of the dwelling divided it 1 5 THE DOG CRUSOE. 33 into two rooms. One of tlioso was sub-divided by a thin partition, the inner room lieiiig Mrs. Varley's bed- room, tlie outer Dick's. ]3aiiiel Hood's dormitory was a corner of the kitclien, wliicli apartment served also as a parlour. The rooms were lighted by two windows, one on each side of the door, which gave to the house the appearance of having a nose and two eyes. Houses of this kind have literally got a sort of expression on — if we may use the word — their countenances. Square windows give the appearance of easy-going placidity ; lovgish ones, that of surprise. Mrs. Varley's was a surprise cottage ; and this was in keeping with the scene in which it stood, for the clear lake in front, studded with islands, and the distant hills beyond, composed a scene so surprisingly beautiful that it never failed to call forth an expression of astonished admiration from every new visitor to the Mustang Valley. " My boy," exclaimed ^Irs. Varley, as her son entered the cottage wdth a bound, " why so hurried to-day ? Deary me ! where got you the grand gun ? " " Won it, mother ! " " Won it, my son ? " "Ay, won it, mother. Druve the nail almost, and would ha' druve it altogether had I bin more used to Joe Blunt's ritle." Mrs. Varley's heart beat high, and her face flushed with pride as she gazed at her son, who laid the rifle on the table for her inspection, while he rattled oft' an animated and somewhat disjointed account of the match. 3 34 THE DOG CRUSOE. •,!! I '5| 11 H l:;i ll i: "Deary mo! now that was good, that was cliver. But what's that scraping at the door { " " Oh ! tliat's Fan ; I foro-ot licr. Here ! horo ! Fan ! Come in, good dog," ho cried, rising and opening tlio door. Fan entered and stopped short, evidently uncomfort- able. " My boy, what do ye with the major's dog ? " " Won her too, mother ! " " Won her, my son ? " " Ay, won her, and the pup too ; see, here it is 1 " and he plucked Crusoe from his bosom. Crusoe having found his position to be one of great comfort had fallen into a profound slumber, and on being thus unceremoniously awakened ho gave forth a yelp of discontent that brought Fan in a state of frantic sympathy to his side. " There you are, Fan ; take it to a corner and make yourself at home. — Ay, that's right, mother, give her somethin' to eat ; she's hungry, I know by the look o' her eye." " Deary me, Dick ! " said Mrs. Varley, who now pro- ceeded to spread i.ho youth's mid-day meal before him, " did ye drive the nail three times ? " " No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought 'em all down at one shot — rifle, Fan, an' pup ! " " Well, well, now that was cliver ; but — " Here the old woman paused and looked grave. " But what, mother ? " " You'll be wantin' to go ofl" to the mountains now, I fear me, boy." THE DOG CRUSOE. 35 " "Wantin oioy !" exclaimed the youth earnestly ; " I'm always wantin'. I've l>in wantin' ever since I could walk ; but 1 won't .^o till 3'()u let nie, mother, that I won't!" And he struck tlu^ tahle with his fist so for- cibly that the platters nuii;' a^ain. "You're a i:;-ood boy, ])ick ; but you're too young yit to ventur' among the Redskins." " An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ven- tur' at all. You know, mother dear, I don't want to leave you ; but I was born to be a hunter, and every- l)ody in them parts is a hunter, and I can't hunt in the kitchen you know, mother ! " At this point the conversation was interrupted by a sound that caused young Varley to spring up and seize his rifle, and Fan to show her teeth and growl. " Hist, mother ! that's like horses' hoofs," he whis- pered, opening tlie door and gazing intently in the direction whence the sound came. Louder and louder it came, until an opening in the forest showed the advancing cavalcade to be a party of white men. In another moment they were in full view — a band of about thirty horsemen, clad in the leathern costume and armed with the long rifle of the far west. Some wore portions of the gaudy Indian dress, wdiich gave to them a brilliant, dashing look. They came on straight for the block-house, and saluted the Yarleys with a jovial cheer as they swept past at full speed. Dick returned the cheer with compound interest, and calling out, " They're trappers, mother ; I'll be back in an hour," bounded off" like a deer through the woods, taking a short cut in order to reach the block -house before 1H 1' il ^til i 36 THE DOG CRUSOE. them. He succeeded, for, just as lie arrived at the house, the cavalcade wheeled round the bend in the river, daslied up the slope, and came to a sudden halt on the green. Vaulting from their foaming steeds they tied them to the stockades of the little fortress, which they entered in a body. Hot haste was in every motion of these men. They were trappers, they said, on their way to the Rocky Mountains to hunt and trade furs. But one of their number had been treacherously murdered and scalped by a Pawnee chief, and they resolved to revenge his death by an attack on one of the Pawnee villages. They would teach these " red reptihjs " to respect white men, they would, come of it what might ; and they had turned aside hero to procure an additional supply of powder and lead. In vain did the major endeavour to dissuade these reckless men from their p'lrpose. They scoffed at the idea of returning good for evil, arxd insisted on being supplied. The log hut was a store as well as a place of defence, and as they offered to pay for it there was no refusing their request — at least so the major thought. The ammunition was therefore given to them, and in half-an-hour they wore away again at full galk;;* over the plains on their mission of vengeance. " Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord." But these men knew not what God said, because they never read his Word and did not own his sway. Young Varley's enthusiasm was considerably damped when he learned the errand on v Inch the trappers were bent. Trom that time forward ho gave up all desire THE DOG CRUSOE. 37 to visit the mountains in company with such men, but he still retained an intense lonoins: to roam at large among their rocky fastnesses and gallop out upon the wide prairies. Meanwhile he dutifully tended his mother's cattle and sheep, and contented himself with an occasional deer- hunt in the neicjlibourino; forests. Fo devoted himself also to the training of his dog Crusoe — an operation which at first cost him many a dv?ep sigh. Every one has heard of the sagacity and almost reason- ing capabilities of the Newfoundland dog. Indeed, some have even rjone the lenijth of sa^'ini;- that what is called instinct in these animals is neither more nor less than reason. And in truth many of the noble, heroic, and sagacious deeds that have actuallj' been performed by Newfoundland dogs incline us almost to believe that, like man, they are gifted with reasoning povvers. But every one does not know thy trouble and patience that is required in order to get a juvenile dog to under- stand what its master means when he is endeavouring to instruct it. Crusoe's first lesson was an interesting but not a very successful one. We may remark here that Dick Varley had presented Fan to his mother to be her watch-dog, resolving to devote all his powers to the training of the pup. We may also remark, in reference to Crusoe's appearance (and wo did not remark it soon-^i", chiefly because up to this period in his eventful history he was little better than a I'all of fat and hair), that his coat was mingled jet-black and pure white, and remai uibly glossy, curly, and thick. 'T 38 THE DOG CRUSOE, 1 1 ii^^ A week after the shooting-match Crusoe's education began. Having fed him foi* that period with his own hand, in order to gain his affection, Dick took him out one sunny forenoon to the margin of the lake to give him his first lesson. And here again we must pause to remark that, although a dog's heart is generally gained in the first instance through his mouth, yet, after it is thoroughly gained, his affection is noble and disinterested. He car. scarcel}'^ be driven from his master's side by blows ; and even when thus harshly repelled, is always ready, on the shortest notice and with the slightest encourap;' vn/^ to make it up again. Well, Dick Varley began by calling out, " Crusoe ! Crusoe ! come here, pup." Of course Crusoe know his name by this time, for it had been so often u<^ d as a prelude to his meals that he naturally expected a feed whenever he heard it. This portal to his brain had already been open for some days ; but all the other doors were fast locked, and it required a great deal of careful picking to open them. " Now, Crusoe, come here." Crusoe bounded clumsily to his master's side, cocked his ears, and wagged his tail, — so far his education was perfect. We say he bounded clumsily, for it must bo remembered that ho was still a very young pup, with soft, flabby muscles. "Now, I'm goin' to begin yer cdication, pup; thiitl o' that." Whether Crusoe thouu'ht of that or not we cannot THE DOG ClIUSCJE. 39 say, but he looked up in liis master's face as he spoke, cocked his ears very high, and turned his head slowly to one side, until it could not turn any farther in that direction ; then he turned it as nuich to the other side ; whereat his master burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and Crusoe innnediately began barking vocif- erously. " Come, come," said Dick, suddenly checking his mirth, " we mustn't play, pup, we must work." Drawing a leathern mitten from his belt, the youth held it to Crusoe's nose, and then threw it a jard away, at the same time exclaiming in a loud, distinct tone, " Fetch it." Crusoe entered at once into the spirit of this part of his training ; he dashed gleefully at the mitten, and proceeded to w^orry it with intense gratification. As for " Fetch it," he neither unc'')rstood the words nor cared a straw about tliem. Dick Varley rose innnediately, and rescuing the mitten, resumed his seat on a rock. " Come here, Crusoe," he repeated. " Oh ! certainly, by all means," said (Jrusoe — no ! he didn't exactly my it, but really he looketl these words so evidently that wc think it right to let them stand as they are written. If he could have finished the sentence, he would certainly have said, " Go on with that game over again, old boy ; it's quite to my taste — the jolliest thing in life, I assure you ! " At least, if we may not positively assert that he would have said tliat, no one else can absolutely afiirm that lie wouldn'l. Well, Dick Varley did do it over again, nnd Crusoe 'T" 40 THE DOG CRUSOE. f'M8 worried the mitten over again, utterly regardless of " Fetch it." Then they did it again, and again, and again, but without the slightest apparent advancement in the path of canine knowledge ; and then they went home. During all this trying operation Dick Varley never once betrayed the slightest feeling of irritability or im- patience. He did not expect success at first ; he was not therefore disappointed at failure. Next day he had him out again — and the next — and the next - i the next again, with the like unfavour- able result. In short, it seemed at last as if Crusoe's mind had been deeply imbued with the idea that he had been born expressly for the purpose of worrying that mitten, and he meant to fulfil his destiny to the letter. Young Varley had taken several small pieces of meat in his pocket each day, with the intention of reward- ing Crusoe when he should at length be prevailed on to fetch the mitten ; but as Crusoe was not aware of the treat that awaited him, of course the mitten never was " fetched." At last Dick Varley saw that this system would never do, so he changed his tactics, and the next morning gave Crusoe no breakfast, but took him out at the usual hour to ^0 through his lesson. This new course of conduct seemed to perplex Crusoe not a little, for on his way down to the beach ho paused frequently and looked back at the cottage, and then expressively up at his master s face, jlut the master was inexorable ; he went on, and Crusoe followed, for true love had now taken THE DOG CRUSOE. 41 possession of the pup's young heart, and he preferred his master's company to food. Varley now began by letting the learner smell a piece of meat, which he eagerly sought to devour, but was prevented, to his innnense disgust. Then the mitten was thrown as heretofore, and Crusoe made a few st'.ps towards it, but being in no mood for play he turned back. " Fetch it," said the teacher. "I won't," replied the learner mutely, Ity means of that expressive sign — not doing it. Hereupon Dick Varley rose, took up the mitten, and put it into the pup's mouth. Then, retiring a couple of yards, he held out the piece of meat and said, "Fetch it." Crusoe instantly spat out the glove and bounded towards the meat — once more to be disappointed. This was done a second time, and Crusoe came for- ward %vith the mitten in his mouth. It seemed as if it had been done accidentally, for he dropped it before coming quite up. If so, it was a fortunate accident, for it served as the tiny fulcrum on which to place the point of that mighty lever which was destined ere long to raise him to the pinnacle of canine erudition. Dick Varley immediately lavished upon him the tenderest caresses and gave him a lump of meat. But he quickly tried it again lest he should lose the lesson. The dog evidently felt that if he did not fetch that mitten he sliould liavo no meat or caresses. In order, however, to make sure that there was no mistake, Dick laid the mitten down beside the pup, instead of putting it into his mouth, and, retiring a few paces, cried, " Fetch it." •1=*^ r M 1 ^ 42 THE DOG CRUSOE. Crusoe looked uncertain for a moment, then he picked up the mitten and laid it at his master's feet. Tlie lesson was learned at last ' Dick Varley tumbled all the meat out of his pocket on the ground, and, while Crusoe made a hearty breakfast, he sat down on a rock and whistled with glee at having fairly picked the lock, and opened another door into one of the many chambers of his dog's intellect. 1 1 CHAPTER IV. Our hero ailanjcd upon — Grunips TWO years passed away. The IMustang. Valley settle- ment advanced prosperously, despite one or two attacks made upon it by the savages, who were, however, firmly repelled. Dick Varley had now become a man, and his pup Crusoe had become a full-grown dog. The " silver rifle," as Dick's weapon had come to be named, was well known among the hunters and the Iledskins of the border-lands, and in Dick's hands its bullets were as deadly as its owner's eye was quick and true. Crusoe's education, too, had been completed. Faith- fully and patiently had his young master trained his mind, until he fitted him to bo a meet companion in the hunt. To " carry " and " fetch " were now but trifiing portions of the dog's accomplishments. ITe could dive a fathom deep in the lake and bring up any article that might have been dropped or thrown in. His swimming powers \;'erc marvellous, and so powerful were his nuiscles that he seemed to spurn the water while pass- inix throunjh it, with his broad chest \\\d\\ out of the curling wave, at a sp(!ed that neither man nor beast could keep up with for a moment. His intellect now was sharp and quick as a needle ; he never required a ^ I 44 THE DOG CRUSOE. ii 'I Hi 1 \ i ! i: second bidding. When Dick went out hunting, he used frequently to drop a mitten or a powder-horn un- known to the dog, and after walking miles away from it, would stop short and look down into the mild, gentle face of his companion. " Crusoe," he said, in the same quiet tones with which he would have addressed a human friend, " I've dropped my mitten ; go fetch it, pup." Dick continued to call it " pup " from habit. One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe's eye, and in a moment he was away at full gallop, nor did he rest until the lost article was lying at his master's feet. Dick was loath to try how far back on his track Crusoe would run if desired. He had often gone back five and six miles at a stretch ; but his powers did not stop here. He could carry articles back to the spot from which they had been taken and leave them there. He could head the game that his master was pursuing and turn it back ; and he would guard any object he was desired to " watch " with unflinching constancy. But it would occupy too much space and time to enumerate all Crusoe's qualities and powers. His biography will unfold them. In personal appearance he was majestic, having grown to an immense size even for a Newfoundland. Had his visage been at all wolfish in character, his aspect would have been terrible. But he possessed in an eminent degree that mild, humble expression of face peculiar to his race. When roused or excited, and especially when bounding through the forest with the chase in view, he was absolutely magnificent. At other i,;; THE DOG CRUSOE. 45 suing it he mcy. tc to His Iving land. his tl in [face land the bher times his gait was slow, and lie seemed to pref<^r a quiet walk with ])ick Varley to aiiythinir else under the sun. But when Dick was inclined to be boisterous, Crusoe's tail and ears rose at a moment's notice, and he was ready for anything. Moreover, he obeyed commands instantly and implicitly. In this respect he put to shame most of the boys of the settlement, wdio were by no means famed for their habits of prompt obedience. Crusoe's eye was constantly watching the face of his master. When Dick said " Go '' hu went, wiiL-n he said " Come " he came. If he h id been in the midst of an excited bound at the throji,t of a stag, and Dick had called out, " Down, Crus ' he would have sunk to the earth like a stone. No doubt it took many months of training to bring the dog to this state of perfection, but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, and love. Besides all this, Crusoe could speak ! He spoke by means of the dog's dumb alphabet in a way that defies description. He conversed, so to speak, with his ex- tremities — his head and his tail. But his eyes, his soft brown eyes, were the chief medium of communication. If ever the language of the eyes was carried to perfec- tion, it was exhibited in the person of Crusoe. But, indeed, it would be difficult to say which part of his ex- pressive face expressed most — the cocked ears of expec- tation, the drooped ears oi sorrow ; the bright, full eye of joy, the half-closed eye of contentment, and the frowning eye of indignation accompanied with a slight, a very slight pucker of the nose and a gleam of daz- zling ivory — ha ! no enemy ever saw this last piece of 1)^ 'I ' I I * 1 - '■i H ! l! !': .1 i w 46 THE DOG CRUSOE. canine language without a full appreciation of what it meant. Then as to the tail — the modulations of moan- ing in the varied wag of tliat expressive member — oh ! it's useless to attempt description. IMortal man cannot conceive of the delicate shades of sentiment expressible by a dog's tail, unless he has studied the subject — the wag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the wriggle ! Away with description — it is impotent and valueless here ! As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. He had been bitten, on the sly, by half the ill-natured curs in the settlement, and had only shown his teeth in re- turn. He had no enmities — though several enemies — and he had a thousand friends, particularly among the ranks of the weak and the persecuted, whom he always protected and avenged when opportunity offered. A single instance of this kind will serve to show his char- acter. One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock be- side the lake — the same identical rock near which, when a pup, the latter had received his first lesson. They were conversing as usual, for Dick had elicited such a fund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had in- jected such wealth of wisdom into it, that he felt con- vinced it understood every word he said. " This is capital weather, Crusoe : i in't it, pup ? " Crusoe made a motion with his head which was quite as significant as a nod. " Ha ! my pup, I wish that you and I might go and have a slap at the grizzly bars, and a look at the Rocky Mountains. Wouldn't it be nuts, pup ? " THE DOG CRUSOE. 47 jh a ill- Icon - Iwas md 3ky Crusoe looked dubious. ■' Wluit, you don't ag-reo witli nie ! Now toll mo. pup, wouldn't ye like to grip a l>ar?" Still Crusoe looked dubious, but made a ^'ontle motion with his tail, as thouj^-h he would have said, " I've seen neither Rocky Mountains nor grizzly bars, and know nothin' about 'em, but I'm open to conviction." " You're a bravo pup," rejoined Dick, stroking the dog's huge head affectionately. " I wouldn't give you for ten times j'our weight in golden dollars — if there be sich thino-s." Crusoe made no reply whatever to this. He regarded it as a truism unworthy of notice ; he evidently felt that a comparison between love and dollars was preposterous. At this point in the conversation a little dog with a lame lej^; hobbled to the edge of the rocks in front of the spot where Dick was seated, and looked down into the water, which was deep there. Whether it did so for the purpose of admiring its very plain visage in the liquid mirror, or finding out what was going on among the fish, we cannot say, as it never told us ; but at that moment a big, clumsy, savage-looking dog rushed out from the neighbouring thicket and began to worry it. " Punish him, Crusoe," said Dick quickly. Crusoe made one bound that a lion mitjht have been proud of, and seizing the aggressor by the back, lifted him off his legs and held him, howling, in the air — at the same time casting a look towards his master for further instructions. " Pitch him in," said Dick, making a sign with his hand. 48 THE DOG CRUSOE. ni ' 1 ^'Mi fi Crusoe turned and quietly dropped tlie dog into the hike. Havin'^' recjarded his struii'L-les there for a few moments with grave severity of countenance, he walked slowly back and sat down beside his master. The little dog made good its retreat as fast as three legs Vv^ould carry it ; and the surly dog, having swum ashore, retired sulkily, with his tail very much between his legs. Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by great and small among the well-disposed of the canine tribe of the Mustang Valley. But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not actively engaged in Dick Varley's service, he busied himself with private little matters of his own. He undertook modest little excursions into the v ds or along the margin of the lake, sometimes aL ^, but more frequently with a little friend whose whole heart and being seemed to be swallowed up in admiration of his big companion. Whether Crusoe botanized or geologized on these excursions we will not venture to say. Assuredly he seemed as though he did both, for he poked his nose into every bush and tuft of moss, and turned over the stones, and dug holes in the ground — and, in short, if he did not understa,nd these sciences, he behaved very much as if he did. Certainly he knew as much about them as many of the human species do. In these walks he never took the slightest notice of Grumps (tha*"' was the little dog's name), but Grumps made up for this by taking excessive notice of him. When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and sat down ii THE DOO TTJUSOE. 49 i^y not asied He is or but eart n of or to for ^oss, imd [ces, he Han of ips im. m to look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Oruiiips trotted on too. When Crusoe examined a busli, Crumps sat down to watch him ; and when he (hig a hcle, Crumps looked into it to see what was there. Crumps never helped him ; his sole delight was in looking on. They didn't converse niuch, these two dogs. To he in each other's company seemed to be happiness enough — at least Crumps thought so. There was one point at which dumps stopped short, however, and ceased to follow his fri'^nd, and that was when he rushed headlong into the lake and disported himself for an hour at a time in its cool waters. Crusoe was, both by nature and training, a splendid water-dog. Crumps, on the contrary, held water in abhorrence ; so he sat on the shore of the lake disconsolate when his friend was bathing, and waited till he came out. The only time when Crumps was thoroughly nonplussed was when Dick Varley's w^histle sounded faintly in the far distance. Then Crusoe would prick up his ears and stretch out at full gallop, clearing ditch, and fence, and brake with his strong elastic bound, and leaving Crumps to patter after him as fast as his four-inch legs would carry him. Poor Crumps usually arrived at the village to find both dog and master gone, and would betake himself to his own dwelling, there to lie down and sleep, and dream, perchance, of rambles and gambols with his gigantic friend. 4 '. '' n l]\\ ^\ 'f CHAPTER V. A mission of peace — Unexpected jojis — DicJc nnd Crusoe set of for the land of the Redskins, "... ' meet v:ith adventures htj the urn/ as a matter of course — Nt(jht in the wild 'voods. « ONE day the inhabita.^ts of Mustang Valley were thrown into considerable excitement by the arrival of an officer of the United States army and a sraall escort of cavalry. They went direct to the block- house, which, since Major Hope's departure, had become the residence of Joe Blunt — that worthy having, by general consent, been deemed the fittest man in the settlement to fill the major's place. Scon it began to be noised abroad that the strangers had been riont b^^ Government to endeavour to brinix about, if possible, a more friendly state of feeling be- tween the Whites and the Indians by moans of presents, and promises, and fair spccclios. The party remained all niglit in the l)lock-]iouse, and ere long it was reported that Joe Blunt liad been re- queste(\ and liad consented, to be the leader and chief of a party of throe men wlio should visit the neigli- bourino" ti'ibos of Indians to the west and north of tlie valley as Government agents. Joe's knowledge of two or three difiV^rc^nt Indian dialoots. and his well-known i I l_. THE DOG CRUSOE. 