between his hind legs in a continuous shower. When
the sand accumulated so much behind 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 looked up at Dick with an
"it-won't-do,-I-fear,-there's-nothing-here" expression on his
face.
"Seek him out, pup!" repeated Dick.
"Oh! very good," mutely answered the dog, and went
at it again, tooth and nail, harder than ever.
In 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
damp
. Hope now reanimated Dick Varley, and by
various devices he succeeded in getting the dog to scrape
away a sort of tunnel from the hole, into which he
might roll himself and put down his lips to drink when
the water should rise high enough. Impatiently and
anxiously he lay watching the moisture slowly accumulate
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 water.
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
gazing in surprise at his own emaciated visage as reflected
in the pool.
The same afternoon Crusoe, in a private hunting excursion
of his own, discovered and caught a prairie-hen,
which he quietly proceeded to devour on the spot, when
Dick, who saw what had occurred, whistled to him.
Obedience was engrained in every fibre of Crusoe's
mental and corporeal being. He did not merely answer
at once to the call--he
sprang
to it, leaving the prairie-hen
untasted.
"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 drank the blood, and
then gave the flesh to the dog, while he crept to the
pool again for another draught. Ah! think not, reader,
that although we have treated this subject in a slight
vein of pleasantry, because it ended well, that therefore
our tale is pure fiction. Not only are Indians glad to
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 flood 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.
Health and happiness return
--
Incidents of the journey
--
Abuffalo shot
--
A wild horse "creased"
--
Dick's battle witha mustang
.
Dick Varley's fears and troubles, in the meantime,
were ended. On the day following he
awoke refreshed and happy--so happy and light at
heart, as he felt the glow of returning health coursing
through 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, but was powerfully
convinced of his true condition by the miserable
stagger that resulted from the effort.
However, he knew he was recovering, so he rose, and
thanking God for his recovery, and for the new hope
that was raised in 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,
earnestly
--the story of
Christ's love for sinful man. He at last fell asleep over
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. Upon this occasion he was little
inclined to take a humorous view of the vagaries of
these curious little creatures, but he shot one, and, as
before, ate part of it raw. These creatures are so active
that 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 occasion.
That night the travellers came to a stream of
fresh water, and Dick killed a turkey, so that he determined
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 everywhere 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 off. The wind was blowing
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
his master's finger imposed silence and caution. Trembling
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 recklessly--and
the buffalo fell! It rose once or twice and
stumbled forward a few paces, then it fell again. Meanwhile
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 difference between a written
letter
and a given
sign?
Yes, Crusoe spoke. He said to Dick as plain as dog
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
how
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 buffalo
at the same time. For, ye see, we'll 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 Varley! He smiled to think how earnestly
he had been talking to the dog; but he did not cease to
do it, for although 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 that it fell pleasantly on
another ear in that lonely wilderness.
Our hero now set about his preparations as vigorously
as he could. He cut out the buffalo's tongue--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 completing
of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest
he resumed his labours. The next thing was to light a
fire--a comfort 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 difficulty,
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 absolutely delicious!
Really one has no notion what he can do if he makes
believe
very hard
. 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 anything,
as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs,
who have fancied that they were made of all sorts of
things--glass and porcelain, and such like. No wonder
then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and
hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as
the most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these 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 manoeuvred with his head and face. He opened
his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head
first 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
good deal more to the other. Then he brought 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. Presently 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