capabilities of the Newfoundland dog. Indeed, some
have even gone the length of saying 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 actually been performed by
Newfoundland dogs incline us almost to believe that,
like man, they are gifted with reasoning powers.
But every one does not know the trouble and patience
that is required in order to get a juvenile dog to understand
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 we did not remark it sooner, chiefly
because up to this period in his eventful history he was
little better than a ball of fat and hair), that his coat
was mingled jet-black and pure white, and remarkably
glossy, curly, and thick.
A week after the shooting-match Crusoe's education
began. Having fed him for 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 can
scarcely 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 encouragement, to
make it up again.
Well; Dick Varley began by calling out, "Crusoe!
Crusoe! come here, pup."
Of course Crusoe knew his name by this time, for it
had been so often used 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 be
remembered that he was still a very young pup, with
soft, flabby muscles.
"Now, I'm goin' to begin yer edication, pup; think
o' that."
Whether Crusoe thought of that or not we cannot
say, but he looked up in his 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 much to the other side;
whereat his master burst into an uncontrollable fit of
laughter, and Crusoe immediately began barking vociferously.
"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 yard 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 worry it with intense gratification. As
for "Fetch it," he neither understood the words nor
cared a straw about them.
Dick Varley rose immediately, and rescuing the
mitten, resumed his seat on a rock.
"Come here, Crusoe," he repeated.
"Oh! certainly, by all means," said Crusoe--no! he
didn't exactly
say
it, but really he
looked
these words
so
evidently that we 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 that, no one
else can absolutely affirm that he wouldn't.
Well, Dick Varley did do it over again, and Crusoe
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 impatience.
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--and the next again, with the like unfavourable 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 rewarding
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 go through his lesson. This new course of conduct
seemed to perplex Crusoe not a little, for on his way
down to the beach he paused frequently and looked
back at the cottage, and then expressively up at his
master's face. But the master was inexorable; he went
on, and Crusoe followed, for
true
love had now taken
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 immense disgust. Then the mitten
was thrown as heretofore, and Crusoe made a few steps
towards it, but being in no mood for play he turned
back.
"Fetch it," said the teacher.
"I won't," replied the learner mutely, by 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 forward
with 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
should have 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."
Crusoe looked uncertain for a moment, then he picked
up the mitten and laid it at his master's feet. The
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.
Our hero enlarged upon--Grumps
.
Two years passed away. The Mustang Valley settlement
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 Redskins 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. Faithfully
and patiently had his young master trained his
mind, until he fitted him to be a meet companion in the
hunt. To "carry" and "fetch" were now but trifling
portions of the dog's accomplishments. He could dive
a fathom deep in the lake and bring up any article that
might have been dropped or thrown in. His swimming
powers were marvellous, and so powerful were his
muscles that he seemed to spurn the water while passing
through it, with his broad chest high out of the
curling wave, at a speed 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
second bidding. When Dick went out hunting, he
used frequently to drop a mitten or a powder-horn unknown
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
times his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quiet
walk with Dick Varley to anything 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, who 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" he went, when he said
"Come" he came. If he had been in the midst of an
excited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick had
called out, "Down, Crusoe," 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 extremities--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 perfection,
it was exhibited in the person of Crusoe. But,
indeed, it would be difficult to say which part of his expressive
face expressed most--the cocked ears of expectation,