51 and rc- |lucf liiih- tlic Itvvo )wn sagacity, rendered him a most fitting messenger on such an errand. It was also whispered that Joe was to have the choosing of his comrades in this mission, and many were the opinions expressed and guesses made as to who would be chosen. That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in his mother's kitchen cleaning his rifle. His mother was preparing supper, and talking quietly about the obsti- nacy of a particular hen that had taken to laying her eggs in places where they could not be found. Fan was coiled up in a corner sound asleep, and Crusoe was sitting at one side of the fire looking on at things in general. " I wonder," remarked Mrs. Varley, as she spread the table with a pure white napkin — " I wonder what the sodgers are doin' wi' Joe Blunt." As often happens when an individual is mentioned, the worthy referred to opened the door at that moment and stepped into the room. " Good e'en t'ye, dame," said the stout hunter, doffing his cap, and resting his rifle in a corner, while Dick rose and placed a chair for him. "The same to you, IVlaster Blunt," answered the widow; "you've jist comed in good time for a cut o' venison." " Thanks, mistress , I s'pose we're beholden to the silver rifle for that." " To the hand that aimed it, rather," suggested the wic^ow. " Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it," said Dick Varley. " But for Crusoe, that buck would ha' bin couched in the woods this niirht." A — — 52 THE DOG CRUSOE. " Oh ♦ it* it comes to that," retorted Joe, " I'd lay it to the door o' Fan, for if she'd niver bin born nother would Crusoe. But it's good an' tender meat, whativer ways ye got it. Howsiver, I've other things to talk about jist now. Them sodgers that are catin' buffalo tongues up at the block-house as if they'd niver ate meat before, and didn't hope to eat again for a twelvemonth — '' " Ay, what o' them ? " interrupted Mrs. Varley ; " I've bin wonderin' what was their errand." "Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley, and I've comed here a', purpis to tell ye. They want me to go to the Redskins to make peace between them and us ; and they've brought a lot o' goods to make them presents withal — beads, an' knives, an' lookin'-glasses, an' ver- milion paint, an' sich like, jist as much as'll be a light load for one horse — for, ye see, nothin' can be done wi' the Redskins without gifts.'' " 'Tis a blessed mission," said the widow ; " I wish it may succeed. D'ye think ye'll go ? '' " Go ? ay, that will I." " I only wish they'd made the offer to me," said Dick with a sigh. " An' so they do make the offer, lad. They've gin me leave to choose the two men I'm to take with me, and I've comed straight to ask you. Ay or no, for we must up an' away by break o* day to-morrow." Mrs. Varley started. " So soon ? " she said, with a look of anxiety, " Ay ; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist at this time, but I've heerd they're 'bout to break up camp an' away west ; so we'll need to use haste." iS Ci>. THE DOG CRUSOE. 53 " May I go, mother ? " asked Dick, with a look of anxiety. Tliere was evidently a conflict in the widow's breast, but it quickly ceased. " Yes, my boy," she said in her own low, quiet voice ; " and God e'o with ve. I knew the time must come soon, an' I thank him that your first visit to the Red- skins will be on an errand o' peace. ' Blessed are the peace-makers : for they shall be called the children of God.' " Dick grasped his mother's hand and- pressed it to his cheek in silence. At the same moment Crusoe, seeing that tlie deeper feelings of his master were touched, and deeming it his duty to sympathize, rose up and thrust his nose against liim. " Ah, pup," cried the young man hastily, " you must go too. — Of course Crusoe goes, Joe IMunt ? " "Hum ! I don't know that. Tip re's no dependin' on a dog to keep his to uc quiet in times o' danger." "Believe me," exclaiiiKd Dirk, flashing \\\i\i enthu- siasm, "Crusoe's more trusLnuithy than I am myself, If ye can trust the master, ye're safe to trust the pup." " Well, lad, ye may be right. We'll take him." " Thanks, Joe. And who else goes with us ? " " I've bin castin' that in my mind for some time, an' I've fixed to take Henri. He's not the i'est man in the valley, but he's the truest, that's a l.ict. And now, youngster, get yer horse an' rifle ready, and come to the block-house at daybreak to-morrow. — Good luck to ye, mistress, till we meet agin." Joe Blunt rose, and taking up his rifle — without 54 THE DOG CRUSOE. ' i ! I II J '.1 I which he scarcely ever moved a foot from his own door — left the cottage with rapid strides. " My son," said Mrs. Varley, kissing Dick's cheek as he resumed his seat, " put this in the little pocket I made for it in your hunting-shirt." She handed him a dmall pocket Bible. " Dear mother," he said, as he placed the book care- fully within the breast of his coat, " the Kedsi'in that takes that from me mus^ ^ake my scalp first. Ei:t don't fear for me. You've often said the Lord would protect me. So he will, njother, for sure it's an errand o' peace." " Ay, that's it, that's it," murmured the widow in a half -soliloquy. Dick Varley spent that night in converse with his mother, and next morning at daybreak he was at the place of meeting, mounted on his sturdy little horse, with the " silver rifle " on his shoulder and Crusoe by his side. " That's right, lad, tliat's right. Nothin' like keepin' yer time," said Joe, as he led out a pack-horse from the gate of the block-house, while liis own charger was held ready saddled by a man named Daniel Branrl, who had been appointed to the charge of the block -house in his absence. " Where's Henri ? — oh, here he comes ! " exclaimed Dick, as the hunter referred to came thundering up the slope at a charge, on a horse that resembled its rider in size and not a little in clumsiness of appear- ance. " Ah ! mes boy. Ilim is a go< 't one to go," cried \\\ \ .Vi*=] THE DOG CRUSOE. 55 hy ed r- Henri, remarking Dick's smile as he pulled up. " No boss on de plain can beat dis one , surement." " Now then, Henri, lend a hand to fix this pack ; we've no time to palaver." By this tiino they were joined by several of the soldiers and a few hunters who had come to see them start. " Remember, Joe," said one, " if you don't come back in three months we'll all come out in a band to seek von." " If we don't come back in less than that time, what's left o' us won't be worth seekin' for," said Joe, tighten- ing; the siirth of his saddle. " Put a bit in yer own mouth, Henri," cried another, as the Canadian arranged his steed's bridle ; " ye'U need it more tlian yer horse when ye git 'mong tlie red reptiles." " Vraiment, if mon mout' needs one bit, yours will need one padlock." "Now, lads, mount!" cried Joe Blunt as he vaulted into the saddle. Dick A^irley sprang liglitly on his horse, and Henri made a rush at his steed and hurled his hu^e frame across its back with a violence that ouirht to liave brought it to the ground ; but the tall, raw-boned, broad- chested roan was accustomed to the eccentricities of its master, and stood the shock bravely. Being appointed to lead the pack-horse, H.Miri seized its halter. Then the three cavaliers shook tlieir reins, and, waving their hands to tlieir comrades, they sprang into the woods at full gallop, and laid their course for the "far west." For some time they galloped side by side in silence, 56 THE DOG CRUSOE. ! I !.t! I I t 1 1- ■ ' 1 'I each occupied with his own thoughts, Crusoe keeping close beside his master's horse. The two elder hunters evidently ruminated on the object of their mission and the prospects of success, for their countenances were grave and their eyes cast on the ground. Dick Yarley, too, thought upon the Red-men, but his musings were deeply tinged with the bright hues of a Jirst adventure. The mountains, the plains, the Indians, the bears, the buffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildly before his mind's eye, and his blood careered through his veins and flushed his forehead as he thought of what he should see and do, and felt the elastic vigour of youth respond in sympathy to the light spring of his active little steed. He was a lover of nature, too, and his flashing eyes glanced observantly from side to side as they swept along — sometimes through glades of forest trees, sometimes tlirough belts of more open ground and shrubbery ; anon by the margin of a stream or along the shores of a little lake, and often over short stretches of flowering prairie-land — while the firm, elastic turf sent up a muffled sound from the tramp of their mettlesome chargers. It was a scene of wild, luxuriant beauty, that might almost (one could fancy) have drawn involuntary homage to its bountiful Creator from the lips even of an infidel. After a time Joe Blunt reined up, and they proceeded at an easy ambling pace. Joe and his friend Henri were so used to these beautiful scenes that they had long ceased to be enthusiastically affected by them, though they never ceased to delight in them. " I hope," said Joe, " that them sodgers '11 go their ■ i ad im, THE DOG CRUSOE. 57 ways soon. I've no notion o' theui chaps when they're left at a place wi' nothin' to do but whittle sticks." " Why, Joe ! " exclaimed Dick Varley in a tone of surprise, " I thought you were adniirin' the beautiful face o' nature all this time, and ye're only thinkin' about the sodgers. Now, that's strange ! " " Not so strange after all, lad," answered Joe. " When a man's used to a thing, he gits to admire an' enjoy it without speakin' much about it. But it is true, boy, that mankind 2fits in coorse o' time to think little o' the blissin's he's used to." " Oui, c'est vrai!" murmured Henri emphatically. "Woll, Joe Blunt, it may be so, but I'm thankful Ftn not used to this suit o' thing yet," exclaimed Varley. " Let's have another gallop — so ho ! come along, Crusoe ! " shouted the youth as he shook his reins and flew over a long stretch of praii'ie on which at that moment they entered. Joe smiled as he followed his enthusiastic companion, but after a short run he pulled up. " Hold on, youngster," he cried ; " ye must larn to do as ye're bid, lad. It's trouble enough to be among wild Injuns and wild buffaloes, as I hope soon to be, without havin' wild comrades to look after." Dick laughed, and reined in his panting horse, " I'll bo as obedient as Crusoe," he said, " and no one can beat liim." " Besides," continued Joe, "' the horses won't travel far if we begin by runnin' all the wind out o' them." "Wall!" exclaimed Henri, as the led horse became i il I I* 'i li j ■ ',; 58 THE DOG CRUSOE. restive ; " I think we must give to him de paek-hoss for to lead, eh ? " " Not a bad notion, Henri. We'll make that the penalty of runnin' oft' again ; so look out, Master Dick." " I'm down," replied Dick, with a modest air, " obe- dient as a baby, and won't run off again — till — the next time. By the way, Joe, how many days' provisions did ye bring ? " " Two. That's 'nough to carry us to the Great Prairie, which is three weeks distant from this. Our own good rifles must make up the diflerencc, and keep us when we get there." " And s'pose we neither fin(? ilecr nor buffalo," sug- gested Dick. " I s'pose well have to starve." " Dat is cumfer'able to tink upon," remarked Henri. " More comfortable to think o' than to undergo," said Dick ; " but I s'pose there's little chance o' that." " Well, not much," replied ^oe Blunt, patting his horse's neck, " but d'ye see, lad, ye niver can count for sartin on anythin'. The deer and buffalo ought to be thick in them plains at this time — and when the buffalo are thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly see the end o' them ; but, ye see, sometimes the rascally Redskins takes it into their heads to burn the prairies, and sometimes ye find the place that should ha' bin black wi' buffalo, black as a coal wi' fire for miles an' miles on end. At other times the Redskins go huntin' in 'ticlur places, and sweeps them clean o' every hoof that don't git away. Sometimes, too, the animals seems to take a scunner at a place, and keeps out o' the way. THE DOG CRUSOE. 59 But one way or another men ginrally manage to scramble through." " Look yonder, Joe," exclaimed Dick, pointing to the summit of a distant ridge, where a small black object was seen moving against the sky, " that's a deer, ain't it?" Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestly at the object in question. " Ye're right, boy ; and by good luck we've got the wind of him. Cut in an' take your chance now. There's a long strip o' wood as'll let ye git close to him." Before the sentence was well finished Dick and Crusoe were off at full gallop. For a few hundred yards they coursed along the bottom of a hollow ; then turning to the right they entered the strip of wood, and in a few minutes gained the edge of it. Here Dick dismounted. " You can't help me here, Crusoe. Stay where you are, pup, and hold my horse." Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastened to the horse's nose, in his moutJi, and lay down on a hillock of moss, suljuiissively placing his cliin on his forepaws, and watcl.'ing his master as he stepped noise- lessly throuoh the wood. In a few minutes Dick emerged from among the trees, and creeping from bush to bush, succeeded in getting to within six hundred yards of the deer, which was a l)eautiful little antelope. Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all was bare open ground, without a shrub or a hillock large enouo-h to conceal the hunter. There was a slio-ht un- dulation in the ground, however, which enabled him to I 1 1 I -i i ■i ? I ' t , I : I » 1 ' 60 THE DOG CRUSOE. advance about fifty j^arcls farther, by means of lying down quite fiat and working himself forward like a ser- pent. Farther than this he could not move without being seen by the antelope, which browsed on the ridge before him in fancied security. The distance was too great even for a long shot ; but ]3ick knew of a weak point in this little creature's nature which enabled him to accomplish his purpose — a weak point which it shares in common with animals of a higher order — namely, curiosity. The little antelope of the North American prairies is intensely curious about everything that it does not quite understand, and will not rest satisfied until it has endeavoured to clear up the mystery. Availing himself of this propensity, Dick did what both Indians and hunters are accustomed to do on these occasions — he put a piece of rag on the end of his ramrod, and keep- ing his person concealed and perfectly still, waved this miniature flag in the air. The antelope noticed it at once, and, pricking up its ears, began to advance, timidly and slowly, step by step, to see what remarkable phe- nomenon it could be. In a few seconds the flao- w^as lowered, a sharp crack followed, and the antelope fell dead upon the plain. " Ha, boy ! that's a good supper, anyhow," cried Joe, as he galloped up and dismounted. " Goot ! dat is better nor dried meat," added Henri. " Give him to me ; I will put him on my boss, vich is strongar dan 3'ourn. But ver is your boss ? " " He'll be here in a minute," replied Dick, putting his fingers to his mouth and giving forth a shrill whistle. ill ' ' ill. THE DOG CRUSOE. 61 The instant Crusoe heard the sound he made a savao'e and apparently uncalled-i'or dash at the horse's heels. This wild act, so contrary to the dog's gentle nature, was a mere piece of acting. He knew that the horse would not advance without oettinix a frii-ht, so he i^ave him one in this way, which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoe followed clo«e at his heels, so as to brintj the line alonc^- side of the nag s body, and thereby prevent its getting entangled ; but despite his best efforts the horse got on one side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely let go his hold of the line, and waited till more open ground enabled him to catch it again. Then he hung heavily back, gradually checked the horse's speed, and finally trotted him up to his master's side. " 'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Blunt in surprise. " Ah, Joe ! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet. He's as good as a man any day. I've done little else but train him for two years gone by, and he can do most anything but shoot — he can't handle the rifle nohow." " Ha ! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try," said Henri, plunging on to his horse with a laugh, and arranging the carcass of the antelope across the pommel of his saddle. Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted and ambled on through wood and plain all day, until the sun began to descend below the tree-tops of the bluffs on the v/est. Then Joe Blunt looked about him for a place on which to camp, and finally fixed on a spot under the shadow of a noble birch by the margin of a 62 THE DOG CRUSOE. f ^'1 little stream. The carpet of grass on its banks was soft like green velvet, and the rippling waters of the brook were clear as crystal — v^ery different from the muddy Missouri into which it flowed. While Dick Varley felled and cut up firewood, Henri unpacked the horses and turned them loose to graze, and Joe kindled the fire and prepared venison steaks and hot tea for supper. In excursions of this kind it is customary to " hobble " the horses — that is, to tie their fore-legs together, so that they cannot run either fast or far, but are free enough to amble about with a clumsy sort of hop in search of food. This is deemed a sufficient check on their tendency to roam, although some of the knowing horses sometimes learn to hop so fast with their hobbles as to give their owners much trouble to recapture them. But when out in the prairies where Indians are kn wn or supposed to be in the neighbourhood, the h'^rses are picketed by means of a pin or stake attached to the ends of their long lariats, as well as hobbled , for In- dians deem it no disgrace to steal or tell lies, though they think it disgraceful to be found out in doing either. And so expert are these dark-skinned natives of the western prairies, that they will creep into the midst of an enemy's camp, cut the lariats and hobbles of several hiorses, spring suddenly on their backs, and gallop away. They not only steal from white men, but tribes that are at enmity steal from each other, and the boldness with which they do this is most remarkable. When Indians are travelling in a country where enemies are prowling, they guard their camps at night with jealous 'I ;- jf't THE DOG CRUSOE. (i3 care. The horses in particular are both hobbled and picketed, and sentries arc posted all round the camp. Yet, in spite of these precautions, hostile Indians manage to elude the sentries and creep into the camp. When a thief thus succeeds in effecting an entrance, his chi(>f danger is past. He rises boldly to his feet, and wrap- ping his blanket or buffalo robe round him, he walks up and down as if he were a member of the tribe. At the .same time ho dexterously cuts the lariats of .such horses as he observes are not hobbled. He dare not stoop to cut the hobbles, as the action would be observed, and suspicion would be instantly aroused. He then leaps on the best horse he can find, and uttering a terrific war-whoop darts away into the plains, driving the loos- ened horses before him. No such dark thieves were supposed to be near the camp under the birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick, and Henri ate their supper in comfort, and let their horses browse at will on the rich pasturage. A brio-ht ruddv fire was soon kindled, which created, as it were, a little ball of light in the midst of surround- ing darkness for the special use of our hardy hunters. Within this magic circle all was warm, comfortable, and cheery ; outside all was dark, and cold, and dreary by contrast. When the substantial part of supper was disposed of, tea and pipes were introduced, and conversation began to flow. Tnen the three saddles were placed in a row ; each hunter wrapped himself in his blanket, and pillow- ing his head on his saddle, stretched his feet towards the fi]-e and went to sleep, with his loaded rifle by his u 1 1 ! ! i J I , 64 THE DOG CRUSOE. side and his hunting-knit 3 handy in his belt. Crusoe mDunted guard by stretching himself out couchant at Dick Varloy's side. The faithful dog slept lightly, and never moved all night ; but ha( . any one observed him closely he would have seen that every fitful flame that burst from the sinking fire, every unusual puff of wind, and every motion of the horses that fed or rested hard by, had the effect of revealing a speck of glittering white in Crusoe's watchful eye. I lil.! f I CHAPTER VI. The (jrcat prairies of the far west — A remarkable colony discovered, and a miserable niyht endured. OF all the hours of the night or clay the hour that succeeds the dawn is the purest, the most joyous, and the best. At least so think we, and so think hun- dreds and thousands of the human family. And so thought Dick Varley, as he sprang suddenly into a sitting posture next morning, and threw his arms with an exulting feeling of delight round the neck of Crusoe, who instantly sat up to greet him. This was an unusual piece of enthusiasm en the part of Dick ; but the dog received it with marked satisfac- tion, rubbed his big hairy cheek against that of his young master, and arose from his sedentary position in order to afford free scope for the use of his tail. " Ho ! Joe Blunt 1 Henri ! Up, boys, up ! The sun will have the start o' us. I'll catch the nags." So saying Dick bounded away into the woods, with Crusoe gambolling joyously at his heels. Dick soon caught his own horse, and (^rusoe caught Joe's. Then the former mounted and tjLuickly brought in the other two. Returning to the camp he found everything packed and ready to strap on the back of the pack-horse. o iJ^J I . 66 THE DOG CRUSOE. " That's the way to do it, lad," cried Joe. " Here, Henri, look alive and git ycr bca.st ready. I do believe ve'rc oroin' to take another snooze ! " Henri was indeed, at that moment, indulging in a ffioantic stretch and a cavernous vawn ; but he finished both hastily, and rushed at his poor horse as if he in- tended to slay it on the spot. He only threw the saddle on its back, however, and then threw himself on the saddle. " Now then, all ready ? " '' Ay "— " Qui, yis ! " And away they went at full stretch again on their journey. Thus day after day they travelled, and night after night they laid them down to sleep under the trees of the forest, until at length they reached the edge of the Great Prairie. It was a great, a memorable day in the life of Dick Varley, that on which he first beheld the prairie — the vast boundless prairie. He had heard of it, talked of it, dreamed about it, but he had never — no, he had never realized it. 'Tis always thus. Our conceptions of things that wo have not seen are almost invariably wrong. Dick's eyes glittered, and his heart swelled, and his cheeks flushed, and his breath came thick and quick. " There it is," he gasped, as the great rolling plain broke suddenly on his enraptured gaze ; " that's it — oh !— " Dick uttered a yell that would have done credit to the fiercest chief of the Pawnees, and being unable to utter another word, he swung his cap in the air and " Here, believe g in a inished he in- sadtlle on the n their it after irees of of the .f Dick e — the ked of lie had sptions -riably id, and quick. plain IS it — Klit to ible to ir and THE DOG CRUSOE. 07 1 sprang like an arrow from a bow over the mighty ocean of grass. The sun had just risen to send a Hood of golden glory over the scene, the horses were fresh, so the elder hunters, gladdened by the beauty of all around them, and inspired by the irresistible enthusiasm of their young companion, gave the reins to the horses and flew after him. It was a ghjrious gallop, that first headlong dash over the boundless prairie of the " far The prairies have often been compared, most justly, to the ocean. There is the same wide circle of space bounded on all sides by the horizon ; there is the same swell, or undulation, or succession of long low unbroken waves tliat marks the ocean when it is calm ; they are canopied by the same pure sky, and swept by the same untrammelled breezes. There are islands, too — chnnps of trees and willow -bushes — which rise out of this grassy ocean to break and relieve its uniformity ; and these vary in size and niimbers as do the isles of ocean, being numerous in some places, while in others they are so scarce that the traveller does not meet one in a loiiij: day's journey. Thousands of beautiful flowers decked the greensward, and numbers of little birds hopped about amonnf them. " Now, lads," said Joe Blunt, reining up, " our troubles begin to-day." "Our ti'oublcs ? — our joys, you mean!" exclaimed Dick Varley. " P'r'aps I don't mean nothin' o' the soi^t," retorted .loe. " Man wos never intended to swaller his joys without a strong nuxtnr' o' troubles. \ s'pose he " f ''' i J ¥ . I 1 it' > I t ,1 68 THE DOG CRUSOE. Ye see we've got to the couldn't stand 'em pure, prairie now — " " One blind hoss might see dat ! " interrupted Henri. '•' An' we may or may not diskiver buttalo. An water's scarce, too, so we'll need to look out for it pretty sharp, I guess, else we'll lose our horses, in which case we may as well give out at once. Besides, there's rattlesnakes about in sandy places, we'll ha' to look out for them ; an' there's badger holes, we'll need to look sharp for them lest the horses put their feet in 'em ; an' there's Injuns, who'll look out pretty sharp for us if they once get wind that we're in them parts." " Oui, yis. mes boys ; and there's rain, and tunder, and lightin'," added Henri, pointing to a dark cloud which was seen rising on the horizon ahead of them. " It'll be rain," remarked Joe ; " but there's no thun- der in the air jist now. We'll make for yonder clump o' bushes and lay by till it's past." Turning a little to the right of the course they had been following, the hunters galloped along one of the hollows between the prairie waves before mentioned, in the direction of a clump of M'illows. Before reaching it, however, they passed over a bleak and barren plain where there was neither flower nor bird. Here they were suddenly arrested by a most extraordinary sight — at least it wos so to Dick Varley, who had never seen the like before. This was a colony of what Joe called " prairie-dogs." On first beholding them Crusoe uttered a sort of half growl, half bark of surpi'ise, cocked his tail and ears, and instantly prepared to charge ; but lie glanced up at liis master first for permission. ()l)S(U'ving THE DOG CRUSOE. 69 had .f tlie led, in [clung plain they •ht— seen jailed Itered id his Lit he I'ving that his finger and his look coninianded " silence," he dropped his tail at once and stepped to the rear. He did not, however, cease to regard the prairie-dogs with intense curiosity. These remarkable little creatures have been egre- giously niisnaiiied by the hunters of the west, for they bear not the slin'htest resemblance to doo's, either in for- mation or habits. Tliey are, in fact, the marmot, and in size are little larger than scjuirrels, which animals they resemble in some degree. They l)urrow under the light soil, and throw it up in mounds like moles. Thousands of them wei'e ruiminu' about amonu" their dwellings when Dick first beheld them; Init tlie moment they caught sight of the horsemen rising over the ridge they set up a tremendous hubbub of consternation. Each little beast instantly mounted guard on tlie top of his house, and prepared, as it were, " to receive cavalry." The most ludicrous thing about tliem was that, "al- though the most timid and cowardly creatures in the world, they seemed the most impertinent things that ever lived ! Knowing that their holes afibrded them a perfectly safe retreat, they sat close beside them; and as the hunters slowly approached, they elevated their heads, wagged their little tails, showcl their teeth, and chat- tered at tliem like monkeys. Tl e nearer they came the more angry and fui'ious did the prairie-dogs become, until Dick Yarley almost fell oft' his horse with sup- pressed laughter. Tliey let the hunters come close up, waxing louder and louder in tlieir wrath ; but the in- stant a hand was raisevl to tluow a stone or point a gun, a thousand little heads dived into a thousand holes, 70 THE DOG CRUSOE. and a thousand little tails wriofclcd for an instant in t5t5' the air — then a dead silence reigned over the deserted scene. " Bicn, them's have dive into de bo'-els of de eart'," said Henri with a broad grin. Presently a thousand noses appeared, and nervously disappeared, like the wink of an eye. Then they ap- peared again, and a thousand pair of eyes followed. Instantly, like Jack in the box, they were all on the top of their hillocks again, chattering and wagging their little tails as vigorously as ever. You could not say that you saiv tlicni jump out of their holes. Suddc ly, as if by magic, they tuere out ; then Dick tossed up his arms, and suddenly, u,-. if by magic, they were gone ! Their number was incredible, and their cities were full of riotous activity. What their occupations were the hunters could not ascertain, but it was perfectly evident that they visited a great deal and gossiped tremendou ly, for they ran about from house to house, and sat chatting in groups ; but it was also observed that they ne\ er went far from their own houses. Each seemed to have a circle of acquaintance in the immediate neighbourhood of his own residence, to which in case of sudden danger he always fled. But another thing about these prairie-dogs (perhaps, considering their size, we should call them prairie- doggies), another thing about them, wo say, was that each doggie lived with nii owl, or, more correctly, an owl lived with each dooo-io ! This is such an extraor- dinary fdd that we could scarce hope that men would believe us, were our statement not supported by dozens THE DOG CRUSOE. 