The Dog Crusoe and his Master, Robert Michael Ballantyne [mystery books to read TXT] 📗

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 re-loaded 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 ye 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 me, 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 suchlike. No wonder then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot syrup 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 bite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they ate together; and, when Dick lay that night under the willow branches looking up through them at the stars, with his feet to the fire, and Crusoe close along his side, he thought 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 himself again." The 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 comrades, which he had no difficulty in finding and keeping, now that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the buffalo that he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders, and the skin of another animal that he had shot a few days 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 magnificent 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 flying 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 illness might have rendered his hand too unsteady for so extremely delicate an operation.

In order to crease a wild horse the hunter requires to be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the west who carries a rifle that can do it successfully. Creasing consists in sending a bullet through the gristle of the mustang's neck, 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 only stunned, and if left for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearly as well as ever. When hunters crease a horse successfully 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 mustangs which roam in wild freedom on the prairies of the far