71 of trustworthy travellers who have visited and written about these regions. The whole plain was covered with these owls. Each hole seemed to be the residence of an owl and a doggie, and these incongruous couples lived together apparently in perfect harmony. We have not been able to ascertain from travellers v:hy the owls have gone to live with these doggies, so we beg humbly to offer our own private opinion to the reader. We assume, then, that owls find it absolutely needful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot dig holes for themselves. Having discovered, however, a race of little creatures that could, they very likely de- termined to take forcible possession of the holes made by them. Finding, no doubt, that when they did so tlie doggies were too timid to object, and discovering, moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little crea- tures, the owls resolved to take them into partnership, and so the thing was settled — that's how it came about, no doubt of it ! There is a report that rattlesnakes live in these holes also ; but we cannot certify our reader of the truth of this. Still it is well to be acquainted with a report that is current among the men of the backwoods. If it be true, we are of opinion that the doggie's family is the most miscellaneous and remarkable on the face of — or, as Henri said, in tlie bo'-els of the earth. Dick and his friends were so deeply absorbed in watching these curious little creatures that they did not oljsorve the rapid spread of the black clouds over the sky. A few heavy drops of rain now warned them to seek shelter, so wheeling round they dashed off at full "fT^^»^ ' ' j; 1 1 '■■ ■I' t ! ■ " ;| ], 1 72 THE DOG CRUSOE. speed for the clump of willows, which they gained just as the rain began to descend in torrents. " Now, lads, do it slick. Off packs and saddles," cried Joe Blunt, jumping from his horse. " I'll make a hut for ye, right off*." " A hut, Joe ! what sort o' hut can ye make here ? " inquired Dick. " Ye'U see, boy, in a minute." " Ach ! lend me a hand here, Dick ; de bockle am tight as de boss's own skin. Ah ! dere all right." " Hallo ! what's this ? " exclaimed Dick, as Crusoe advanced with something in his mouth. " I declare, it's a bird o' some sort." " A prairie-hen," remarked Joe, as Crusoe laid the bird at Dick's feet ; " capital for supper." " Ah ! dat chien is superb ! goot dog. Come here, I vill clap you." But Crusoe refused to be caressed. Meanwhile, Joe and Dick formed a sort of beehive-looking hut by bending down the stems of a tall bush and thrusting their points into the ground. Over this they threw the largest buffalo robe, and placed another on the ground below it, on which they .iid their packs of goods. These they further secured against wet by placing several robes over them and a skin of parchment. Then they sat down on this pile to rest, and consider what should be done next. " 'Tis a bad look-out," said Joe, shaking his head. " I fear it is," replied Dick in a melancholy tone. Henri said nothing, but he sighed deeply on looking up at the sky, which was now of a uniform watery gray, THE DOG CRUSOE. 73 while black clouds drove athwart it. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the wind began to sweep it in broad sheets over the plains, and under their slight cov- ering, so that in a short time they were w^et to the skin. The horses stood meekly beside them, with their tails and heads equally pendulous ; and Crusoe sat before his master, looking at him with an expression that seemed to say, " Couldn't you put a stop to this if you were to try ? " " This '11 never do. I'll try to git up a fire," said Dick, jumping up in desperation. " Ye may save yerself the trouble," remarked Joe dryly — at least as dryly as was possible in the circum- stances. However, Dick did try, but he failed signally. Every- thincj; was soaked and saturated. There were no laroe trees ; most of the bushes were green, and the dead ones were soaked. The coverings were slobbery, the skins they sat on were slobbery, the earth itself was slobbery ; so Dick threw his blanket (which was also slobbery) round his shoulders, and sat down beside his companions to grin and bear it. As for Joe and Henri, they were old hands and accustomed to such circumstances. From the first they had resigned themselves to their fate, and . wrapping their wet blankets round tliem sat down, side by side, wisely to endure the evils that they could not cure. There is an old rhyme, by whom composed we know not, and it matters little, which runs thus, — " For every evil under tlie sun There is a remedy — or there's none. ] t ! t IN ! ! I iij 'i 74 THE DOG CRUSOE. If there is — try and find it ; If there isn't— never mind it ! " There is deep wisdom here in small compass. The principle involved deserves to be heartily recommended. Dick never heard of the lines, but he knew the principle well, so he began to " never mind it " by sitting down beside his companions and whistling vociferously. As the wind rendered this a difficult feat, he took to sing- ing instead. After that he said, " Let's eat a bite, Joe, and then go to bed." "•Be all means," said Joe, who produced a mass of dried deer's meat from a wallet. " It's cold grub," said Dick, " and tough." But the hunters' teeth were sharp and strong, so they ate a hearty supper and A'ashed it down with a drink of rain water collected from a pool on the top of their hut. They now tried to sleep, for the night was ad- vancing, and it was so dark that they could scarce see their hands when held up before their faces. They sat back to back, and thus, in the form of a tripod, began to snooze. Joe's and Henri's seasoned frames would have remained stiff as posts till morning ; but Dick's body was young and pliant, so he hadn't been asleep a few seconds when he fell forward into the mud and effectually awakened the others. Joe gave a grunt, and Henri exclaimed, " Ilah ! " but Dick was too sleepy and miserable to say anything. Crusoe, however, rose up to show his sympathy, and laid his wet head on his master's knee as he resumed his place. This catastrophe happened three times in the space of an hour, and by the third time they were all awakened up so thoroughly I i THE DOG CRU80E. 76 that they gave up the attempt to sleep, r.nd amused each other by recounting their hunting experiences and telling stories. So engrossed did they become that day broke sooner than they had expected, and just in pro- portion as the gray light of dawn rose higher into the eastern sky did the spirits of tliese weary men rise within their soaking bodies. '! '' 111 I'll ! i p I; CHAPTER VII. The " wallcring" pcciiUaj'ities of buffalo bulls— The first buffalo hunt and Us consequences — Crusoe comes to the rescue — Pawnees discovered — A monster buffalo hunt — Joe acts the jmrt of ambassador. FORTUNATELY the clay that succeeded the dreary night described in the last chapter was warm and magnificent. The sun rose in a blaze of splendour, and filled the atmosphere with steam from the moist earth. The unfortunates in the wet camp were not slow to avail themselves of his cheering rays. They hung up everything on the bushes to dry, and by dint of extreme patience and cutting out the comparatively dry hearts of several pieces of wood, they lighted a fire and boiled some rain-water, which was soon converted into soup. This, and the exercise necessary for the performance of these several duties, warmed and partially dried them ; so that when they once more mounted their steeds and rode away, they were in a state of comparative comfort and in excellent spirits. The only annoyance was the clouds of mosquitoes and largo flies that assailed men and horses whenever they checked their speed. " I tell ye wot it is," said Joe Blunt, one fine morning about a week after they had begun to cross the prairie. ;/• l.:l:l THE DOG CRUSOE. 77 " it's my 'pinion tliat we'll come on buffaloes soon. Them tracks are fresh, an' yomler's one o' their wallers that's bin used not long aofone." "I'll go have a look at it,' cried ])ick, trotting away as he spoke. Everything in these vast prairies was new to Dick Varley, and he was kept in a constant state of excite- ment during the first week or two of his journey. It is true he was quite fandliar with the names and habits of all the animals that dwelt there; for many a time and oft had he listened to the " yarns " of the hunters and trappers of the Mustang Valley, when the}^ returned laden with rich furs from their periodical hunting ex- peditions. But this knowledge of his only served to whet his curiosity and his desire to see the denizens of the prairies with his own eyes ; and now that his wish was accomplished, it greatly increased the pleasures of his journey. Dick had just reached the " wallow " referred to by Joe Blunt, and had reined up his steed to observe it leisurely, when a faint hissing sound reached his ear. Looking quickly back, he observed his two companions crouching on the necks of their horses, and slowly de- scending into a hollow of the prairie in front of them, as if they wished to bring the rising ground between them and some object in advance. Dick instantly fol- lowed their example, and was soon at their heels. " Ye needn't look at the waller," whispered Joe, " for a' tother side o' the ridge there's a bull ivcdlerin'." "■ Ye don't mean it ! '' exclaimed Dick, as they all dis- mounted and picketed their horses to the plain. I ! li n ■ i I!! i'l : 78 THE DOG CRUSOE. ii ! " Oai," said Henri, tumbling oft' his horse, while a broad grin overspread his good-natured countenance, " it is one fact I One buftalo bull be wollerin' like a enormcirous liog. Also, dere be t'ousands o' buffaloes fardor on." " Can yo trust yer dog keepin' back ? " inquired Joe, with a dubious glance at Crusoe. " Trust him ! Ay, I wish I was as sure o' myself." " Look to yer primin', then, an' we'll have tongues and marrow bones for supper to-night, I'se warrant. Histi down on yer knees and go softly. We might ha' run them down on horseback, but it's bad to wind yer beasts on a trip like this, if ye can help it ; an' it's about as easy to stalk them. Leastways, we'll try. Lift yer head slowly, Dick, an' don't show more nor the half o t above the ridge." Dick elevated his head as directed, and the scene that met his view was indeed well calculated to send an electric shock to the heart of an ardent sportsman. The vast plain beyond was absolutely blackened with countless herds of buPi'aloos, which were browsing on the rich grass. They were still so far distant that their bellowing, and the trampling of their myi'iad hoofs, only reached the hunters like a faint murmur on the breeze. Tn the immediate foreground, however, there was a group of about half-a-dozen buil'alo cows feeding quietly, and in the midst of them an enormous old bull was enjo3 ing hiniself in his wallow. The animals, towards whicii our Iiunters now crept with murderous nitent, are the fiercest and the most ponderous of the ruminat- inu' inhabitants nf tlie western wilderness. The name of THE DOG CRUSOE. ro hittfdlo, howi^vcr, is not correct. Thv animal is the hii^ov, and bears no rcseniLlance whatever to the hiitt'alo pro- per ; but as the hunters of the far west, and, indeed, travellers generally, have adopted tlie misnomer, we bow to the authority of custom and adopt it too. Buflaloes roam in countless thousands all ovei* the North American prairies, from the Hudson Bay Ter- ritories, north of Canada, to tlie shores of the Gulf of Mexico. The advance of white men to the west lias driven them to the prairies between the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains, and has'somewliat dhninished their nundiers; but even thus diminished, they are still innumerabh^ in the more distant plains. Their colour is dark brown, but it varies a good deal with the seasons. Tlu' haii' or fur, from its great length in winter and spring and exposure to the weather, turns cpiite light but Avhen the winter coat is shed otl", the new growth is a beau- tiful dark brown, almost approaching to jet-black. In form the butlalo somewhat resembles the ox, but its head and shoulders are nnich larger, and are covered with a profusion of long shaggy hair which adds greatly to the fierce aspect of the animal. It has a larger hump on uhe shouhler, and its fore-quarters are much larger, in proportion, than thr hind-({uarters. The horns are short and thick, the hoofs are cloven, and the tail is shoi't, wiib a tuft of liair at the extremity. It is scarcely possible to conceive a wilder or more ferocious and terrible monster than a b lif'alo bull. He often grows to the enormous weight of two thousand pounds. His lion-like mane falls in shaggy confusion i ji i' ' 80 THE DOG CRUSOE. 1^ ! !.! i : i \i il li t i 1 ' '! quite over his head and shoulders, down to the ground. When he is Avounded he l)eeomes imbued with the spirit of a tiger : he stamps, bellows, roars, and foams forth his rage with glaring eyes and steaming nostrils, and charges furiously at man and horse with utter reckless- ness. Fortunately, however, he is not naturally pug- nacious, and can be easily thrown into a sudden panic. Moreover, the peculiar position of his eye renders this creature not so terrible as he would otherwise be to the hunter. Owing to the stiff structure of the neck, and the "sunken, dow^nward-looking eyeball, the buffalo can- not, without an effort, see beyond the direct line of vision presented to the habitual carriage of his head. When, therefore, he is wounded, and charges, he does so in a straight line, so that his pursuer can leap easily out of his way. The joace of the bulfhlo is clumsy, and (ipjiarcntly slow, yet, when chased, he dailies away over the plains in blind blundei'ing terror, at a rate that leaves all but good horses far behind. He cunnot ]:eep the pace up, however, and is usunJly soon overtaken. Were the buffalo capable of the same alert and agile motions of head and eye peculiar to the deoi* or wild horse, in addition to his " box'ine rage," he would bf the most formidable brute on earth. There is no object, perhaps, so terrible as the headlong advance of a herd of these animals when thoroughly aroused by terror. Tliey care not for their necks. All danger in front is forgotten, or not seen, in the terror of that from which they tly. No thundering cataract is more tremendously irresistible than the black ludlowing torrent which some- times pours through the narrow defiles of the Rocky THE DOG CRUSOE. 81 Mountains, or sweeps like a roaring flood over the trembling plains. The wallowing, to which we have referred, is a luxury usually indulged in during the hot months of sunnner, wlien the buffaloes are tormented by flies, and heat, and drought. At this season they seek the low grounds in the prairies where there is a little stagnant water lying amongst the grass, and the ground underneath, being saturated, is soft. The leader of the herd, a shaggy old bull, usually takes upon himself to prepare the wallow. It was a rugged monster of the largest size that did so on the present occasion, to the intense delight of Dick Varley, who begged Joe to lie still and watch the operation before trying to slioot one of the buffalo cows. Joe consented with a nod, and the four spec- tjitors — for Crusoe was as much taken up with the prc/ceedings as any of them — crouched in the grass, and looked on. Comiijg up to the swampy spot, the old bull gave a grunt of satisfaction, and going down on one knee, plunged his short thick horns into the mud, tore it up, and cast it aside. Having repeated this several times, he plunged his head in, and brought it forth saturated with dirty water and bedaubed with lumps of mud, through which his fierce C3^es gazed, with a ludicrous expression of astonishment, straight in the direction of the hunters, as if he meant to say, " I've done it that time, and no mistake!" The other bufl'aloos seemed to tliink HO too, for they camo up and looked on with an expression tliat seemed to say, " Well done, old fellow ; try that again ! " 6 ; i 1 \m n i ! « n n I 82 THE DOG CRUSOE. The old fellow did trv it aciain, and aoain, and ag-ain, plunging, and raniniino-, and tearing up the earth, until he formed an excavation laroe enough to contain his huge body. In this bath he laid hiii self comfortably down, and began to roll and wallow about until he mixed up a trough full of thin soft mud, which completely covered him. When he came out of the hole there was scarcely an atom of his former self visible ! The coat of mud thus put on by bulls is usually per- mitted by them to dry, and is not finally got rid of until long after, when oft-repeated rollings on the grass and washings by rain at length clear it away. When the old bull vacated this delectable bath, another bull, scarcely if at all less ferocious-looking, steppe d forward to take his turn ; but he was inter- rupted by a volley from the hunters, which scattered the animals right and left, and sent the mighty herds in the distance Hying over the prairie in wild terror. The very turmoil of their own mad flight added to their panic, and the continuous thunder of their hoofs was heard until the last of them disappeared on the horizon. The family party which had been fired at, however, did not escape so well. Joe's rifle wounded a fat young cow, and Dick Varley brought it down. Henri had done his best, but as the animals were too far distant for his limited vision, he missed the cow he fired at, and hit the young bull whose bath had been interrupted The others scattc^red and lied, " Well done, Dick," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as they all ran up to the cow that had fallen. " Your first shot at i . li .: 1 i again, , until in his rtably itil he which 3f the }r self ly per- rid of grass i!y all not at THP] DOG CRUSOE. m the bufiklo was a good un. Come, now, an' I'll show ye how to cut it up an' cany ott' the tit-bits." " Ah, uion dear olc Ijull ! " exclaimed Henri, gazing after the animal which he had wounded, and which was now limping .slowly away. " You is not worth goin' after. Farewell — adieu." " He'll be toii'4'h enouu'h, I warrant," said Joe ; " an' we've more meat here nor we can lift." " But woiddu't it be as well to put the poor brute out o' pain <'" suggested Dick. "Oh, he'll die soon enough," ^-eplied J-oc, tucking up his sleeves and (ha^vinl•• his lonLj huntinij'-knife. Hick, however, was not satisfied with this way of looking' at it. Saving that he would be back in a few minutes, he reloaded his rifle, and calKng Crusoe to his side, walked quickly after the woun's life in his hand. But let him who reads note well, and remember that there is only one coin that can purchase such love, and that is kindness. The coin, too, must be genuine. Kind- ness merely expressed will not do, it must be felt. *' Hallo, boy, ye've bin i' the wars ! " exclaimed Joe, raisiuii' himself from his task as Dick and Crusoe re- turned. " You look more like it than I do," retorted Dick, lauo'hinfj. This was true, for cutting up a buli'alo carcass with no other instrument than a large knife is no easy matter. Yet western hunters and Indians can do it without cleaver or saw, in a way that would surprise a civilized butcher not a little. Joe was covered with blood up to the elbows. His hair, happening to have a knack of iiettin*]^ into his eves, had been so often brushed off with bloody hands, that his whole visage was speckled with gore, and his dress was by no means innuacnlatc. While Dick related his adventure, or 77? ?*«-ad venture, with the bull, Joe and Henri completed the cutting out of the most delicate portions of the bu Halo— namely, the hump on its shoulder — 'Which is a choicer piece, much finer than the best b(>ef — and the tongue, and a few other parts. The tongues of buffaloes are supe- THE DOG CRUSOE. 87 lior to those of domestic cattle. When all was ready the meat was slung across the back of the pack-horse ; and the party, remounting their horses, continued their journey, having tirst cleansed themselves as well as they could in the rather dirty waters of an old wallow. " See," said Henri, turning to Dick and pointing to a circular spot of green as they i-odo along, " that is one old dry waller." '• Ay," remarked Joe ; " after the waller dries, it be- comes a ring o' greener grass than the rest o' the plain, as ye see. 'Tis said the first hunters used to wonder greatly at these myster'ous circles, and they invented all sorts o' stories to account for 'em. Some said they wos fairy-rings, but at last they comed to know they wos nothin' more nor less than places where buffaloes wos used to waller in. It's often seemed to me that if we knowed the raisons o' things, we wouldn't be so much puzzled wi' them as we are." The truth of this last remark was so self-evident and incontrovertible that it elicited no reply, and the three friends rode on for a considerable time in silence. It was now past noon, and they were thinking of cnlling a halt for a short rest to the horses and a pipe to themselves, when Joe was heard to give vent to one of those peculiar hisses that always accompanied either a surprise or a caution. In the present case it indi- cated both. " What now, Joe ? " •' Injuns ! " ejaculated Joe. " Eh ! fat }-ou say ? Ou is dey ? " Crusoe at this moment uttered a low cfrowl. Ever 1 1 I i-t ii! :, i ' I ; i 88 THE DOG CRUSOE. since the day he had been partially roasted he had maintained a rooted antipathy to Red-men. Joe im- mediately dismounted, and placing his ear to the ground listened intently. It is a curious fact that by placing the ear close to the ground sounds can be heard dis- tinctly which could not be heard at all if the listener were to maintain an erect position. " They're arter the buffalo," said Joe, rising, " an' I think it's likely they're a band o' Pawnees, Listen an' ye'U hear their shouts quite plain." Dick and Henri immediately lay down and placed their ears to the ground. " Now, me hear noting," said Henri, jumping up, " but me ear is like me eyes — ver' short-sighted." " I do hear something," said Dick as he got up, " but the beating o' my own heart makes row enough to spoil my hearin'." Joe Blunt smiled. " Ah ! lad, ye're young, an' yer blood's too hot yet ; but bide a bit — you'll cool down soon. I wos like you once. Now, lads, what think ye we should do ? " " You know best, Joe." " Oui, nodoubtedly." " Then wot I advise is that we gallop to the broken sand hillocks ye see yonder, get behind them, an' take a peep at the Redskins, If they are Pawnees, we'll go up to them at once ; if not, we'll hold a council o' war on the spot." Having arranged this, they mounted and hastened towards the hillocks in question, which they reached after ten minutes' gallop at full stretch. The sandy THE DOG CRUSOE. 89 mounds afforded them concealment, an«l enaMcnl tliom to watch the proceedings of the savages in the plain below. The scene was the most curious and exciting that can be conceived. Tlie centre of the plain before them was crowded with hundreds of buffaloes, which were dashing about in tlie most frantic state of alarm. To whatever point they galloped they were met by yelling savages on horseback, who could not have been fewer in numbers than a thousand, all being- armed with lance, bow, and quiver, and mounted on active little horses. The Indians had completely sur- rounded the herd of buffaloes, and were now advancing steadily towards them, gradually narrowing the circle, and whenever the terrified animals endeavoured to break through the line, they rushed to that particular spot in a body, and scared them back again into the centre. Thus they advanced until they closed in on their prey and formed an unbroken circle round them, wdiilst the poor brutes kept eddying and surging to and fro in a confused mass, hooking and climbing upon each other, and bellowing furiously. Suddenly the horse- men made a rush, and the work of destruction beoan. The tremendous turmoil raised a cloud of dust that obscured the field' in some places, and hid it from our hunters' view. Some of the Indians galloped round and round the circle, sending their arrows whizzing up to the feathers in the sides of the fattest cows. Others dashed fearlessly into the midst of the black heaving mass, and, with their long lances, pierced dozens of them to the heart. In many instances the buffaloes. iil m '^."t: IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) h A A ^ 1.0 ^1^ Ui I.I f "^ 1^ IL25 i 1.4 1.6 ibic Pbotograp; Sciences Corporation ^ i ^\ ^ :i>' # <> «> 13 t«IST MAIN STRUT WnSTIR.N.Y, 14SS0 (716) •73-4503 \ '«^ ^ i^^ '^^^ %° iff HP t i III 90 THE DOG CRUSOE. infuriated by wounds, turned fiercely on their assailants nntl j^^ored tht; horses to death, in which cases the men liad to trust to their nind)le legs for safety. Some- times a horse got jammed in the centre of the sway- ing mass, and could neither advance nor retreat. Then the savage rider leaped upon the buffaloes' backs, and springing from one to another, like an acrobat, gained the outer edge of the circle ; not failing, however, in his strang3 ilight, to pierce with his lance several of the fattest- of his stepping-stones as he sped along. A few of the herd succeeded in escaping from the blood and dust of this desperate battle, and made off over the plains ; but they were" quickly overtaken, and the lance or the arrow brought them down on the green turf. INlany of the dismounted riders were chased by bulls ; but they stepped lightly to one side, and, as the animals passed, drove their arrows deep into their sides. Thus the tumultuous war went on, amid thundering tread, and yell, and bellow, till the green plain was transformed into a sea of blood and mire, and every butlalo of the herd was laid low. It is not to be supposed that such reckless warfare is invariably waged without damage to the savages. ]\Iany were the wounds and bruises received that day, and not a few bones were broken, but happily no lives were lost. " Now, lads, now's our time. A bold and fearless look's the best at all tim(\s. Don't look as if yo (loubted their friendshi}) ; and mi. id, wotever ye do, don't use yer arms. Follow me." Saying this, Joe Blunt leapcid on his horse, and, THE ])()(; CKUSUE. 91 l)OUiKliiif( over tlie rklgo at full speed, galloped headluiig jici'oss the plain. The savages observed tlie sti'aiigors iiistaiitly, and a loud yell announced the fact as they assenihU'd I'l'oni all parts of the field brandishing their bows and s])ears. Joe's quick eye soon distinguish('(l their chi(d', towards whom he galloped, still at full speed, till within a yard or two of his horse's liead ; then he reined up suddenly. So rapidly did »!()(' antl his coiurjides a])pr()ach, and so instantaneously ak the Pawn(H3 tongue iluently, began by explaining the object of Ids visit, and spoke of the presents which he had brought for the gr(Mit chief; Imt it was evident that his words made liltle impression As ho discoursed to them the savages t % ^' h! I I t 92 THE DOG CRUSOE. I ' crowded round the little party, and began to handle and examine their dresses and weapons with a degree of rudeness that caused Joe considerable anxiety. " Mahtawa believes that the heart of the Pale-face is true," said the savage, when Joe paused, " but he does not choose to make peace. The Pale-faces are grasping. They never rest. They turn their eyes to the great mountains and say, ' There we will stop.' But even there they will not stop. They are never satisfied ; Mahtawa knows them well." This speech sank like a death-knell into the hearts of the hunters, for they knew that if the savages refused to make peace, they would scalp them all and appro- priate their goods. To make things worse, a dark- visaged Indian suddenly caught hold of Henri's rifle, and, ere he was aware, had plucked it from his hand. 'J'lie blood rushed to the Q-io-antic hunter's forehead, and he was on the point of springing at the man, when Joe said in a deep quiet voice, — " Be still, Henri. You will but hasten death." At this moment there was a movement in the out- skirts of the circle of horsemen, and another chief rode into the midst of them. He was evidently higher in rank than Mahtawa, for he spoke authoritatively to the crowd, and stepped in before him. The hunters drew little comfort from the ap])earance of his face, how- ever, for it scowled upon them. He was not so power- ful a man as ^lahtawa, but he was more gracefully formed, and had a more noble and commanding coun- tenance. " Have the Pale-faces no wigwams on the great river THE DOG CHUSOi:. 93 that they should come to spy out tlie lands of the Pawnee <' " he demanded. " We hav^> not come to .vpy your country," answered Joe, raising himsolf proudly as he spoke, and taking ott* his cap. " We have come with a message from the gicat chief of the Pale-faces, who lives in the village far Ijeyond the great river where the sun rises, lie says, Why .should the Pale-face and the lled-man fight ^ They are brothers. The same j\lanitou * watches over both. The i'ale-faces have more beads, and guns, and olankcts, and knives, and veiniilion than they recpiire ; they wisli to mvc some of these things for the skins and furs which the Red-man does not know what to do with. The great chief of the Pale-faces lias sent me to say, Why should we fight ? let us smoke the pipe of peace." At the mention of beads and blankets the face of the wily chief brightened for a moment. Then he said sternly, — " The heart of the Pale-face is not true. He has come here to trade for himself. San-it-sa-rish lias eyes that can see ; they are not shut. Are not these your goods ? " The chief pointed to the pack-horse as he spoke. " Trappers do not take their goods into the lieart of an enemy's camp," returned Joe. " San-it-sa-rish is wise, and will understand this. These are gifts to the chief of the Pawnees. There are more awaiting hikii when the pipe of peace is smoked. I have said. What niessaufe shall we take back to the iireat chief of the Pale-faces ? " 1 il TIr' Tndiiin nanio fi)r God. Hi 94 THE DOr; CRUSOE. San-it-sa-ri.sli was evidently mollified. " The luintin'one. Either our hero's knowledi-'c of the Indian lanouaiie was insufficient to enable him to understand the onler, or he had resolved not to obey it, for instead of retreat- ing, he drew a deep i^in-gliiip- Invath, curled his nose, and displayed a row of teeth that caused the old woman to draw back in alarm. Crusoe's was a forgiving spirit. 1 istant that opposition ceased he forgot the injury, and was meekly advancing, wdien Dick held up his linger. " Go outside, pup, and wait." Crusoe's tail drooped ; with a deep sigh he turned and left the tent. He took up a position near the en- trance, however, and sat down resignedly. So meek, indeed, did the poor dog look that six mangy-looking curs felt tlicir dastardly hearts emboldened to make a rush at him with boisterous yells. Crusoe did not rise. Ho did not even condescend to turn his hoatl toward them ; but he looked at them out of the corner of his dark eye, wrinkled — very slightly — the skin of his nose, exhibited two beautiful fangs, and gave utterance to a soft remark, that might be de- THE DOG CRUSOE. 00 vo a ngs, de- scribed as quiet, deep-toned gurgling. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough for the valiant six, who paused and snarled violently. It was a peculiar trait of Crusoe's gentle nature that, the moment any danger ceased, he resumed his expres- sion of nonchalant gravity. The expression on this occasion was misunderstood, however ; and as about two dozen additional yelping dogs had joined the ranks of the enemy, they advanced in close order to the attack, Crusoe still sat (piict, and kept his head high; but he looked at them again, and exhibited four' fangs for their inspection. Among the pack there was one Indian dog of laro-o size — almost as large as Crusoe Ir'mself — which kept well in the rear, and apparently urged the lesser dogs on. The little dogs didn't object, for little dogs are generally the most pugnacious. At this big dog Crusoe directed a pointed glance, but said nothing. Meanwhile a particularly small and vicious cur, with a mere rag of a tail, crept round by the back of the tent, and coming upon Crusoe in rear, snapped at his tail sharply, and then fled shrieking with terror and sur- prise, no doubt, at its own temerity, Crusoe did not bark ; he seldom barked ; he usually either said nothing, or gave utterance to a prolon^^ed roar of indignation of the most terrible character, with barks, as it were, mingled through it. It somewhat resembled that peculiar and well-known species of thun- der, the prolonged roll of which is marked at short intervals in its course by cannon-like cracks. It was a continuous, but, so to speak, knotted roar. On receiving the snap, Crusoe gave forth the roar m is ' 11 i I ? J 'J '^ »i 1 : 1 : 100 THE DOr, CRUSOE. with a majesty and power that scattered the pugnacious front rank of the enemy to the winds. Tliose tluit still remained, half stupifie, i I (■ i 1 I I 128 THE DOG CRUSOE. Dick now led the way through tlio labj^rinths of tents in the direction of the lake, and they talked and laughed loudly, and whistled to Crusoe as they \vent, in order to prevent their purpose being suspected. For the purpose of further disarming suspicion, they went without their rifles. Dick explained his plan by the way, and it was at once warndy approved of by his comrades. On reaching the lake they launched a small canoe, into which Crusoe was ordered to jump ; then, embark- ing, they paddled swiftly to the opposite shore, singing a canoe song as they dipped their paddles in the moon- lit waters of the lake. Arrived at the other side, they hauled the canoe up and hurried through the thin belt of wood and willows that intervened between the lake and the prairie. Here they paused. " Is that the bluff, Joe ? " " No, Dick ; that's too near. T'other one '11 be best^ far away to the right. It's a little one, and there's others near it. The sharp eyes o' the Redskins won't be so likely to be prowlin' there." " Come on, then ; but w e'll have to take down by the lake first." In a few minutes the hunters were threading their vv^ay through the outskirts of the wood at a rapid trot, in the opposite direction from the bluff", or wooded knoll, which they wished to reach. This they did lest prying eyes should have followed them. In (quarter of an hour they turned at right angles to their track, and struck straight out into the prairie, and after a long run they edged round and came in upon the blufl' from behind. THE DOG CRUSOE. 129 It was merely a collection of stunted but thick-orowinir willows. Forcing tlieir way into the centre of this they began to examine it. " It'll do," said Joe. " De very ting," remarked Henri. " Come here, Crusoe." Crusoe bounded to his master's side, and looked up in his face. " Look at this place, pup ; smell it well." Crusoe instantly set oti" all round among the willows, in and out, snuffino- everywhere, and whinino- with excite- 'Oft/' o ment. " Come here, good pup ; that will do. Now, lads, we'll go back." So saying, Dick and his friends left the blutt', and retraced their steps to the camp. Before they had gone far, however, Joe halted, and said, — " D'ye know, Dick, I doubt if the pup's so cliver as ye think. What if he don't quite onderstand ye ? " Dick replied by taking oft' his cap and throwing it down, at the same time exclaiming, " Take it yonder, pup," and pointing with his hand towards the bluff". The dog seized the cap, and went off" with it at full speed towards the willows, where it left it, and came galloping back for the expected reward — not noWj as in days of old, a bit of meat, but a gentle stroke of its head and a hearty clap on its shaggy side. ' Good pup ! go now an' fetch it." Away he went with a bound, and in a few seconds came back and deposited the cap at his master's feet. " Will that do ? " asked Dick, triumphantly. 9 iij 130 THE DOG CRUSOE. I I .1 ; "Ay, lad, it will. The pup's worth its weight in goold." " Oui, I have said, and I say it agen, de dog is human, so him is. If not, fat am he ? " Without pausing to reply to this perplexing question, Dick stepped forward again, and in half -an -hour or so they were back in the camp. " Now for your part of the w^ork, Joe. Yonder 's the squaw that owns the half-drowned baby. Everything depends on her." Dick pointed to the Indian woman as he spoke. She was sitting beside her tent, and playing at her knee was the identical youngster whj had been saved by Crusoe. " I'll manage it," said Joe, and walked towards her, while Dick and Henri returned to the chiefs tent. " Does the Pawnee woman tliank the Great Spirit that her child is saved ? " began Joe as he came up. " She does," answered the woman, looking up at the hunter. " And her heart is warm to the Pale-faces." After a short silence Joe continued, — " The Pawnee chiefs do not love the Pale-faces. Some of them hate them." "The Dark Flower knows it," answered the woi.ian; " she is sorry. She would help t)ie Pale-faces if she could." This was uttered in a low tone, and with a meaning glance of the eye. Joe hesitated again — could he trust her ? Yes ; the feelings that filled her breast an('» prompted her words were noi those of the Indian just now — they were THE TlOG CRUSOE. VM m rcls ere those of a mother, whose gmtitude was too full for utterance. " Will the Dark Flower," said Joe, catching the name she had given herself, " help the Pale-face if he opens his heart to her ? Will she risk the ani>er of her nation ? " " She will," replied the woman ; " she will do what she can." Joe and his dark friend now dropped theii high- sounding style of speech, and spoke for some minutes rapidly in an undertone. It was finally arranged that on a given day, at a certain hour, the woman should take the four horses down the shores of the lake to its lower end, as if she were going for firewood, there cross the creek at the ford, an 1 drive them to the willow blufi', and guard tliem till the Inuiters should arrive. Having settled this, Joe returned to the tent and infojiued his comrades of his success. During the next three days Joe kept the Indians in good-humour by giving them one or two trinkets, and speaking in glowing terms of the richi^s of the white men, and the readiness with which tii' y would part with them to the savages if they would only make peace. Meanwhile, during the dark liours of each night, Dick managed to abstract small quantities of goods from their pack, in room of v^icli he stuffeubt THE DOG CRUSOE. 185 ■ his friends '11 find him in a day or two, an' he's game to last for a week or more. But you'll hav^e to run to the willow blufi* Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him. We can't spare it well ; but there's no help." " But there is help," retorted Dick. " Just order the villain to climb into that tree." " Why so, lad ? " " Don't ask questions, but do what I bid ye." The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the Indian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree near to which he stood. Mahtawa looked surprised, but there was no alternative Joe's authoritative tone brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey. " Crusoe," said Dick, " watck hhii ! " The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and lixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things. At the same time he displayed his full complement of teeth, and uttered a sound like distant thunder. Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh out- right. " Come along ; he's safe now," cried Dick, hurrying away in the direction of the willow bluff', which they soon reached, and found that the faithful squaw had tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, had bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on the back of the pack-horse ; but she had not remained with them. " Bless yer dark face ! " ejaculated Joe, as he sprang into the saddle and rode out of the clump of bushes. i li I I I (! f! 136 THE DOG CRUSOE. He was followed immediately by the others, and in three minutes they were flying over the plain at full speed. On gaining the last fai'-off ridge, that afforded a distant view of the woods skirting the Pawnee camp, they drew up ; and Dick, putting his fingers to his mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle. It reached the willow bluff' like a faint echo. At the same moment the moon arose and more clearly revealed Crusoe's cataleptic glare at the Indian chief, who, being utterly unarmed, was at the dog's mercy. The instant the whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes, covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flew over the plains like an arrow. At the same instant Mahtawa, descending from his tree, ran as fast as he could towards the village, uttering the terrible war- whoop when near enough to be heard. No sound sends such a thrill through an Indian camp. Every warrior flew to arms, and vaulted on his steed. So quickly was the alarm given that in less than ten minutes a thousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, and faintly reached the ears of the fugitives. Joe smiled. " It'll puzzle them to come up wi' nags like ours. They're in prime condition, too — lots o' wind in 'em. If we only keep out o' badger holes we may laugh at the red varmints." Joe's opinion of Indian horses was correct. In a very few minutes the sound of hoofs died away ; but the fugitives did not draw bridle during the remainder of that night, for they knew not how long the pursuit might be continued. By pond, and brook, and bluff' I ■J> i THE DOG CRUSOE. 137 they passed, clown in the grassy bottoms and over the pran-ie waves— nor checked their headlong course till the sun blazed over the level sweep of the eastern plain as if it arose out of the mighty ocean. Then they sprang from the saddle, and hastily set about the preparation of their morning meal. I I ' { 4 ri 1 ' ! ii CHAPTER XL Eirnnif) nirditfitinjin and morning reflections — Buffaloes, l/tah/crs, antdopm, and accidents — Aii, old bull and the loolves—'''' Mad tails" — Henri floured, etc. THERE is nothing that prepares one so well for the enjoyment oi* rest, botli mental and physical, as a long-protracted period of excitement and anxiety, fol- lowed up by bodily fatigue. Excitement alone banishes rest ; but, united with severe physical exertion, it pre- pares for it. At least, courteous reader, this is our experience ; and certainly this was the experience uf our three hunters as they lay on their backs beneath the branches of a willow bush and gazed serenely up at the twinkling stars two days after their escape from the Indian village. They spoke little ; they were too tired for that, also they were too comfortable. Their respective suppers of fresh antelope steak, shot that day, had just been dis- posed of. Their feet were directed towards the small tire on which the said steaks had been cooked, and which still threw a warm, ruddy glow over the encamp- ment. Their blankets were wrapped comfortably round them, and tucked in as only hunters and mothers know liov) to tuck them in. Their respective pipes delivered forth, at stated intervals, three richly yellow puffs of THE DOG CRUSOE. 139 le le \ smoke, as if a three-gun battery were playing upon the sky from that particular spot of earth. The horses were picketed and liobbled in a rich grassy bottom close by, from which the quiet munch of their equine jaws sounded pleasantly, for it told of healthy appetites, and promised speed on the morrow. The fear of being overtaken during the night was now past, and the faithful Crusoe, by virtue of sight, hearing, and smell, cjuaranteed them against sudden attack durinij the hours of slumber. A perfume of wild flowers mingled with the loved odours of the " weed," and the tinkle of a tiny rivulet fell sweetly on their ears. In shoi't, the " I'ale-faces " were supr'^- ely happy, and disposed to be thankful for their recent deliverance and their present comforts. " I wonder what the stars are," said Dick, languidly taking the pipe out of his mouth. " Bits o' fire," suggested Joe. " I tink dey are vorlds," muttered Henri, " an' have peepels in dem. I have hear men say dat." A long silence followed, duruig which, no doubt, the .star-gazers were working out various theories in their own minds. " Wonder," said Dick again, " how far off they be." " A mile or two, maybe," said Joe. Henri was about to lauiih sarcastically at this, but on fiu'ther consideratiori he thought it would be more comfortable not to, so he lay still. In another minute he said, — " Joe Blunt, you is ver' igrant. Don't you know dat de books say de stars be hondreds, tousands — oh 1 I ; '1 I i u ■-■ I i ■;! 91 li! 140 THE DOG CRUSOE milleryons of mile away to here, and dat dey is more bigger dan dis vorld ? " Joe snored liglitly, and his pipe fell out of his mouth at this point, so the conversation dropped. Presently Dick asked in a low tone, " I say, Henri, are ye asleep ? " " Oui," replied Henr}' faintly. " Don't speak, or you vill vaken me." " Ah, Crusoe ! you're not asleep, are you, pup ?" No need to ask that question. The instantaneous wag of that speaking tail and the glance of that wakeful eye, as the dosx lifted his head and laid his chin on Dick's arm, showed that he had been listening to every word that was spoken. We cannot say whether he under- stood it, but beyond all doubt he heard it. Crusoe never presumed to think of going to sleep until his master was as sound as a top, then he ventured to indulge in that light species of slumber which is familiarly known as "sleeping with one eye open." But, comparatively as well as figuratively speaking, Crusoe slept usually with one eye and a half open, and the other half was never very tightly shut. Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, an event which the dog, with an exercise of instinct al- most, if not quite, amounting to reason, regarded as a signal for him to go off. The camp lire went slowly out, the stars twinkled down at their reflecHons in the brook, and a deep breathing of wearied men was the only sound that rose in harmony with the purling stream. Before the sun rose next morning, and while many of THE DOG CRUSOE. 141 the brighter stars were still struggling for existence with the approaching clay, Joe was up and buckling on the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling com- panions to rise. " If it depended on you," he said, " the Pawnees wouldn't be long afore they got our scalps. Jump, ye dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye ? " A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was the answer to this pathetic appeal. It so happened, however, that Henri's pipe, in falling from his lips, had emptied the ashes just under his nose, so that the sigh referred to drew a quantity thereof into his throat and almost choked him. Nothing could have been a more effective awakener. He was up in a moment coughing vociferously. Most men have a tendency to vent ill- humour on some one, and they generally do it on one whom they deem to be worse than themselves. Henri, therefore, instead of growling at Joe for rousing him, scolded Dick for not rising. " Ha, mauvais dog ! bad chien ! vill you dare to look to me ? " Crusoe did look with amiable placidity, as though to say, " Howl away, old boy, I won't budge till Dick does." With a mighty effort Giant Sleep was thrown off at last, and the hunters were once more on their journey, cantering lightly over the soft turf. " Ho, let's have a run ! " cried Dick, unable to repress the feelings aroused by the exhilarating morning air. " Have a care, boy," cried Joe, as they stretched out at full gallop. •' Keep off the ridge ; it's riddled wi Ha 11 i badger — I thought so." t' 1 I m ■ H i f i 142 THE DOG CRUSOE. At tliat moment Dick's horse put its foot into a baclger-hole and turned completely over, sending its rider throuoh the air in a curve that an East Indian acrobat would have envied. For a few seconds Dick lay fiat on his back, then he jumped up and laughed, while his comrades hurried up anxiously to his assistance. " No bones broi^e ? " inquired Joe. Dick gave a hysterical gasp. " I — I think not." " Let's have a look. No, nothin' to speak o', be good luck. Ye should niver go slap through a badger country. like that, boy ; always keep i' the bottoms, where the grass is short. Now then, up ye go. That's it ! " Dick remounted, though not with quite so elastic a spring as usual, and they pushed forward at a more reasonable pace. Accidents of this kind are of common occurrenc the prairies. Some horses, however, are so well trained that they look sharp out for these holes, which are gen- erally found to be most numerous on the high and dry grounds. But in spite of all the caution both of man and horse many ugly falls take place, and sometimes bones are broken. They had not gone far after this accident when an antelope leaped from a clump of willows, and made for a belt of woodland that lay along the margin of a stream not half-a-mile off. "Hurrah!" cried Dick, foro-ettino- his recent fall. " Come along, Crusoe." And away they went again full tilt, for the horse had not been injured by its somersault. The antelope which Dick was thus wildly pursuing I in )r In i I THE DOG CRU.SOE. 143 was of the same .species as the one he had shot sonic time before — namely, the prong-horned antelope. These graceful creatures have long, slender limbs, delicately- formed heads, and large, beautiful eyes. The horns are black, and rather short; they have no branches, like the antlers of the red-deer, but have a single projection on each horn, near the head, and the extreme points of the horns curve suddenly inwards, forming the hook or prong from which the name of the animal is derived. Their colour is dark yellowish brown. They are so fleet that not one hoi-se in a hundred can overtake them ; and their sight and sense of smell are so acute that it would be next to impossible to kill them, were it not for the inordinate curiosity which we have before referred to. The Indians manage to attract these simple little creatures by merely lying down on their backs and kicking their heels in the air, or by waving any white object on the point of an arrow, while the hunter keeps concealed by lying flat in the grass. By these means a herd of antelopes may bo induced to wheel round and round an object in timid but intense surprise, gradually approaching until they come near enough to enable the hunter to make sure of his mark. Thus the animals, which of all others oufjld to be the most difficult to slay, are, in consequence of their insatiable curiosity, more easily shot than any other deer of the plains. May we not gently suggest to the reader for his or her consideration that there are human antelopes, so to speak, whose case bears a striking tesemblance to the prong-horn of the North American prairie ? i ii n fi-: : ! ' I 1| I :l! I i V\\ ^1 144 THE DOG CRUSOE. Dick's horse was no match for the antelope, neither was Crusoe ; so they pulled up shortly and returned to their companions, to be laughed at. " It's no manner o' use to win'l yer horse, lad, after sich game. They're not much worth, an', if I mistake not, we'll be among the buffalo soon. There's fresh tracks everywhere, and the herds are scattered now. Yc see, when they keep together in bands o' thousands ye don't so often fall in wi' them. But when they scatters about in twos, an' threes, an' sixes, ye may shoot them every day as much as ye please." Several groups of buffalo had alieady been seen on the horizon, but as a red -deer had been shot in a belt of woodland the day before they did not pursue them. The red-deer is very much larger than the prong-horned antelope, and is highly esteemed both for its flesh and its skin, which latter becomes almost like chamois leather when dressed. Notwithstanding this supply of food, the 1 unters could not resist the temptation to give chase to a herd of about nine buffaloes that suddenly came into view as they overtopped an undulation in the plain. " It's no use," cried Dick, ' T must go at them ! " Joe hnnself caught fire from the spirit of his young friend, so calling to Henri to come on and let the pack- horse remaii\ to feed, he dashed away in pursuit. The buffaloes gave one stare of surprise, and then fled as fast as possible. At first it seemed as if such huge, un- wieldy carca.sses could not run very fast; but in a few minutes they managed to get up a pacj that put the horses to their mettle. Indeed, at first it seemed as if THE DOG CRUSOE. 146 if the himter.s did not gain an inch ; but by deg-rees they closed with them, for bnttaloes are not long winded. On nearino- the herd, the three men divercjed from each other and selected their animals. Henri, being short-sighted, naturally singled out the largest ; and the largest — also naturally — was a tough old bull. Joe brought down a fat young cow at the first shot, and Dick was equally fortunate. But he well-nigh shot Crusoe, who, just as he was about to fire, rushed in un- expectedly and sprang at the animal's throat, for which piece of recklessness ho was ordered back to watch the pack-horse. Meanwhile, Henri, by dint of yelling, throwing his arms wildly about, and digging his heels into the sides of his long-legged horse, succeeded in coming close up with the bull, which once or twice turned his clumsy body half round and glared furiously at its pursuer with its small black eyes. Suddenly it stuck out its tail, stopped short, and turned full round. Henri stopped short also. Now, the sticking out of a bufifalo's tail has a peculiar significance which it is well to point out. It serves, in a sense, the same purpose to the hunter that the compass does to the mariner — it points out where to go and what to do. When galloping away in ordinary fiight, the buft'alo carries his tail like ordinary cattle, which indicates that you may push on. When wounded, he lashes it from side to side, or carries it over his back, up in the air ; this indicates, " Look out ! haul ofi' a bit'!" But when he carries it stiff and horizontal, with a dighf curve in the middle of it, it says plainly, " Keep back, or kill nic as quick as you can," for that is what 10* w HI I . I ; ;! ; ! i, ;! d 146 THE DOG CRUSOE. Indians call the mad tail, and is a sign that mischief is brewing. Henri's bull displayed the mad tail just before turning, but he didn't observe it, and, accordingly, waited for the bull to move and show his shoulder for a favourable shot. But instead of doing this he put liis head down, and, foamino; Avith raoe, went at him full tilt. The biix horse never stirred ; it seemed to be petrified. Henri had just time to fire at the monster's neck, and the next moixient was sprawling on his back, with the horse roll- ing over four or five j^ards beyond him. It was a most effective tableau — Henri rubbino- his shins and cTinning with pain, the horse gazing in afi'right as he rose -trem- bling from the plain, and the bufialo bull looking on half stunned, and evidently very much surprised at the result of his charge. Fortunately, before he could repeat the experiment, Dick galloped up and put a ball through his heart. Joe and his comrades felt a little ashamed of their exploit on this occasion, for there was no need to have killed three animals — they could not have carried with them more than a small portion of one — and they up- braided themselves several times dining the operation of cutting out the tongues and other choice portions of the two victims. As for the bull, he was almost totally useless, so they left him as a gift to the wolves. Now that they had come among the buffalo, wolves were often seen sneaking about and licking their hungry jaws; but although tJiey approached pretty near to the camp at nights, tliey did not give the hunters any con- cern. Even Crusoe became accustomed to them at last, THE DOG CRUSOE. 147 and ceased to notice them. These creatures are very dangerous sometimes, however, and when hard pressed by hunger will even attack man. The day after this hunt the travellers came upon a wounded old buflalo which had evidently escaped from the Indians (for a couple of arrows were sticking in its side), only to fall a prey to his deadly enemies, the white wolves. These savaoe brutes hano- on the skirts of the herds of buffaloes to attack and devour any one that may chance, from old age or from being wounded, to linger behind the rest. The butlalo is tough and fierce, however, and fights so desperately that, although surrounded by fifty or a hundred wolves, he keeps up the unecpial combat for several days before he finally succumbs. The old bull that our travellers discovered had evi- dently been long engaged with his ferocious adver- sai'ies, for his limbs and flesh were torn in shreds in many places, and blood was streaming from his sides. Yet he had foufjlit so •iuiiantlv that he had tossed and stamped to death dozens of tl^c enemy. There could not have been fewer than fifty wolves round him; and they had just concluded another of many futil' attacks when tlio hunters came up, for they weiv innged in a circle round their huge adversary — some h'^^S <^^o^^'*b some sitting on their haunches to rest, and othors sneak- ing about, lolling out their red tongues and ' -king their chops as if impatient to renew the combat. The poor buffalo was nearly spent, and it was clear that a few hours more would see him torn to shreds and his bones picked clean. "Ugh ! de brutes," ejaculated Henri. I ; i i iV (li*. ■s m Hf.! s i I I i) ii' ^1 4 148 THE DOG CRUSOE. " They don't seem to mind us a bit," remarked Dick, as they rode up to within pistol shot. " It'll be merciful to give the old fellow a shot," said Joe. "Them varmints are sure to finish him at last." Joe raised his rifle as he spoke, and fired. The old bull gave his last groan and fell, while the wolves, alarmed by the shot, fled in all directions ; but they did not run far. They knew w^ell that some portion, at least, of the carcass Avould tall to their share ; so th^v sat. down at various distances all round, to wait as patiently as they might for the hunters to retire. Dick left the scene wdth a feelino- of rec^ret that the villanous wolves should have their feast so much sooner than they expected. Yet, after all, why should we call these wolves vil- lanous ? They did nothing wrong — nothing contrary to the laws of their peculiar nature. Nay, if we come to reason upon it, they rank higher in this matter than man; for while the wolf does no violence to the laws of its instincts, man often deliberately silences the voice of conscience, and violates the laws of his own nature. But we will not insist on the term, good reader, if you object .strongly to it. We are willing to admit that the wolves are not villanous, but, assuredly, they are un- lovable. In the course of the afternoon th(^ tliree horsemen reached a small creek, the banks of which were lined with a few stunted shrubs and trees. Having eaten nothing since the night before, they dismounted here to " feed," as Joe expr(\ssed it. " Cur'oUH thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a light THE DOG CRUSOE. 149 by means of flint, steel, and tinder-box — " cur'ous thing that we're made to need sich a lot ' ' grub. If we could only get on like the sarpints, now, wot can breakfast on a rabbit, and then wait a montli or two for dinner ! Ain't it cur'ous ? " Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow the fire into a blaze. Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stood speechless, with his mouth open. " What's the matter ? what is't ? " cried Dick and Joe, seizing their rifles instinctively, " De — grub — him — be — forgat ! ' There was a look of blank horror, and then a burst of laughter from Dick A^arley. " Well, well," cried he, " we've got lots o' tea an' sugar, an' some flour ; we can git on wi' that till we shoot another buflfalo, or a — ha!" Dick observed a wild turkey stalking among the willows as he spoke. It was fully a hundred yards ofl* and only its head was seen above the leaves. This was a matter of little moment, however, for by aiming a little lower he knew that he must hit the body. But Dick had driven the nail too often to aim at its body ; he aimed at the bird's eye, and cut its head ofl*. " Fetch it, Crusoe." In three minutes it was at Dick's foet, and it is not too much to say that in Ave minutes more it was in the pot. As this unexpected supply made up for the loss of the meat which Henri had forgotten at their last halting- place, their equanimity was restored ; and while the meal was in preparation Dick shouldered his rifle and went ; i ■ ii'. I ! u I. i^ ■ t If 150 THE DOG CRUSOE. into the bush to try for another turkey. He did not get one, however, but he shot a couple of prairie-hens, which are excellent eating. Moreover, he found a large quantity of wild grapes and plums. These were un- fortunately not nearly ripe, but Dick resolved to try his hand at a new dish, so he stuti'ed the breast of his coat full of them. After the pot was emptied, Dick washed it out, and put a little clean water in it. Then he poured some Hour in, and stirred it well. While this was heating, he squeezed the sour grapes and plums into what Joe called a " mush," mixed it with a spoonful of sugar, and emptied it into the pot. He also skimmed a quantity of the fat from the remains of the turkey soup and added that to the mess, which he stirred with earnest diligence till it boiled down into a sort of thick por- ridge. " D'ye think it'll be good ? " asked Joe gravely ; " I've me doubts of it." « We'll see.— Hold the tin dish, Henri." " Take care of de fingers. Ha ! it looks magnifique — superb ! " The first spoonful produced an expression on Henri's face that needed not to be interpreted. It was as sour as vinegar. "Ye'll ha' to eat it yerself, Dick, lad," cried Joe, throwing down his .spoon, and spitting out the un- savoury mess. " Nonsense," cried Dick, bolting two or three mouth- fuls, and trying to look as if he liked it. " Try again ; it's not so bad as you think." THE DOG CRUSOE. 151 " Ho-o-o-o-o ! " cried Henri, after the second uiontht'ul. " 'Tis vinegre. All de sugare in de pack would not make more sweeter one bite of it." Dick was obliged to confess the dish a failure, so it was thrown out after having been offered to Crusoe, who gave it one snitf and turned away in silence. Then they mounted and resumed their journey. At this place mosquitoes and horse-flies troLd)led oui" hunters and their steeds a good deal. The latter especi- ally were very annoying to the poor horses. They bit them so much that the blood at last came trickling down their sides. They were troubled also, once or twice, l>y cockchafers and locusts, which annoyed them, not indeed by biting, but V-y fiylng blindly against their faces, and often narrowly missed hitting them in the eyes. Once particularly they w^erc so bad that Henri in his wrath opened his lips to pronounce a malediction on the whole race, when a cockchafer flew straight into his mouth, and, to use his own forcible expression, " nearly knocked him off de boss." But these were minor evils, and scarcely cost the hunters a thought. 'I ill '•4 >• r t I. I CHAPTER XII. Wanderings on the prairie — A ivar party— Chased hy Indians — A hold leap for life. FOR many daj'-s the three hunters wandered over the trackless prairie in search of a village of the Sioux Indians, but failed to find one, for the Indians were in the habit of shifting their ground and following the buffalo. Several times they saw small isolated bands of Indians ; but these they carefully avoided, fearing they might turn out to be war parties, and if they fell into their hands the white men could not expect civil treatment, whatever nation the Ix.iians might belong to. During the greater portion of this time they met with numerous herds of buffalo and deer, and were well sup- plied with food ; but they had to cook it during the day, being afraid to light a fire at night while Indians were prowling about. One night they halted near the bed of a stream whicli was almost dry. They had travelled a day and a night without water, and both men and horses were almost choking, so that when they saw the trees on the horizon which indicated tlie presence of a stream, they pushed forward with almost frantic haste. " Hope it's not dry," said Joe anxiously as they gal- ... jU THE DOG CRUSOE. 153 loped up to it. " No, there's water, lads," and they dashed forward to a pool that Lad not yet been dried up. They drank long and eagerly before they noticed that the pool was strongly hnpregna^ed with salt. Many streams in those parts of the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one was not utterly undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable. " We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deep hole in the sand with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the water iiltered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was, nevertheless, much ir^iproved. " We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think ? " inquired Dick ; " we've not seed Injuns for some days." " P'raps 'twould be better not," said Joe ; " but I dare- say we're safe enough." A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found, and the three friends Invouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe. " It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their rifles nevertheless. Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of the camp snufi'ed the breeze anxiously. " Up, lads ! catch the nags ! There's something in the wind, for the dog niver did that afore." In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured. " Call in the dog," whispered Joe Blunt ; " if he barks they'll find out our whereabouts." " Here, Crusoe, come — " It was too late ; the dog barked loudly and savagely tM !!; II: ; I. ( ;■ hi !' ! ! j..>.«JJ^_ 154 THE DOG CRUSOE. at the moment, and a troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the unwonted sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp. " It's a war party ; fly, lads ! nothin' '11 save our scalps now but our horses' heels," cried Joe. In a moment they vaulted into the saddle and urged their steeds forward at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an exulting yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need of conceal- ment, the three horsemen struck off' into the open prairie, intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses. As we have before remarked, they were good ones ; but the Indians soon proved that they were equally well if not better mounted. " It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking furtively over his shoulder. " The varmints are mounted on wild horses — leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the badger-holes, Dick. — Hold in a bit, Henri ; yer nag don't need drivin' ; a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the creek, lads." " Ha ! how dey yell," said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and shaking his rifle at them, an act that caused them to yell more flercely than ever. *' Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel." The pace was now tremendous. Piu'suers and pur- sued rose and sanlv on the prairie billows as they swept along, till they came to what is termed a " dividing ridge," which is a cross wave, as it were, that cuts the others in two, thus forming a continuous level. Here THE DOG CRUSOE. 155 ive our they advanced more easily ; but the advantage was equally shared with their pursuers, who continued the headlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served to show the fugitives that they at least did not gain rrround. A little to the rio-ht of the direction in which thev were flying a blue line was seen on the horizon. This indicated the existence of trees to Joe's practised eyes, and feeling that if the horses broke down they could better make a last manful stand in the wood than on the plain he urged his steed towards it. The savages noticed the movement at once, and uttered a yell of exultation, for they regarded it as an evidence that the fugitives doubted the strength of their horses. " Ye haven't got us yet," muttered Joe, with a sar- donic grin. " If they get near us, Dick, keep yer eyes open an' look out for yer neck, else they'll drop a noose over it, they will, afore ye know they're near, an' haul ye off like a sack." Dick nodded in reply, but did not speak, for at that moment his eye was fixed on a small creek ahead which they must necessarily leap or dash across. It was lined with clumps of scattered shrubbery, and he glanced rapidly for the most suitable place to pass. Joe and Henri did the same, and having diverged a little to the different points chosen, they dashed through the shrubbery and were hid from each other's view. On approaching the edge of the stream, Dick found to his consternation that the bank was twenty feet high opposite him, and too wide for any horse to clear. Wheeling aside without checking speed, at the risk of 156 THE DOG CRUHOE. ''li m throwing his steed, he rode along the margin of the stream for a few hundred yards until he found a ford — at least such a spot as might be cleared by a bold leap. The temporary check, however, had enabled an Indian to gain so close upon his heels that his exulting yell sounded close in his ear. With a vigorous bound his gallant little horse went over. Crusoe could not take it, but he rushed down the one bank and up the other, so that he only lost a few yards. These few yards, however, were sufficient to bring the Indian close upon him as he cleared the stream at full gallop. The savage whirled his lasso swiftly round for a second, and in another moment Crusoe uttered a tremendous roar as he was tripped up violently on the plain. Dick heard the cry of his faithful dog, and turned quickly round, just in time to see him spring at the horse's throat, and bring both steed and rider r* Avn upon him. Dick's heart leaped to his throat. Had a thousand savages been rushing on him he would have Hown to the rescue of his favourite ; but an unexpected obstacle came in the way. His fiery little steed, ex- cited by the headlong race and the howls of the Indians, had taken the bit in his teeth and was now unmanage- able. Dick tore at the reins like a maniac, and in the height of his frenzy even raised the butt of his rifle with the intent to strike the poor horse to the earth, but his better nature prevailed. He checked the uplifted hand, and with a groan dropped the reins, and sank alnost helplessly forward on the saddle ; for several of the In- dians had left the main body and were pursuing him THE DOG CRUSOE. i; )t alono, so that there would have been now no chance of his reachhig the place where Crusoe fell, even if he could have turned his horse. Spiritless, and utterly indifferent to what his fate might be, Dick Varley rode along with his head droop- ing, and keeping his seat almost mechanically, while the mettlesome little steed flew on over wave and hollow. Gradually he awakened from this state of despair to a sense of dani^er. Glancing round he observed that the Indians were now far behind him, though still pursuing. He also observed that his companions were galloping miles away on the horizon to the left, and that he had foolishly allowed the savages to get between him and them. The only chance that remained for him was to outride his pursuers, and circle round towards his com- rades, and this he hoped to accomplish, for his little horse had now proved itself to be superior to those of the Indians, and there was good ruiming in him still. Ursfinix him forward, therefore, he soon left the savaoes still farther behind, and feeling confident that they could not now overtake him he reined up and dismounted. The pursuers quickly drew near, but short though it was the rest did his horse good. Vaulting into the saddle, he again stretched out, and now skirted along the margin of a wood which seemed to mark the position of a river of considerable size. At this moment his horse put his foot into a badger- hole, and both of them came heavily to the ground. In an instant Dick rose, picked up his gun, and leaped unhurt into the saddle. But on urging his poor horse forward he found that its shoulder was badly sprained. 11 y. m I M 158 THP: dog CRUSOE. There was no room for inercj, however — life and death werr in the balance — -so ho plied the lash vigorously, and the noble steed warmed into something like o run, when aoain it stumbled, and fell with a crash on tlic groinid, while the blood burst from its mouth and nos- trils. Dick could hear the shout of triumph uttered by his pursuers. " My poor, poor horse ! " he exclaimed in a tone of the deepest commiseration, while he stooped and stroked its foam-studded neck. The dying steed raised its head for a moment, it al- most seemed a;> if to acknowledge the tones of affection, then it sank down with a gurgling groan. ])ick sprang up, for the Indians were now upon him, and bounded like an antelope into the thickest of the shrubbery ; wlnich was jiowher > tliick enough, however, to prevent the Indians following. Still, it sufficiently r(>tarded them to render the chase a more equal one than could have been expected. In a few minutes Dick gained a strip of open ground b'jyond, and found himself on the bank of a broad river, whose evidently deep waters rushed impetuously along their unob- structed channel. The bank at the spot where ho reached it was a sheer precipice of bet'ween thirty and forty feet high. Glancing up and down the rive:.* he retreated a few paces, turned round and shook his clenched fist at the savages, acconipanying the action with .; .shout of defiance, and tiien running to the edge of iho bank, sprang far out into the boiling flood and sank. The Indians pulled up ni reaching the spot. There THE DOG CRUSOE. m) was no possibility of giillopiiig down the wood-oncnni- beved banks aftei" the fugitive; but quick as tbouglit each Red-man leaped to the ground, and fitting an arrow to his bow, awaited Dick's re-appearance with eager gaze. Young though he was, and unskilled in such wild warfare, Dick knew well enough what sort of reception he wonld meet with on coming to the surface, so he kept nnder water as long as he could, and struck out as vigor- ously as the care of his riile would permit. At last h(i rose for a few seconds, and innnediately half-a-dozen arrows whizzed through the air ; Init most of them fell short — only one passed close to his cheek, and wei.t with a " whip " into the river. He immediately sank again, and the next time he rose to breathe he was far beyond th(i reach of his Indian en(Mnies. I ft } 'f jliij- !H i t i I ', CHAPTER XIIL Kica pr^ from Indiana — .-1 discoirrii — Alone in the desert. DICK VAllLEY had spent so much of his boyhood in sporting about among the waters of the rivers and lakes near which he had been reared, and especially during the last two years had spent so much of his leisure time in rollino- and divino- with his doo- Crusoe O c5 »Ti in the lake of the j\lustang Valley, that he had become almost as expert in the water as a South Sea islander ; so that when he found himself whirling down the rapid river, as already described, he was more impressed with a feeling of gratitude to God for his escape from the Indians than anxiety about getting ashore. He was not altogether blind or indifferent to the danijer into which he miyht be hurled if the channel of the river should be found lower down to bo broken with rocks, or should a waterfall um^xpectedly appear. After floating down a suflleient distance to render piu'suit out of the qu(^stion, he struck into the bank opposite to that from which he had plunged, and clambering up to the greensward al)0ve, stripped off the greater part of his clothing and hung it on the branches of a bush to dry. Then ho sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree THE DOG CRUSOE. m to consider what course he had best pursue in his pre- sent circumstances. These circumstances were by no means calculated to inspire him with hope or comfort. He was in the midst of an unknown wilderness, hundreds of miles from any white man's settlement ; surrounded by savages ; without food or blanket ; his companions gone, he knew not whither — perhaps taken and killed by the Indians ; his horse dead ; and his dog, the most trusty and loving of all his friends, lost to him, pro- bably, for ever ! A more veteran heart might have quailed in the midst of such accumulated evils ; but Dick Varley possessed a strong, young, and buoyant constitution, which, united with a hopefulness of dispo- sition that almost nothing could overcome, enabled him very quickly to cast aside the gloomy view of his case and turn to its brighter aspects. He still grasped his good rifle, that was some comfort ; and as his eye fell upon it, he turned with anxiety to examine into the condition of his powder-horn and the few things that he had been fortunate enough to carry away wHh hini about his person. The horn in which western hunters carry their powder is usually that of an ox. It is closed up at the large end with a piece of hard wood fitted tightly into it, and the small end is closed with a wooden peg or stopper. It is therefore completely water-tight, and may be for hours innnersed without the powder getting wet, unless the stopper should chance to be knocked out. Dick found, to his great satisfaction, that the stopper was fast and the powder perfectly diy. Moreover, he had U f*!' 1 I I: i:i' I I .li!!ii !'■'' I 1 .1 162 THE DOG CRUSOE. by good fortune filled it full two days before from the package that contained the general stock of ammunition, so that there were only two or three charges out of it. His percussion caps, however, were completely destroyed ; and ev^en though they had not been, it would have mat- tered little, for he did not possess more than half-a-dozen. But this was not so great a misfortune as at first it might seem, for he had the spare flint locks and the little screw-driver necessary for fixing and unfixing them stowed away in his shot pouch. To examine his supply of bullets was his next care, and slowly he counted them out, one by one, to the number of thirty. This was a pretty fair supply, and with careful economy would last him many days. Hav- ing relieved his mind on these all-important points, he carefullj'' examined every pouch and corner of his dress to ascertain the exact amount and value of his wealth. Besides the leather leo-o-injrs moccasins, deerskin luuit- ing-shirt, cap, and belt which composed his costume, he had a short heavy hunting-knife, a piece of tinder, a little tin pannikin, which he had been in the habit of carrying at his belt, and a large cake of maple sugar. This last is a species of sugar which is procured by the Indians from the maple-tree. Several cakes of it had been carried ofl' from the Pawnee village, and Dick nsuallv carried one in the breast of his coat. Besides these things, ho found that the little Bible, for which his mother had madc^ a small insidi.- breast-pocket, was safe. ])ick's lieart smote him when he took it out and undid the clasp, for he had not looked at it until that THE DOG CRUSOE. 163 clay. It was firmly bound with a brass clasp, so that, although the binding and the edges of the leaves -were soaked, the inside was quite dry. On opening the book to see if it had been damaged, a small paper fell out. Picking it up quickly, he unfolded it, and read, in his motlier's handwriting : " Gall uj)on ine in the time of trouble ; and I ivill deliver thee, and thou shall glorify me. My son, give me thine heart." Dick's eyes filled with tears while the sound, as it were, of his mother's voice thus reached him unexpect- edly in that lonely wilderness. Like too many whose hearts are young and gay, Dick had regarded religion, if not as a gloomy, at least as not a cheerful thing. But he felt the comfort of these words at that moment, and he resolved seriously to peruse his mother's parting gift in time to come. The sun was hot, and a warm breeze gently shook the leaves, so that Dick's garments were soon dry. A few minutes served to change the locks of his rifle, draw the wet charges, dry out the barrels, and re-load. Then throwing it across his shoulder, he entered the wood and walked lightly away. And well he might, poor fellow, for at that moment he felt light enough in person if not in heart. His worldly goods were noi such as to oppress him ; but the little note had turned his thoughts towards home, and he felt comforted. Traversing the belt of woodland that marked the course of the river, Dick soon emerged on the wide prairie beyond, and here he paused in some uncertainty as to how he should proceed. He was too good a backwoodsman, albeit so young, to ■, '<'>-• I III i'l I I ;^ H \: i\ P ; i Ml, I I 164 THE DOG CRUSOE. feel perplexed as to the points of the compass. He knew pretty well what hour it was, so that the sun showed him the general bearings of the country, and he knew that when night came he could correct his course by the pole star. Dick's knowledge of astronomy was limited ; he knew only one star by name, but that one was an inestimable treasure of knowledge. His per- plexity was owing to his uncertainty as to the direction in which his companions and their pursuers had gone ; for he had made up his mind to follow their trail if possible, and render all the succour his single a"m might afford. To desert them, and make for the set- tlement, he held, w^ 4d be a faithless and cowardly act. While they were together Joe Blunt had often talked to him about the route he meant to pursue to tlie Rocky Mountains, so that, if they had escaped the Indians, he thought thore might be some chance of finding them at last. But, to set against this, there was the probability that they had been taken and carried away in a totally different direction ; or they might have taken to the river, as he had done, and gone farther down without his observing them. Then, again, if they had escaped, they would be sure to return and search the country round for him, so that if he left the spot he might miss them. " Oh for my dear pup Crusoe ! " he exclaimed aloud in this dilemma ; but the faithful ear was shut now, and the deep silence that followed his cry was so op- pressive that the young hunter sprang forward at a run over the plain, as if to fly from solitude. He soon be- THE DOG CRUSOE. 165 came so absorbed, however, in his efforts to find the trail of his companions, that he forgot all other con- siderations, and ran straight forward for hours together with his eyes eagerly fixed on the ground. At last he felt so hungry, having tasted no food since supper-time the previous evening, that he halted for the purpose of eating a morsel of maple sugar. A line of bushes in the distance indicated water, so he spell on again, and was soon seated beneath a willow, drinking water from the cool stream. No game was to be found here, but there w^ere several kinds of berries, among which wild grapes and plums grew in abundance. With these and some sugar he made a meal, though not a good one, for the berries w^ere quite green and intensely sour. All that day Dick Varley followed up the trail of his companions, which he discovered at a ford in the river. They had crossed, therefore, in safety, though still pur- sued ; so he ran on at a regular trot, and with a little more hope than he had felt during the day. Towards night, however, Dick's heart sank again, for he came upon innumerable buffalo tracks, among which those of the horses soon became mingled up, so that he lost them altogether. Hoping to find them again more easily by broad daylight, he went to the nearest clump of willows he could find, and encamped for the night. Remembering the use formerly made of the tall wil- lows, he set to work to construct a covering to protect him from the dew. As he had no blanket or buffalo skin, he used leaves and grass instead, and found it a better shelter than he had expected, especially when the fire was lighted, and a pannikin of hot sugar and water ' lii Ifil I r kit '! !!' I f' !: I 166 THE DOG CRU80E. smoked at his feet ; but as no game was to be found, he was again compelled to sup off unripe berries. Before lying down to rest he remembered his resolution, and pulling out the little Bible, read a portion of it by the fitful blaze of the fire, and felt great comfort in its blessed words. It seemed to him like a friend with whom he could converse in the midst of his loneliness. The plunge into the river having broken Dick's pipe and destroyed his tobacco, he now felt the want of that luxury very severely, and, never having wanted it be- fore, he was greatly surprised to find how much he had become enslaved to the habit. It cost him more than an hour's rest that night, the craving for his wonted pipe. The sagacious reader will doubtless not fail here to ask himself the question, whether it is wise in man to create in himself an unnatural and totally unnecessary appetite, which may, and often does, entail hours — ay, sometimes months — of exceeding discomfort ; but we would not for a moment presume to suggest such a question to him. We have a distinct objection to the ordinary method of what is called " drawing a moral." It is much better to leave wise men to do this for themselves. Next morning Dick rose with the sun, and started without breakfast, preferring to take his chance of find- ing a bird or animal of some kind before long, to feeding again on sour berries. He was disappointed, however, in finding the tracks of his companions. The ground here was hard and sandy, so that little or no impression of a distinct kind was made on it; and as butt'aloes THE DOG CRUSOE. 167 had traversed it in all directions, ho was soon utterly bewildered. He thought it possible that, by running- out for several miles in a straight line, and then taking a wide circuit round, he might find the tracks emerging from the confusion made by the bufi'aloes. But he was again disappointed, for the butialo tracks still continued, and the ground became less capable of showing a foot- print. Soon Dick began to feel so ill and weak from eating such poor fare, that he gave up all hope of discovering the tracks, and was compelled to push forward at his utmost speed in order to reach a less barren district, where he might procure fresh meat ; but the farther ho advanced the worse and more sandy did the district become. For several days he pushed on over this arid waste without seeing bird or beast, and, to add to his misery, he failed at last to find water. For a day and a night he wandered about in a burning fever, and his throat so parched that he was almost sufibcated. To- wards the close of the second day he saw a slight line of bushes away down in a hollow on his right. With eager steps he staggered towards them, and, on drawing near, beheld — blessed sight ! — a stream of \Nater glanc- injjf in the beams of the settinsj sun. Dick tried to shout for joy, but his parched throat refused to give utterance to the voice. It mattered not. Exertinof all his remainino- strenoth he rushed down the bank, dropped his rifie, and plunged head- foremost into the stream. The first mouthful sent a thrill of horror to his heart ; it was salt as brine ' > '1 I mi It n 168 ' 5 ■ it ill r mi ir; 111.' THE DOG CRUSOE. o" the bank in a speci:s of w, """' '^^ '^''"'^ ^^^^^ he awakened next L'in! ^ I?" "^T ^™'" -hich .^oon rendered him insea^ble to''°^"" '''• ""''""•" «« rose like a ball of tire and . , ™"'"""^- ^he ing power on the arid pLT^ "v/'r" "''«> -°™h- Dick ? He was far aw J t;, . ""'^*^'-'^ '* *<> f -tang Valle,. eh^sL^^,: cW- 1"? ^^'•''^^•' <^^ "- frequently eoolins. his iLb! T *'""'' ''"' ™o>-e ■" *e bright blu'e lalKorL ■''"""'" ^"* ^-- cottage, telling, her how h 7 , /'"' '" ^"^ ™°ther's f- away on The praw! at. t /'°"=''' °*' ''^ -h- f - she had wL;™d? St: ''°"'"' ^""^^* --■ too Anon he was seourin. o.lr t ~ "^ ""-^Pectedly. back, with the savao-es at h;.T, ^ ■""' "" ^orse- Diek w^ould spring wUh'r Y' ' ^»'' -* '"eh time.s from the ground, and r„„ IT '"P«™«*«--' strength •-'- as if by a spels oTfa :£rV'" '"™'"=" P'^" '• to the .salt river, and san "' "'"^^ ''<"«■"«'• Pi;nged helplessly in^oirit::^^'^^ '' "^ ^'''<'' - ehort'':;;:T:er::rhe rrr ''-''-' '^- ^- « -cl gnaw a .nor.sel of ^ J", ' """' "P "^ ^-^k eat much, for it was n TT T^'"'' *•"' ^^ '^""'d not hi« jaw.s had not power to h ,' '^'"^'^^ '^^''- "'Wch the next night he layTtl , "? " ^" "'''' I* I I I ' ai I ! I I i ■! i ~\ i u....-il CHAPTER XIV. Crusoe's return, and his private adventures anionti the Indians — Dic/c at a very low cLb^Crusoe saves hiiu. THE means by whicli Crusoe managed to escape from his two-legged captors, and rejoin his master, require sepaiate and special notice. In the struggle with the fallen horse and Indian, which Dick had seen begun but not concluded, he was almost crushed to death ; and the instant the Indian gained his feet, he sent an arrow at his head with savage violence. Crusoe, however, had been so well used to dodoino- the blunt-headed arrows that were wont to be shot at him by the boys of the Mustang Valley, that he was quite prepared, and eluded the shaft by an active bound. Moreover, he uttered one of his own peculiar roars, flew at the Indian's throat, and draey ffaUoped away ^t;^ the n"""' • " '"'' ■"^^™' ^''>- '^P-o of oM iumbe: :;;, ;t';.:" "^« »"~-^ ^^e --P of food till .nornin,, wVfwa " ^"^ " """ ■■'ci-os.s the horse of his e1,\Z , ''"'"" *'"■««■« «- vi,U,e was rea c^Vl f ^fu ™™' °"- ^^'''- ?'-onncl, and would certa nl^ 1 " ''«''"' °» '^o «ve Minutes h, the S Z: ^r^" *« P^- - i-ound hiua. had i, ,t an nU ' "^'"^ ''""'^ing -" "•■iv-n then at; ° wrZ ,7" f "'^ ~ «on-a little naked ereltur \ m '^ "^ ''^'' S^^«'- to ,sta8.ger-.she draped ,,;" :""" '° "''"^' «^- ^ther Although lyin,r in , J ; "'' °'^''''«' )>"» a bone. An awful crash wa. followed b! ''"^'"' "^"^ ''• ^vas gone ! and (>usoo Innl , """ehes-and it i-o With a look that . a nh f "^'" "" *' ■^l"^^"^ P!e-. and as quief r^' S:^'' :;^"°"- "^ the «an>e, h-m another, and then a lu,,,; / ' "''""^" S'"^^" went down with a .„,. . , ' "^ °* ■"•■'^'- "'hich latter f. -- -" he didn^ etk . aC^'J'''' " ' -'' )'■">. and Crusoe .spent the , , " "1™"' '«ft f-ving .he eord,s'th:t il,TZY^^'' "'^'"* THE DOG CRUSOE. 173 liberately out of the tent. Then lie shook liiinself, and with a yell that one mi^ht have fancied was intended for defiance he bounef ore. Dick ])(>ndered a minute ; then ;i, tliought struck him. :i' i.4 THE DOG CRUSOE. 175 He tui'ned up a little of the snnd with his fingers, find, pointing to the hole, cried, " Seek hini out, j)^}^ I " Ha ! Crusoe understood that. ^lany and many a time had he unhoused rabbits, and squirrels, and other creatures at that word of conniiand ; so, witliout a mo- ment's delay, he commenced to dig down into the sand, every now and then stopping for a moment and shoving in his nose, and snuffing interrogatively, as if he fully expected to find a butlalo at the bottom of it. Then he would resume again, one paw after another so fast that you could scarce see them going — "hand over hand," as sailors would have called it— while the sand fl( \v out lietween his hind ley's in a continuous shower. When the sand accumulated so nuich ])ehind him as to impede his motions he scraped it out of his way, and set to work again with tenfold earnestness. After a good while he paused and looker. Tn the course of a quarter of an hour there was a deep yawning hole in the sand, into which Dick peered with intense anxiety. The bottom appeared slightly (l(f)trp. Hope now reanimated Dick Varley, and by various devices he succeed(Ml in getting the dog to scrape away a sort of tunnel from th(> hole, into which he might roll himsf^lf and put down his lips to drink when the water should rise high enough. Impatiently and anxiously h(^ lav watching the moisture slowlv accunm- '^! i mmmmm 176 THE DOG CRUSOE. i\l 'Tp i '■' late in the bottom of the hole, drop by drop, and while he gazed he fell into a troubled, restless slumber, and dreamed that Crusoe's return was a dream, and that he was alone again, perishing for want of wrcer. When he awakened the hole was half full of clear water, and Crusoe was lapping it greedily. " Back, pup ! " he shouted, as he crept down to the hole and put his trembling lips to the water. It was brackish, but drinkable, and as Dick drank deeply of it he esteemed it at that moment better than nectar. Here he lay for half-an-hour, alternately drinking and mizinii' in surnrise at hia own emaciated visao-e as re- fleeted in the pool. The same afternoon Crusoe, in a private hunting ex- cursion of his own, discovered and caught a prairie-hen, which lie quietly proceeded to devour on the spot, when Dick, who saw what had occurred, whistled to him. Obedience was engrained in eveiy fibre of Crusoe's mental and corporeal being. He did not merely ans\ver at once to the call — he sprang to it, leaving the prairie- hen untastcd. " Fetch it, pup/' cried Dick eagerly as the dog came up. In a few moments the hen was at his feet. Dick's circumstances could not brook the delay of cookery ; he gashed the bird with his knife and diank the blood, and then gave the flesh to the dog, while lie crept to the pool again for another draught. Ah ! think not, reader, tliat although we have treated this subject in a slight vein of pleasantry, because it ended well, that thei-efore our tale is pure fiction. Not only are Indianh glad to clear THE DOG CRUSOE. 177 satisfy the urgent cravings of hunger with raw flesh, but many civilized men and delicately nurtured have done the same — ay, and doubtless will do the same again, as long as enterprising and fearless men shall go forth to dare the dangers of Hood and field in the wild places of our wonderful world ! Crusoe had finished his share of the feast before Dick returned from the pool. Then master and dog lay down together side by side and fell into a long, deep, peaceful slumber. ! ; ! t Hi 11^ -hen, 'anie ck's he and the ler, ;hfc lore to i .flJ 12 1 , I CHAPTER XV. Health and happiness return — Incidents of the jnnrncii—A buffalo shot— A wild horse ''^creased''' — Dick's battle vitli a mustawf. m i! ilii , ''' ■.[ DICK VARLEY'S fccars and troubles, in the mean- time, were ended. On the day following ho awoke refreshed and happy — so happy and light at lieart, as he felt the glow of returning health coursing tlirough his veins, that he fancied he must have dreamed it all. In fact, he was so certain that his muscles were strong that he endeavoured to leap up, hut was power- fully convinced of his true condition hy the miserable stagger that resulted from the etibrt. However, he knew he Avas recovering, so he rose, and thanking God for his recovery, and for the new hope that was raised '\n his heart, he went down to the pool and drank deeply of its water. Then he returned, and, sitting down beside his dog, opened the Bible and read long — and, for the first time, carnetithj — the story of Christ's love for sinful man. Ho at last fell asleep ovei* the book, and when he awakened felt so much refreshed in body and mind that he determined to attempt to pursue his journey. He had not proceeded far when he came upon a colony of prairie-dogs. 1 ^pon this occasion he was little I and ope lool xnd, rccad of )ver bed to a ^tle THE DOG CRUSOE. 170 inclined to take a humorous view of the vagaries of these 'urious little creatures, but he shot one, and, as befor J, ate part of it raw. These creatures are so active thai) they are difficult to shoot, and even when killed generally fall into their holes and disappear. Crusoe, however, soon unearthed the dead animal on this occa- sion. That nifjht the travellers came to a stream of fresh water, and Dick killed a turkey, so that he deter- mined to spend a couple of days there to recruit. At the end of that time he again set out, but was able only to advance five miles when he broke down. In fact, it became evident to him that he must have a longer period of absolute repose ere he could hope to continue his journey ; but to do so without food was impossible. Fortunately there was plenty of water, as his course lay along the margin of a small stream, and, as the arid piece of prairie was now behind him, he hoped to fall in with birds, or perhaps deer, soon. While he was plodding heavily and wearily along, pondering these things, he came to the brow of a wave from which he beheld a most magnificent view of green grassy plains decked with flowers, and rolling out to the horizon, with a stream meandering through it, and clumps of trees scattered everj'where far and wide. It was a glorious sight ; but the most glorious object in it to Dick, at that time, was a fat buffalo which stood grazing not a hundred yards otF The wind was blow- ing towards him, so that the animal did not scent him, and, as he came up very slowly, and it was turned away, it did not see him. Crusoe would have sprung forward in an instant, but il r] il;j i''f1 li V3. u I u ■ ■■ ■■ ' i'l! 1:11 K : ■ * 1' ■ !!. Ill !' ' i '111 :i:^i|^ i if:' 1-! 180 THE DOG CRUSOE. his master's finger imposed silence and caution. Trem- bling with eagerness, Dick sank flat down in the grass, cocked both barrels of his piece, and, resting it on his left hand with his left elbow on the ground, he waited until the animal should present its side. In a few seconds it moved ; Dick's eye glanced along the barrel, but it trembled — his wonted steadiness of aim was gone. He fired, and the buffalo sprang off' in terror. With a groan of despair he fired again — almost reck- lessly — and the buffalo fell ! It rose once or twice and stumbled forward a few paces, then it fell again. ]\Iean- while Dick reloaded with trembling hand, and advanced to give it another shot ; but it was not needful — the buffalo was already dead. " Now, Crusoe," said Dick, sitting down on the buffalo's shoulder and patting his favourite on the head, " we're all right at last. You and I shall have a jolly time o't, pup, from this time for'ard." Dick paused for breath, and Crusoe wagged his tail and looked as if to say — pshaw ! " as if! " We tell you what it is, reader, it's of no use at all to go on writing " as if," when we tell you what Crusoe said. If there is any language in eyes whatever — if there is language in a tail, in a cocked ear, in a mobile eyebrow, in the point of a canine nose, — if there is language in any terrestrial thing at all, apart from that which flows from the tongue, then Crusoe spoke ! Do we not speak at this moment to you? and if so, then tell me wherein lies the diflerence between a written letter and a given sign? Yes, Crusoe spoke. lie said to Dick as plain as dog THE DOG CRUSOE. 181 could say it, slowly and emphatically, " That's my opinion precisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliest fellow that ever walked on two legs, you are ; and whatever's your opinion is mine, no matter hoiv absurd it may be." Dick evidently understood him perfectly, for he laughed as he looked at him and patted him on the head, and called him a " funny dog." Then he continued his discourse : — " Yes, pup, we'll make our camp here for a long bit, old dog, in this beautiful plain. We'll make a willow wigwam to sleep in, you and I, jist in yon clump o' trees, not a stone's-throw to our right, where we'll have a run o' pure water beside us, and be near our buffjilo at the same time. For, ye see, w^e'U need to watch him lest the wolves take a notion to eat him — that'll be your duty, pup. Then I'll skin him when I get strong enough, which'll be in a day or two, I hope, and we'll put one-half of the skin below us and t'other half above us i' the camp, an' sleep, an' eat, an' take it easy for a week or two — won't we, pup ? " " Hoora-a-a-y ! " shouted Crusoe, with a jovial wag of his tail, that no human arm with hat, or cap, or kerchief ever equalled. Poor Dick Yarlcy ! He smiled to think how earnestly he had been talking to the dog ; but he did not cease to do it, for althouo'h he entered into discourses the drift of which Crusoe's limited education did not permit him to follow, he found comfort in hearing the sound of his own voice, and in knowing tliat it fell pleasantly on another ear in that lonely wilderness. J id i !i 182 THE DOG CRUSOE. r ti. ;!■ 'it' li ii:i;:ii: Our liero now set about his preparations as vigorously as he could. He cut out the buffalo's tonjjue — a matter of great difficulty to one in his weak state — and carried it to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turf was level and green, and decked with wild flowers. Here he resolved to make his camp. His first care was to select a bush whose branches were long enough to form a canopy over his head when bent, and the ends thrust into the ground. The com- pleting of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest he resumed his labours. The next thino; was to lioht a fire — a comfoi't which he had not enjoyed for many weary days. Not that he required it for warmth, for the weather was extremely warm, but he required it to cook with, and the mere sight of a blaze in a dark place is a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows. When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin at the brook and put it on to boil, and cutting several slices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes through them and set them up before the fire to roast. By this time the water was boiling, so he took it off with diffi- culty, nearly burning his fingers and singeing the tail of his coat in so doing. Into the pannikin he put a lump of maple sugar, and stirred it about with a stick, and tasted it. It seemed to him even better than tea or coffee. It was absolutel}^ delicious ! Really one has no notion what he can do if he makes believe very Jucrd. The human mind is a nicely balanced and extremely complex machine, and when thrown a little off the balance can be made to believe almost any- thing, as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs, or kes led a p- |cs, THE DOG eilUSOE. 18:i who have fancied that tlioy were made of all sorts of things — ghiss and porcelain, and such like. No wondt^r then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as the most delicious beverage ho evav drank. During all tliese operations Crusoe sat on his haunches beside him and looked. And you haven't, no, you haven't got the most distant notion of the way in which that dog mancruvred with bis head and face. He opened liis eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head tirst a little to one side, then a little to- the other. After that he turned it a good deal to one side, and then a tjood deal more to the other. Then he broutrht it straight, and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other a little, and then both together very much. Then, when Dick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild for a moment, and yawned vociferously. I'resently Dick moved — up went the ears again, and Crusoe came, in military parlance, " to the position of attention ! " At last supper was ready and they began. Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back from him, in order that they might eat it in company. And between every bite and sup that Dick took, he gave a bite — but not a sup— to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they ate together; and when Dick lay that night undei- the willow branches, looking up through them at the stars, with his feet to the fire and Crusoe close along his side, he tliought it the best and sweetest supper he ever ate, and the happiest evening he ever spent — so wonderfully do circumstances modify our notions of felicity. Two weeks after this " Richard was himselt" again.' 'Tl T ■ i ; ' ■ i j I I . ( 11:^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT.3) ^ // ^ J^^^. // \ PhotogTdphic ^Sciences Corporation ^v ^ ^ •1>^ # \\ i^ 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WnSTM.N.Y. USU (71«) 173-4303 Ld> ^ o^ I ■ H llf; 184 THE DOU CRUSOE. Tlio muscles were springy, and the blood coursed fast and free, as was its wont. Only a slight, and, perhaps, salutary feeling of weakness remained, to remind him that young muscles might again become more helpless than those of an aged man or a child. Dick had left his encampment a week ago, and was now advancing by rapid stages towards the Rocky Mountains, closely following the trail of his lost com- rades, which he had no difficulty in finding and keeping now that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the butialo that he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders, and the skin of another animal that he had shot a few •lays after was cut up into a long line and slung in a coil round his neck. Crusoe was also laden. He had a little bundle of meat slung on each side of him. For some time past numerous herds of mustangs, or wild horses, had crossed their path, and Dick was now on the look-out for a chance to crease one of those mag- nificent creatures. On one occasion a band of mustangs galloped close up to him before they were aware of his presence, and stopped short with a wild snort of surprise on beholding him ; then, wheeling round, they dashed away at full gallop, their long tails and manes fi3'ing wildly in the air, and their hoofs thundering on the plain. Dick did not attempt to crease one upon this occasion, fearing that his recent ilhiess miiiht have rendered his hand too unsteady for so extremely delicate an operation. In order to crease a wild h-^rsc^ the hunter requires to be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the west who carries a lifle that can do it successfully. Creasing THE Don CKUSOK. 185 consists ill sending' a bullet throuL;li the «;ristle of the mustang's iicck, just above the bone, so as to stun the animal. If the ball enters a hair's-breadth too low, the horse falls dead instantly. If it hits the exact spot, the horse falls as instantaneously, and dead to all appearance ; but, in reality, he is oidy stuinied, and if left for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearly as well as ever. When hunters crease a horse success- fully they put a rope, or halter, round his under jaw and hobbles round his feet, so that when he rises he is secured, and, after considerable trouble, reduced to obedience. The mustanfjs which roam in wild freedom on the prairies of the far west are descende*! from the noble Spanish steeds that were brought over by the wealthy cavaliers who accompanied Fernando Cortez, the con- queror of ]\Iexico, in his expedition to the New World in 1518. These bold, and, we may add, lawless cavaliers were mounted on the finest horses that could be procured from Barbarv and the deserts of the C)M World. The poor Indians of the New World were sti'uck with amaze- ment and terror at these awful beings, for, never having seen horses before, they believed that horse and rider were one animal. ])iiring th(^ wars that followed many of the Spaniards wen; killed, and their steeds boundeil into the wilds of the new counti'V, to eniov a life of unrestrained freedom. '^Fhese were the fonrnlhers of the present race of mngnlilccnt cri'atures which an; found in innnense droves all over the western wiMer- ncss, from the Gulf of Mexico to the confines of the snowy regions of the far north. h II 186 TIIK 1)()0 (!RUS()K. At first tin' Tiidiaiis belu'ld those liorsos with Jiwo and terror, Ijut •n-suhuillv tliey became accustomed to tliem, and finally succeeded in capturing pjreat numbeivs and reducing them to a state ot* servitude. Not, however, to the service of the cultivated field, but to the service of th(.^ cliase and war. The savages soon acijuired the method of capturing wild horses by means ol the his.so — ^as tlie noose at that end of a long line of raw lii' Ixnng weighted with a rider, so that only the weak and inferior animals arc captuivd. And, secondly, wlien the Indian does succeed in lassoing a first-rate horse lie keeps it for his own use. Thus, those who have not visited the far-otf prairies and seen the nuistang in all the glory of untranuuelled fivedom, can form no ad(M]uate idea of its beauty, fieetness, and strengtli. The horse, however, was not the only creature im- poi-ted by (V)rt(^z. There were priests in his army who rode upon asses, and although we cannot imagine that TITE I)()(J lUUSOK. 1.S7 the " fathers " chart^od with tl»o cavaliers and were un- horsed, or, ratlier, uii-JHsed in battle, yet, somehow, the asses ^ot rid of the r riders anr they were not within rille range. Having done so he crept slowly back until the undulation of the prairie hid him from view ; then he sprang to his feet, and ran a con- siderable distance aloU'' the bottom until he e;ained the «! U. lU i jl 188 THH: IHHi CRUSOE. Il t!'i ( oxti'onie end of a belt of low bushes, ■\vliich would eti'ec- tually conceal him while he approached to within a hundred yards or less of the troop. ]I(!re he made his .arrangements. Throwing" down his buH'alo robe, he took the coil of line and cut ott' a piece of about three yards in leuL^th. On this he made a running noose. The longer line he also prepared with a running noose. These he threw in a coil over his arm. He also made a pair of hobbles, and placed them in the breast of his coat, and then, taking up his rifle, advanced cautiously through the bushes — Crusoe follow- inir close behind him. In a few minutes he was gazincs; in admiration at the mustangs, which were now within easy shot, and utterly ignoi'ant of the presence of man, for Dick had taken care to approach in such a way that the wind did not carry the scent of him in their direction. And well might he admire them. The wild horse of these regions is not. very large, but it is exceedingly powerful, with prominent eye, sharp nose, distended nostril, small fc^et, and a delicate leg. Their beautiful manes hung at great length down their arched necks, and their thick tails swept the ground. One mag- nificent fellow in particular attracten as wildly back, and then stood still and trembled violently. But this was only a Ijrief lull in the storm, so Dick saw that the time was now com(^ to assert the superiority of his race. " St.iy b.'iek, Crusoe, and watch my ritle, pup," he cried, and raising his heaw switch he brought it down with a sharp cut across the horse's flank, at the same time loosening the rein which hitherto ho had lield tight. The wild horse uttered a passionate cry, and sprang forward like the bolt from a cross-bow. «! I I ft I ':i 1.2 'I 102 TIIK DOG CRUSOE. And now conniicnced a race wliich, if not so pro. longed, was at least as furious as tliat of the far-famed Mazeppa. ^)iek was a splendid rider, however — at least as far as " stickinu' on " ijfoes. He nii^jlit not have come up to the precise pitch desiderated l)y a riding-master in regard to cari-iage, etc., but he rode that wild horse of the prairie with as much ease as he had formerly ridden his own good steed, whose bones had been picked by the wolves not long ago. The pace was tremendous, for the youth's weight was nothing to that muscular frame, which bounded with cat-like agility from wave to wave of the undulat- ing plain in ungovernable terror. In a few minutes the clump of willows where Crusoe and his rille lay were out of sight behind ; but it mattered not, for Dick had looked up at the sky and noted the position of the 'in at the moment of starting. Away they went on the wings of the wind, mile after mile over the ocean- like waste — curving slightly aside now and then to avoid the blufts that occasionally appeared on the scene for a few minutes and then swept out of sight behind them. Then they came to a little rivulet. It was a mere brook of a few feet wide, and two or three yards, perhaps, from bank to bank. Over this they flew so easily that the spring was scarcely felt, and continued the headlong course. And now a more barren country was around them. Sandy ridges and scrubby grass appeared everywhere, reminding Dick of the place whei'e he liad been so ill. Rocks, too, were scattered about, and at one place the horse dashed with clattering hoofs between a couple of rocky sand- \ THE DOG CllUSOE. 103 pro. and more and Ik of Ivere shed md- liills wliich, for a few seconds, liid the prairie from view. Here the mustang suddenly shied witli sucli violcsnce tliat his rider was nearly thrown, while a rattlesnake darted from the path. Soon they emerged from this pass, and ai^^ain the plains became green and verdant. Presently a distant line of trees showed that they were approaching water, and in a few minutes they were close on it. For the first time Dick felt alarm. He sought to check his steed, but no force lie could exert had the smallest influence on it. Trees and bushes flew past in bewihlering confusion. The river was before him ; what width, he could not tell, but he was reckless now, like hirt charger, which he struck with the willow rod with all Ids force as they came up. One tremendous bound, and they were across, but Dick had to lie flat on the mustang's back as it crashed through the bushes to avoid being scraped off by the trees. Again they w^ere on the open plain, and the wild horse bejxan to show siq-ns of exhaustion. Now was its rider's opportunity to assert his do- minion. He plied the willow rod and urged the pant- ing horse on, until it was wdiite with foam and laboured a little in its gait. Then Dick gently drew the halter, and it broke into a trot ; still tighter, and it walked, and in another minute stootl still, trembling in every limb. Dick now quietly rubbed its nock, and spoke to it in soothing tones ; then he wheeled it gently round, and urged it forward. It was quite subdued and docile. In a little time thev came to the river and forded it, after which they went through the belt of woodland at a walk. By the time they reached the 13 I.I I in I . 194 THP: dog CRUSOE. open prairie tlie mustang was recovered sufficiently to feel its spirit returning, so Dick gave it a gentle touch with the switch, and away they went on their return journey. JJut it amazed Dick not a little to find how long that journey was. Very diti'erent was the pace, too, from the previous mad gallop, and often would the poor horse have stopped had Dick allowed him. But this might not be. The shades of night were approaching, and the camp lay a long way ahead. At last it was reached, and Crusoe came out with great demonstrations of joy, but was sent back lest he should alarm the horse. Then Dick jumped off his back, stroked his head, put his cheek close to liis moutii and whispered softly to him, after which he fastened him to a tree and rubbed him down slightly with a bunch of grass. Having done this, he loft liim to graze as far as his tether would permit ; and, after supping with Crusoe, lay down to rest, not a little elated with his success in this first attempt at " creas- and " breaking " a mustang. ing CHAPTER XVI. Dick Imninot II Ao/'.sr Itiini r Hnfn ir.s Iuk Jintrniil — Ck(irli<\i dtiinitu - .l//.v^)C- tutus irliirk lead to, but do a' tinahuitt in, tin Rockij Mountains - A livizdii licur. TlfEUE is a proverb — or a sayini'' — or at least somebody or Itook has told us, that some Ji'ish- iiian once said, " Be aisy ; or, it' ye can't be aisy, be as aisy as ye can." Now, wc count that good advice, and strongly re- commend it to all and sundry. Had we been at the side of Dick Varley on the night after his taming of the wild horse, we would have strongly urged that advice upon him. Whether he would have listened to it or not is (juite another question ; we rather think not. Reader, if you wish to know why, go and do what he did, and if you feel no curious sensations about the region of the loins after it, wc will tell you why Dick Varley wouldn't have listened to that ad- vice. Can a man feel as if his joints were wrenched out of their sockets, and listen to advice — be that advice good or bad ? Can he f-'cl as though these joints were trying to re-set and re-dislocate themselves perpetually, and listen to advice ? Can he feel as if ho were sitting down on red-hot iron, when he's not (I ii :M ?tlj 106 THE DOG CRUSOE. i ] i !' % si'iting down at all, and listen to advice ? Can he — but no ! why pursue the subject. Poor Dick spent that nij^ht in misery, and the greater part of the follow- ing day in sleep, to make up for it. When he got up to breakfast in the afternoon he felt much better, but shaky. " Now, pup," he said, stretching himself, " we'll go and see our horse. Ours, pup ; yours and mine : didn't you help to catch him, eh, pup ? " Crusoe acknowledged the fact with a wag and a play- ful " bow-wow — wow-oo-ow ! " and followed his master to the place where the horse had been picketed. It was standing there quite quiet, but looking a little timid. Dick went boldly up to it, and patted its head and stroked its nose, for nothing is so likely to alarm either a tame or a wild horse as any appearance of timidity or hesitation on the part of those who approach them. After treating it thus for a short time, he stroked down its neck, and then its shoulders — the horse ey- ing him all the time nervously. Gradually he stroked its back and limbs gently, and walked quietly round and round it once or twice, sometimes approaching and sometimes going away, but never either hesitating or doing anything abruptly. This done, he went down to the stream and filled his cap with water and carried it to the horse, which snuffed suspiciously and backed a little ; so ho laid th'> cap down, and went up and patted him again. Presently ho took up the cap and carried it to his nose. The poor creature was almost choking with thirst, so tiiat, the moment he understood m THE DOG CRUSOE. 197 felt brokod jc cy- bvoketl iround gelling bating I down irried icked and and huost Istood what was in the cap, he buried his lips in it and sucked it up. This was a great point gained : he had accepted a benefit at the hands of his new master ; he had be- come a debtor to man, and no doubt he felt the obli- gation. Dick filled the cap and the horse emptied it again, and again, and again, until its burning thirst was slaked. Tlien Dick went up to his shoulder, patted him, undid the line that fastened him, and vaulted lightly on his back ! We say lightly, for it was so, but it wasn't easily, as Dick could have told you ! However, he was deter- mined not to forego the training of his steed on account of what he would have called a " little bit pain." At this unexpected act the horse plunged and reared a good deal, and seemed inclined to go through the per- formance of the day before over again ; but Dick patted and stroked him into quiescence, and having done so, urged him into a gallop over the plains, causing the dog to gambol round in order that he might get accustomed to him. This tried his nerves a good deal, and no wonder, fo)' if he took Crusoe for a wolf, which no doubt ho did, he must have thought him a very giant of the pack. By degrees they broke into a furious gallop, and after breathing him well, Dick returned and tied him to the tree. Then ho rubbed him down again, and gave him another drink. This time the horse smelt his new master all over, and Dick felt that ho had conquered him by kindness. No doubt the tremen- dous run of the day before could scarcely be called kindness, but without this subduing run he never could , I il n i pi 198 THE DOG CRUSOE. have brought the offices of kindness to bear on so wild a steed. During all these operations Crusoe sat looking on with demure sagacity — drinking in wisdom and taking notes. We know not whether any notes made by the canine race have ever been given to the world, but certain are we that, if the notes and observations made by Crusoe on that journey were published, they would, to say the least, surprise us ! Next day Dick gave the wild horse his second lesson, and his name. He called him " Charlie," after a much- loved companion in the Mustang Valley. And long and heartily did Dick Varley laugh as he told the horse his future designation in the presence of Crusoe, for it struck him as somewhat ludicrous that a mustang which, two days ago, pawed the earth in all the pride of independent freedom, should suddenly come down so low as to carry a hunter on his back and be named Charlie. The next piece of instruction began by Crusoe being led up under Charlie's nose, and while Dick patted the dog with his right hand he patted the horse with his left. It backed a good deal at first and snorted, but Crusoe walked slowly and quietly in front of him several times, each time coming nearer, until he again stood under his nose ; then the horse smelt him nerv- ously, and gave a sigh of relief when he found that Crusoe paid no attention to him whatever. Dick then ordered the dog to lie down at Charlie's feet, and went to the camp to fetch his rifle, and buffalo robe, and pack of meat. These and all the other tilings belong- ing to him were presented for inspection, one by one, THE DOG CRUSOE. 199 to the horse, who arched his neck, caiul put forward his ears, and eyed them at first, but smelt them all over, and seemed to feel more easy in his mind. Next, the butt'alo robe was rubbed over his nose, then over his eyes and head, then down his neck and shoulder, and lastly was placed on his back. Then it was taken otf and jUiiKj on ; after that it was strapped on, and the various little items of the camp were attached to it. This done, Dick took up his rifle and let him smell it ; then he put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, vaulted on to his back, and rode away. Charlie's education was completed. And now our hero's journey began again in earnest, and with some prospect of its speedy termination. In this course of training through which Dick put his wild horse, he had been at much greater pains and had taken far longer time than is usuall}'' the case among the Indians, who will catch, and " break," and ride a wild horse into camp in less than three hours. But Dick wanted to do the thing well, which the Indians are not careful to do ; besides, it must be borne in re- membrance that this was his first attempt, and that his horse was one of the best and most high-spirited, while those caught by the Indians, as we have said, are gen- erally the poorest of a drove. Dick now followed the trail of his lost companions at a rapid pace, yet not so rapidly as he might have done, being averse to exhausting his good dog and his new companion. Each night he encamped under the shade of a tree or a bush when he could And one, or in the open prairie when there were none, and, picketing his it / 'I; I i'. il 1 i I '1 200 THE DOG CRUSOE. liorse to a short stake or pin which ho carried with him for the purpose, lit his fire, had supper, and lay down to rest. In a few days Charlie became so tame and so accustomed to his master's voice that he seemed quite reconciled to his new life. There can be no doubt what- ever that he had a great dislike to solitude ; for on one occasion, when Dick and Crusoe went off a mile or so from the camp, where Charlie was tied, and disappeared from his view, he was heard to neigh so loudly that Dick ran back, thinking the wolves must have attacked him; He was all right, however, and exhibited evident tokens of satisfaction when they returned. On another occasion his fear of beino: left alone was more clearly demonstrated. Dick had been unable to find wood or water that day, so he was obliged to encamp upon the open plain. The want of water was not seriously felt, however, for he had prepared a bladder in which he always carried enough to give him one pannikin of hoi sirup, and leave a mouthful for Crusoe and Charlie. Dried buffalo dung formed a substitute for fuel. Spreading his buffalo robe, he lit his fire, put on his pannikin to boil, and stuck up a piece of meat to roast, to the great delight of Crusoe, who sat looking on with much interest, Suddenly Charlie, wdio was picketed a few hundred yards off' in a grassy spot, broke his halter close by the headpiece, and with a snort of delight bounded away, prancing and kicking up his heels ! Dick heaved a deep sigh, for he felt sure that his horse was gone. However, in a little Charlie stopped, and raised his nose high in the air, as if to look for THE DOO CRUSOE. 201 Idred the tvay, his )ed, for his old equine companions. But they were gone : no answering neigh replied to his ; and he felt, probably for the lirst time, that he was really alone in the world. Having no power of smell, whereby he might have traced them out as the dog would have done, he looked in a bewildered and excited state all round the horizon. Then his eye fell on Dick and Crusoe sitting by their little fire. Charlie looked hard at them, and then aixain at the horizon ; and then, coming to the conclusion, no doubt, that the matter was quite beyond his comprehen- sion, he quietly took to feeding. Dick availed himself of the chance, and tried to catch him ; but he spent an hour with Crusoe in the vain attempt, and at last they gave it up in disgust and re- turned to the fire, where they finished their supper and went to bed. Next morning they saw Charlie feeding close at hand, so they took breakfast, and tried to catch him again. But it was of no use ; he was evidently coquetting with them, and dodged about and defied their utmost eftbrts, for there were only a few inches of line hanging to his head. At last it occurred to Dick that he would try the experiment of forsaking him. So he packed up his things, rolled up the buftalo robe, threw it and the riile on his shoulder, and walked deliberately away. " Come along, Crusoe ! " he cried, after walking a few paces. But Crusoe stood by the fire with his head up, and an expression on his face that said, " Hallo, man ! what's wrong? You've forgot Charlie! Hold on! Are you mad ?" illi if m \\ [I i w if ! t i ■ V; ji ij |i I'; I i t i I J 202 THE DOG CRUSOE. "Come here, Crusoe!" cried his master in a decided tone. Crusoe obeyed at once. Whatever mistake there might be, there was evidently none in that command ; so he lowered his head and tail humbly, and trotted on with his master, but he perpetually turned his head as he went, first on this side and then on that, to look and wonder at Charlie. When they were far away on the plain, Charlie sud- denly beca ne aware that something was wrong. He trotted to the brow of a slope, with his head and tail very high up indeed, anl looked after them ; then he looked at the fire, and neighed ; then he trotted quickly up to it, and seeing that everything was gone he began to neigh violently, and at last started ofl:' at full speed, and overtook his friends, passing within a few feet of them, and, wheeling round a few yards off* stood trem- bling like an aspen leaf. Dick called him by his name and advanced, M'hile Charlie met him half-way, and allowed himself to be saddled, bridled, and mounted forthwith. After this Dick had no further trouble with his wild horse. At his next camping-place, which was in the midst of a cluster of bushes close beside a creek, Dick came unex- pectedly upon a little wooden cross which marked the head of a grave. There was no inscription on it, but the Christian symbol told that it was the grave of a white man. It is impossible to describe the rush of mingled feelinrjs that filled the soul of the vouuGf hunter as he leaned on the nmzzle of his rifie and looked at this THE DOG CRUSOE. 203 solitary resting-place of one who, doubtless like luniself, had Leen a rovinix hunter. Had he been vounuj or old when he fell ? had he a mother in the distant settle- ment who watched and lonsfed and waited for the son that was never more to gladden her eyes ? had he been murdered, or had he died there and been buried by his sorrowing conn-ades ? These and a thousand questions passed rapidly through his mind as he gazed at the little cross. Suddenly he started. ** Could it be the grave of Joe or Henri ? " For an instant the idea sent a chill to his heart ; but it passed quickly, for a second glance showed that the grave was old, and that the wooden cross had stood over it for years. Dick turned away wdth a saddened heart; and that night, as he pored over the pages of Ids Bible, his mind was filled with many thoughts about eternity and the world to come. He, too, nuist come to the grave one day, and quit the beautiful prairies and his loved rifle. It was a sad thought; but while he meditated he thought upon his mother. " After all," he nuirmured, " there must be happiness without the rifle, and j'outh, and health, and the prairie ! My mother's happy, yet she don't shoot, or ride like wild-fire over the plains." Then that word which had been sent so sweetly to him through her hand came again to his mind, " My son, give me thine heart;" and as he read God's Book, ho met with the word, " Delight thyself in the Lord, and ho shall give thee the desire of thine heart." " Tlic da^rrc of thine heart" Dick repeated this, and pondered it till he fell asleep. ! Ifli I'' f I ' - If ii ii [1 lit i * ! I •) ' .1 . I ii 1 204 THE DOG CRUSOE. A misfortune soon after this befell Dick Varley which well-nigh caused hiui to give way to despair. For some time past he had been approaching the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains — those ragged, jagged, mighty hills which run through the whole continent from north to south in a continuous chain, and form, as it were, the backbone of America. One morning, as he threw the buffalo robe off his shoulders and sat up, he was horrified to find the whole earth covered with a mantle of snow. We say he was horrified, for this rendered it absolutely impossible any further to trace his companions either by scent or sight. For some time he sat musing bitterly on his sad fate, while his dog came and laid his head sympathizingly on his arm. " Ah, pup ! " he said, " I know ye'd help me if ye could! But it's all up now ; there's no chance of findin' them. — none ! " To this Crusoe replied by a low whine. He knew full well that something distressed his master, but he hadn't yet ascertained what it was. As something had to be done, Dick put the buffalo robe on his steed, and mounting said, as he was in the habit of doing each morning, " Lead on, pup." Crusoe put his nose to the ground and ran forward a few paces, then he returned and ran about snuffing and scraping up the snow. At last he looked up and uttered a long melancholy howl. "Ah! I knowed it," said Dick, pushing forward. " Come on, pup ; you'll have to follow now. Any way we must go on." THE DOG CRUSOE. 205 The snow that liad fallen was not deep enou<:^h to otibr the slightest obstruction to their advance. It was, indeed, only one of those occasional showers common to that pait of the country in the late autumn, which season had now crept upon Dick almost before he was aware of it, and he fully expected that it would melt away in a few days. In this hope he kept steadily advancing, until he found himself in the midst of those rocky fastnesses which divide the waters that flow into the Atlantic from those that flow into the PacinC Ocean. Still the slight crust of snow lay on tho ground, and he had no means of knowing whether he was going in the right direction or not. Game was abundant, and there was no lack of wood now, so that his night bivouac was not so cold or dreary as might have been expected. Travelling, however, had become diflficult, and even dangerous, owing to the rugged nature of the ground over which he proceeded. The scenery had completely changed in its character. Dick no longer coursed over the free, open plains, but he passed through beautiful valleys filled with luxuriant trees, and henmied in by stupendous mountains, whose rugged sides rose upward until the snow-clad peaks pierced the clouds. There was something awful in these dark solitudes, quite overwhelming to a youth of Dick's temperament. His heart began to sink lower and lower every da}'', and the utter impossibility of making up his min 208 THE DOGJ CRUSOE. t: pi. I' II! ■ Uj :; ( ])oarance. They arc not sufficiently curved to enable the grizzly bear to climb trees, like the black and brown bears ; and this inability on their part is often the only hope of the pursued hunter, who, if he succeeds in ascending' a ti'ee, is safe, for the time at least, from the bear's assaults. But " Caleb " is a patient creature, and will often wait at the foot of the tree for many hours for his victim. The average length of his body is about nine feet, but he sometimes attains to a still larger growth. Caleb is more carnivorous in his habits than other bears ; but, like them, he does not object to indulge occasionally in vegetable diet, being partial to the bird- cherry, the clioke-berry, and various shrubs. He has a sweet tooth, too, and revels in honey — when he can get it. The instant the grizzly bear beheld Dick Varley standing in his path, he rose on his hind legs and made a loud hissing noise, like a man breathing quick, but much harsher. To this Crusoe replied by a deep growl, and showing the utmost extent of his teeth, gums and all; and Dick cocked both barrels of his rifle. To say that Dick Varley felt no fear would be simply to make him out that sort of hero which does not exist in nature — namely, a perfect hero. He did feel a sensa- tion as if his bowels had suddenly melted into water ! Let not our reader think the worse of Dick for this. There is not a man living who, having met with a huge grizzly bear for the first time in his life in a wild, soli- tary place, all alone, has not experienced some such sensation. There was no cc .ardice in this feeling. bii-a- piply exist kensa- ratev ! this. Ihuge soli- Isucb [ling. THE DOG CRUSOE. 200 Fear is not cowardice. Actinjj in a wroniif and con- teniptible manner because of our fear is cowardice. It is said that Wellington or Napoleon, we forget which, once stood watching the muster of the men who were to form the forlorn-hope in storming a citadel. There were many brave, strong, stalw^art men there, in the prime of life, and flushed with the blood of high health and courage. There were also there a few stern- browed men of riper years, who stood perfectly silent, with lips compressed, and as pale as death. " Yonder veterans," said the general, pointing to these soldiers, " are men whose courage I can depend on ; they Imoiv what they are going to, the others don't!" Yes, these young soldiers very probably were brave; the others certainly were. Dick Varley stood for a few seconds as if thunder- struck, while the bear stood hissing at him. Then the liquefaction of his interior ceased, and he felt a glow of fire fjush throuijh his veins. Now Dick knew^ well enough that to fly from a grizzly bear was the sure and certain way of being torn to pieces, as when taken thus by surprise they almost invariably follow a retreating enemy. He also knew that if he stood where he was, perfectly still, the bear would get uncomfortable under his stare, and would retreat from him. But he neither intended to run away himself nor to allow the bear to do so ; he intended to kill it, so he raised his rifle quickly, " drew a bead," as the hunters express it, on the bear's heart, and flred. It immediately dropped on its fore legs and rushed at him. 14 I ^ ff 1 ; I ■■| i-J ^:i \M 210 THE DOG CRUSOE. " Back, Crusoe! out of the way, pup ! " shouted Dick, as his favourite was about to spring forward. Tiie dog retired, and Dick leaped behind a tree. As the bear passed he gave it the contents of the second barrel behind the shoulder, which brought it down ; but in another moment it rose and again ruslicd at him. Dick had no time to load, neither had he time to spring- up the thick tree beside which he stood, and the rocky nature of the ground out of which it grew rendered it impossible to dodge round it. His only resource was Hight ; but where was he to fly to ? If he ran along the open track, the bear would overtake him in a few seconds. On the right was a sheer precipice one hundred fecL liigh; on the left was an impenetrable thicket, in despair ho thought for an instant of clubbing his rifle and meeting the monster in close conflict : but the utter hopelessness of such an effort was too apparent to be entertained for a moment. He glanced up at the o. t- hanging clifl's. There were one or two rents and pro- jections close above him. In the twinkling of an eye he sprang up and grasped a lodge of about an inch broad, ten or twelve feet up, to which he clung while he glanced upward. Another projection was within reach ; he gained it, and in a few seconds he stood upon a ledge about twenty feet up the clilT, where he had just room to plant his feet firmly. Witl ^ ut waiting to look behind, he seijied liis powder- horn and loaded one bari'el of liis rifle ; and well was it for him tliat liis early training Imd fitted him to do this witli rapidity, for the bear daslied up the precipice after him at once. Tlie first time it missed its hold, and fell Ln Ivdcr- 'as it this I after II fell THE DOG CRUSOE. 211 l)nck ^vitll a savairo crowl ; but on the second attempt it snnk its long claws into the fissures between the rocks, and ascended steadily till within a foot of the place where Dick stood. At this moment Crusoe's obedience gave way before a sense of Dick's dan^'er. Utterinir one of his lion-like roars, he rushed u]) the precipice with such violence that, although naturally unable to climb, ho reached and seized the bear's flank, despite his master's stern order to " keep back," and in a moment the two rolled down the face of the rock together, just as Dick completed loading. Knowing that one stroke of the bea)"'s paw would be certain death to his poor dog, Dick leaped from his porch, and with one bound reached the ground at the Kamo moment with the struggling animals, and close beside them, and, beioro they had ceased rolling, he placed the muzzle of his rifle into tho bear's ear, and blew out its brains. Crusoe, strange to say, escaped with ordy one scratch on the side. It was a deep one, but not dangerous, and gave him but little pain at the time, although it caused him many a smart for some weeks after. Thus happily ended Dick's first encounter with a grizzly bear ; and although, in the course of his wild life, he shot many specimens of " Caleb," ho used to say that " ho an' pup wei'o never so near goin' under as on the day he (h't)pped Unit l)ar ! " Having refreshed himself with a long draught from a neighbouring I'ivulet, and washed (h'usoe's wound, Dick skinned the bear on the spot. I Hi ^ I- i { \ u '^ f . I I !i; UHi! .1; 212 THE DOG CRUSOE. " Wc chawed him up that time, didn't wc, pup ? " said Dick, with a smile of satisfaction, as he surveyed his prize. Crusoe looked up and asserted to this. " Gave us a hard tussle, though ; very nigh sent us both under, didn't he, pup ? " Crusoe agreed entirely, and, as if the remark re- minded him of honourable scars, he licked his wound. " Ah, pup ! " cried Dick, sympathetically, " does't hurt ye, eh, poor dog ? " Hiirt him ? such a question ! No, he should think not ; better ask if that leap from the precipice hurt yourself. So Crusoe might have said, but he didn't ; he took no notice of the remark whatever. " We'll cut him up now, pup," continued Dick. " The skin'U make a splendid bed for you an' me o' nights, and a saddle for Charlie." Dick cut out all the claws of the bear by the roots, and spent the remainder of that night in cleaning them and stringing them on a strip of leather to form a necklace. Independently of the value of these enormous claws (the largest as long as a man's middle finger) as an evidence of prowess, they formed a remarkably grace- ful collar, which Dick wore round his neck ever after with as nuich pride as if he had been a Pawnee warrior. When it was finished he held it out at arm's- lenjfth, and said, " Crusoe, my pup, ain't ye proud of it ? I'll teil ye Avhat it is, pup, the next time you an' I floor Caleb, I'll put the claws round your neck, an' make ye wear cm ever arter, so I will." THE DOG CRUSOE. 213 oots, lem |in a lOUS ) as ace- i'ter lor. I'll oor ye The dog did not seem quite to appreciate this piece of prospective good fortune. Vanity had no place in his honest breast, and, sooth to say, it had not a large place in that of his master either, as we may well grant when we consider that this first display of it was on the occasion of his hunter's soul having at last realized its brightest day-dream. Dick's dangers and triumphs seemed to accumulate on him rather thickly at this place, for on the very next day he had a narrow escape of being killed by a deer. The way of it was this. Having run short of meat, and not being particularly fond of grizzly bear steak, he shouldered his rifie and sallied forth in quest of game, accompanied by Crusoe, whose frequent glances towards his wounded side showed that, whatever may have been the case the day before, it " hurt " him now. They had not gone far when they came on the track of a deer in the snow, and followed it up till they spied a magnificent buck about three hundred yards off', standing in a level patch of ground which was every- where surrounded either by rocks or thicket. It was a long shot, but as the nature of the ground rendered it impossible for Dick to get nearer without being seen, he fired, and wounded the buck so badly that he came up with it in a few minutes. The snow had drifted in the place where it stood bolt upright, ready for a spring, so Dick went round a little way, Crusoe following, till he was in a proper position to fire again. Just as he pulled the trigger, Crusoe gave a howl behind him and disturbed his aim, so that he feared he had missed : but M If ft-r » ll :■»■ r 214 THE DOG CRUSOE. ill the deer fell, and he hurried towards it. On coming up, however, the buck sprang to its legs, rushed at him with its hair bristling, knocked him down in the snow, and deliberately commenced stamping him to death. Dick was stunned for a moment, and lay quite still, so the deer left ott' pommelling him, and stood looking at him. But the instant he moved it plunged at him again and gave him another pounding, until he was content to lie still. This was done several times, and Dick felt his strength going fast. He was surprised that Crusoe did not come to his rescue, and once he cleared his mouth and whistled to him ; but as the deer gave him another pounding for this, he didn't attempt it again. He now for the first time bethought him of his knife, and quietly drew it from his belt ; but the deer observed the motion, and was on him again in a moment. Dick, however, sprang up on his left elbow, and making several desperate thrusts up- ward, succeeded in stabbing the animal to the heart. Rising and shaking the snow from his garments, he whistled loudly to Crusoe, and, on listening, heard him whining piteously. He hurried to the place whence the sound came, and found that the poor dog had fallen into a deep pit or crevice in the rocks, which had been concealed from view by a crust of snow, and he was now making frantic but unavailing ettbrts to leap out. Dick soon freed him from liis prison by means of his belt, which he let down for the dog to grasp, and then returned to camp with as much deer-meat as he could carry. Dear meat it certainly was to him, for it had nearly cost him his life, and left him all black and THE DOG CRUSOE. 215 blue for weeks after. Happily no bones "were broken, so the incident only contined him a day to hi;s encamp- ment. Soon after this the snow fell thicker than ever, and it became evident that an unusually early winter was about to set in among the mountains. This wa a terrible calamity, for if the regular snow of winter set in, it would be impossible for him either to advance or retreat. While he was sitting on his bearskin by the camp- tire one day, thinking anxiously what he should do, and feeling that he must cither make the attempt to escape or perish miserably in that secluded spot, a strange, un- wonted soimd struck upon his ear, and caused both him and Crusoe to spring violently to their feet and listen. Could he be dreamino' ? — it seemed like the sound of human voices. For a moment he stood with his eyes rivettod on the ground, his lips apart, and his nostrils distended, as he listened with the utmost intensity. Then he darted out and bounded round the edge of a rock which concealed an extensive but narrow valley from his view, and there, to his amazement, he beheld a band of about a hundred human beings advancing on horseback slowly through the snow. T (I i'- I }• i f t •i 4 I •II :i ■I I I. iii !> * [ri Mr '• '? ■I !■ Mi CHAPTER XVIII. A surprise, and a piece off/ond neivs — The fur-traders — Crusoe proved, and the Pciyans pursued. DICK'S first and most natural impulse, on beholding this band, was to mount his horse and fly, for his mind naturally enough recurred to the former rough treatment he had experienced at the hands of Indians. On second thoughts, however, he considered it wiser to throw himself upon the hospitality of the strangers ; " for," thought he, " they can but kill me, an' if I re- main here I'm like to die at any rate." So Dick mounted his wild horse, grasped his rifle in his right hand, and, followed by Crusoe, galloped full tilt down the valley to meet them. He had heard enough of the customs of savage tribes, and had also of late experienced enough, to convince him that when a man found himself in the midst of an overwhelming force, his best policy was to assume an air of confident courage. He therefore approached them at his utmost speed. The effect upon the advancing band was electrical ; and little wonder, for the young hunter's appearance was very striking. His horse, from having rested a good deal of late, was full of spirit. Its neck was mr I I THE DOG CRIJ.'OE. 217 arched, its nostrils expanded, ^nd its mane and tail never having been checked in their growth Hew wildly around him in voluminous curls. Dick's own hair, not having- been clipped for many months, appeared scarcely less wild, as they thundered down the rocky pass at what appeared a break-neck gallop. Add to this the grandeur of the scene out of which they sprang, iuid the gigantic dog that bounded by his side, and you will not be surprised to hear that the Indian warriors clus- tered together, and prepared to receive this bold horse- man as if he, in his own proper person-, were a complete squadron of cavalry. It is proV)able, also, that they fully expected the tribe of which Dick was the chief to be at his heels. As he drew near the excitement among the strangers seemed very great, and, from the peculiarity of the various cries that reached him, he knew that there were women and children in the band — a fact which, in such a place and at such a season, was so unnatural that it surprised him very much. He noted also that, though the men in front were Indians, their dresses were those of trappers and hunters, and he almost leaped out of his saddle when he observed that " Pale-faces " were among them. But he had barely time to note these facts when he was up with the band. According to Indian custom, he did not check his speed till he was within four or five yards of the advance-guard, who stood in a line before him, quite stilJ, and with their rifles lying loosely in their left palms ; then he reined his steed almost on its haunches. One of the Indians advanced and spoke a few words ■! il '. i- . ! i h 218 THE DOG CRUSOE. :i' in a language which was quite unintelligible to Dick, who replied, in the little Pawnee he could muster, that he didn't understand him. " Why, you must be a trapper ! " exclaimed a thick- set, middle-aged man, riding out from the group. " Can you speak English ? " " Ay, that can I," cried Dick joyfully, riding up and shaking the stranger heartily by the hand ; " an' right glad am I to fall in wi' a white-skin an' a civil tongue in his head." " Good sooth, sir,'' replied the stranger, with a quiet smile on his kind, weather-beaten face, ** I can return you the compliment ; for when I saw you come thun- dering down the corrie with that wonderful horse and no less wonderful dog of yours, I thought you were the wild man o' the mountain himself, and had an ambush ready to back you. But, young man, do you mean to say that you live here in the mountain all alone after this fashion ? " " No, that I don't. I've corned here in my travels, but truly this bean't my home. But, sir (for I see you are what the fur-traders call a bourgeois), how comes it that such a band as this rides i' the mountains ? D'ye mean to say that they live here ? " Dick looked round in surprise, as he spoke, upon the crowd of mounted men and women, with children and pack- horses, that now .surrounded him. " 'Tis a fair question, lad. I am a principal among the fur-traders whose chief trading-post lies near the Pacific Ocean, on the west side of these mountains ; and J have como with these trappers and their families, as THE DOG CRUSOE. 210 you see, to hunt tlie beaver and other animals for a season in the mountains. We've never been here be- fore ; but that's a matter of little moment, for it's not the first time I've been on what may be called a dis- covery-trading expedition. We are somewhat entangled, however, just now among these wild passes, ani. if you can guide us out of our difficulties to the east side of the mountains, I'll thank you heartily and pay you M^ell. But first tell me who and what you are, if it's a fair question." " My name is Dick Varley, and my home's in the Mustang Valley, near the Missouri River. As to ivhat I am — I'm notliin' yet, but I hope to desarve the name o' a hunter some day. I can guide you to the east side o' the mountains, for I've comed from there ; but more than that I can't do, for I'm a stranger to the country here, like yourself. But you're on the east side o' the mountains already, if I mistake not ; only these moun- tains are so rugged and jumbled up, that it's not easy tellin' where ye are. And what," continued Dick, " may be the name o' the bourgeois who speaks to me ? " " My name is Cameron — Walter Cameron — a well- known name amono; the Scottish hills, althouich it sounds a little strange here. And now, young man, will you join my party as guide, and afterwards remain as trapper ? It will pay you better, I think, than roving about alone." Dick shook his head and looked arave. " I'll uuide you," said he, " as far as my knowledge '11 help me ; but after that I must return to look for two comrades ■ I ' \ k Si I I , ! !i ill f is; 1 I' 220 THE DOG CRUSOE. a whom T have lost. They have been driven into the mountains by a band of Injuns. God grant they may not have bin scalped ! " Tlie trader's face looked troubled, and he spoke with one of his Indians for a few minutes in earnest, hurried tones, " What were they like, young man ? " Dick described them. " The same," continued the trader. " They've been seen, lad, not more than two days ago, by this Indian here, when he was out hunting alone some miles away from our camp. He cam*^ suddenly on a band of Indians who had two prisoners with them, such as you describe. They were stout, said you ? " " Yes, both of them," cried Dick, listening with in- tense eagerness. " Ay. They were tied to their horses, an' from what I know of these fellows I'm sure they're doomed. But I'll help you, my friend, as well as I can. They can't be far from this. I treated my Indian's story about them as a mere fabrication, for he's the most notorious liar in my company ; but he seems to have spoken truth for once." " Thanks, thanks, good sir," cried Dick. " Had we not best turn back and follow them at once ? " " Nay, friend, not quite so fast," replied Cameron, pointing to his people. "These must be provided for first, but I shall be ready before the sun goes down. And now, as I presume you don't bivouac in the snow, will you kindly conduct us to your encampment, if it be not far hence ? " ■ : =T THE DOG CRUSOE. 221 Altlioiirrh burning with impatience to fly to the roscuo of liis friends, Dick felt constrained to comply with so reasonable a request, so he led the way to his camping- place, where the band of fur-traders immediately began to pitch th^ir tents, cut down wood, kindle fires, till their kettles with water, cook their food, and, in fact, make themselves comfortable. The wild spot which, an hour before, had been so still, and grand, and gloomy, was now, as if by magic, transformed into a bustling village, with bright fires blazing among the rocks and bushes, and merry voices of men, women, and children ringing in the air. It seemed almost incredible, and no wonder Dick, in his bewilderment, had difficulty in believing it was not all a dream. In days long gone by the fur-trade in that country w^as carried on in a very different way from the manner in which it is now conducted. These wdld regions, in- deed, are still as lonesome and untenanted (save by wild beasts and w^andering tribes of Indians) as they were then ; but the Indians of the present day have become accustomed to the " Pale-face " trader, whose little wooden forts or trading-posts are dotted here and there, at wide intervals, all over the land. But in the days of which w^e write it was not so. The fnr-ti*aders at that time went forth in armed bands into the- heart of the Indians' country, and he who went forth did so " with his life in his hand." As in the case of the soldier who went out to battle, there was great proba- bility that he might never return. The band of which Walter Cameron was the chief had, many months before, started from one of the dis- ii V . w I! I, ■f! 4 222 THE DUG CRUSOE. 1 1 '! 1 tant posts of Oregon on a lumting expedition into the then totally unknown lands of the Snake Indians. It consisted of ahout sixty men, thirty women, and as many children of various ages — about a hundred and twenty souls in all. Many of the boys were capable of using the gun and setting a beaver-trap. The men were a most motley set. There were Canadians, half-breeds, Iroquois, and Scotchmen. Most of the women had Indian blood in their veins, and a few were pure Indians. The equipment of this strange band consisted of up- wards of two hundred beaver-traps — which are similar to our rat-traps, with this difference, that they have tw^o springs and no teeth — seventy guns, a few articles for trade with the Indians, and a large supply of powder and ball ; the whole — men, women, children, goods, and chattels — being carried on the backs of nearly four hundred horses. Many of these horses, at starting, were not laden, being designed for the transport of furs that were to be taken in the course of the season. For food this adventurous party depended entirely on their guns, and during the march hunters were kept constantly out ahead. As a matter of course, their living was precarious. Sometimes their kettles were overflowing ; at others they scarce refrained from eating their horses. But during the months they had already spent in the wilderness good living had been the rule, starvation the exception. They had already collected a large quantity of beaver skins, which at that time were among the most valuable in the market, although they are now scarcely saleable ! m pe th< e( Th I'll bar sha 'I THE DUU cut SUE. 22.S Having shot t\v<> wild horses, seven elks, six small deer, and four big-hoined sheep the day hefore they met Diek Viirley, the eamp kettles were full, and the people consequently happy. " Now, Master Dick N'arley," said Cameron, touching the young hunter on the shoulder as he stood ready ecpiipped by one of the camp-tires, " I'm at your service. The people won't need any more looking after to-night. I'll divide my men — thirty shall go after this i-ascally band of Peigans, for such I believe they are, and thirty shall remain to guard the camp. Are you ready ? " " Ready ! ay, this hour past." " Mount then, lad ; the men have already been told oft", and arc mustering down yonder where the deer gave you such a licking." Dick needed no second bidding. He vaulted on Charlie's back, and along with tlieir commander joined the men, who were tliirty as fine, hardy, reckless look- ing fellows as one could desire for a forlorn-hope. They were chatting and laughing while they examined their guns and saddle-girths. Their horses were sorry look- ing animals compai-ed with the magnificent creature that Dick bestrode, but they were hardy, nevertheless, and well fitted for their peculiar w^ork. " My ! wot a blazer ! " exclaimed a trapper as Dick rode up. " Where you git him ? " incjuired a half-breed. '' I caught him," answered Dick. " Baw ! " cried the iirst speaker. Dick took no notice of this last remark. " No, did ye though ? " he asked again. I 3 i ■■ fl I.IJ ti ' ! » 1 t I li ■ I 224 THE DOG CRUSOE. " I did," answered Dick quietly. " I creased liim in tlic praiiie ; you can see the mark on his neck if you look." The men began to feel that the young hunter Wfis perhaps a little beyond them at their own trade, and re- garded him with increased respect. " Look sharp now, lads," said Cameron, impatiently, to several dilatory members of the band. " Night will be on us ere long." " .Who sold ye the bear-claw collar ? " inquired an- other man of Dick. " I didn't buy it. I killed the bear and made it." " Did ye, though, all be yer lone ? " " Ay ; that wasn't much, was it ? " " You've begun well, yonker," said a tall, middle-aged hunter, wdiose general appearance was nou unlike that of Joe Blunt. " Jest keep clear o' the Injuns an' the grog bottle, an' ye've a glor'cas life before ye." At this point the conversation was interrupted by the order being given to move on, which was obeyed in silence, and the cavalcade, descending the valley, entered one of the gorges in the mountains. For the first half-mile Cameror >'ode a little ahead of his men, then he turned to speak to one of Lhem, iiul for the first time observed Crusoe trotting close beside his master's horse. " Ah ! Master Dick," he exclaimed with a troubled expression, " that won't do. It would never do to take a dog on an expedition like this." " Why not ? " asked Dick; " the pup's quiet and peace- able. THE DOG CRUSOE. 225 " I doubt it not ; but he will betray our presence to the Indians, which migh'^ be inconvenient." " I have travelled more than a thousand miles through prairie and forest, among game an' among Injuns, an' the pup never betrayed me yet," said Dick, with sup- pressed vehemence. " He has saved my life more than once though," " You seem to have perfect confidence in your dog, but as this is a serious matter you must not expect me to share in it without proof of his trustworthiness." " The pup may be useful to us ; how would you have it proved ? " inquired ]3ick. " Any way you like." "You forgot your belt at starting, I think I heerd ye say." "Yes, I did," replied the trader, siT^iPng. Dick immediately took hold of Cameron's coat, and bade Crusoe smell it, which the dog did very carefully. Then he showed him his own belt and said, " Go back to the camp and fetch it, pup." Crusoe was oif in a moment, and in less than twentv minutes returned with Cameron's belt in his mouth. " Well, I'll trust him," said Cameron, patting Crusoe's head. " Forward, lads ' " and away they went at a brisk trot along the bottom of a beautiful valley on each side of which the mountains towered in dark masses. Soon the moon rose and afforded light suffici' nt to enable them to travel all night in the track of the Indian hunter who said he had seen the Peigans, and who was constituted guide to the part^i . Hour after liour the horsemen pressed on without check, now galloping over 15 1^ [W: 1 f i 1 ; ■ ; 4- j ;1 \ 1 ' 1; M III i I I ! i 226 THE DOG CRUSOE. a level plain, now bounding by the banks of a rivulet, or bending their heads to escape the boughs of over- hanging trees, and anon toiling slowly up among the rocks of some narrow defile. At last the moon set, and the order was given to halt in a little plain where there were wood and water. The horses were picketed, a fire kindled, a mouthful of dried meat hastily eaten, the watch was set, and then each man scraped away the snow, spread some branches on the ground, and wrapping himself in his blanket, went to sleep with his feet presented towards t^o fire. Two hours were allowed for rest; the?i 'V were awakened, and in a few minutes were off again by the gray light of dawn. In this way they travelled two nights and a day. At the end of that time they caT^^e suddenly on a small party of nine Indians, v/ho were seated on the gror d with their snow-shoes and blankets by their sides. They had evidently been taken by sur- prise, but they made no attempt to escape, knowing tliat it was useless. Each sat still with his bow and arrows between his legs on the ground ready for instant use. As soon as Cameron spoke, however, in their own language they felt relieved, and began to talk. " Where do you come from, and what are you doing here ? " asked the trader. " We have come to trade with the white men," one of them replied, " and to hunt. We have come from the Missouri. Our country is far away." " Do Peigans hunt with luar-arroiva ? " asked Camei^yii, pointing to their weapons. ! were inkcts sur- [owing IV and stari own K.loing one from lei:..Ti, THE DOG CRUSOE. 227 This question seemed to perplex them, for they saw thiit their interrogator knew the dift'ei'ence between a war and a hunting; arrow — the former beino" barbed in order to render its extraction from the wound diffcult, while the head of the latter is round, and can be drawn out of game that has been killed, and used again. " And do Peigans," continued Cameron, " come from a far country to trade with the white men with nothing f " Again the Indians were silent, for they had not an article to trade about them. Cameron now felt convinced that this party of Peigans, into whose hands Joe Blunt and Henri had fallen, were nothing else than a war party, and that the men now before him were a scouting party sent out from them, probably to spy out his own camp, on the trail of which they had fallen, so he said to them : — " The Peigans are not wise men ; they tell lies to the traders. I will tell you that you are a war party, and that you are only a few warriors sent out to spy the traders' camp. You have also two Pale-face prisoners in your camp. You cannot deceive me. It is useless to try. Now, conduct me to your camp. ^\y object is not war ; it is peace. I will speak with your chiefs about trading with the white men, and we will smoke the pipe of peace. Are my words good ? " Despite their proverbial control of muscle, these In- dians could not conceal their astonishment at hearing so much of their affairs thus laid bare ; so they said that the Pale-face chief was wise, that he must be a great medicine man, and that what he said was all true except about the Vviiite men. They had never seen any I ii I- .1 If jiii \'i 228 THE DOG CRUSOE. \i' i ri ,1 •1" il Si Pale-faces, and knew nothing whatever about those he spoke of. This was a terrible piece of news to poor Dick, and at first his heart fairly sank within him, but by degrees he came to be more hopeful. He concluded that if these men told lies in regard to one thing, they would do it in regard to another, and perhaps they might have some strong reason for denying any knowledge of Joe and Henri. Thv' Indians now packed up the buffalo robes on which had slept, and the mouthful of provisions they had laken with them " I don't believe a word of what they say about your friends," said Cameron to Dick in a low tone while the Indians were thus engaged. " Depend upon it they hope to hide them till they can send to the settlements and get a ransom, or till they get an opportunity of torturing them to death before their women and chil- dren when they get back to their own village. But we'll balk them, my friend, do not fear." The Indians were soon ready to start, for they were cumbered with marvellously little camp equipage. In less than half-an-hour after their discovery they were running like deer ahead of the cavalcade in the direction of the Peigan camp. ; ( he (JHAPTER XIX. S 5 kere In ere Ition Adventures vuth the Peiiians — Crusoe dues