The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies, - [books for new readers .TXT] 📗

he felt light enough in person if not
in heart. His worldly goods were not 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
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 perplexity
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 arm
might afford. To desert them, and make for the settlement,
he held, would 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 the Rocky
Mountains, so that, if they had escaped the Indians, he
thought there 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 oppressive
that the young hunter sprang forward at a run
over the plain, as if to fly from solitude. He soon became
so absorbed, however, in his efforts to find the
trail of his companions, that he forgot all other considerations,
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 sped on again, and
was soon seated beneath a willow, drinking water from
the cool stream. No game was to be found here, but
there were 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 were 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 pursued;
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 willows,
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
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 before,
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 finding
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 buffaloes
had traversed it in all directions, he 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 buffaloes. But he was
again disappointed, for the buffalo tracks still continued,
and the ground became less capable of showing a footprint.

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 he
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 suffocated. Towards
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 water glancing
in the beams of the setting sun.

Dick tried to shout for joy, but his parched throat
refused to give utterance to the voice. It mattered
not. Exerting all his remaining strength he rushed
down the bank, dropped his rifle, and plunged headforemost
into the stream.

The first mouthful sent a thrill of horror to his heart;
it was salt as brine!

The poor youth's cup of bitterness was now full to
overflowing. Crawling out of the stream, he sank down
on the bank in a species of lethargic torpor, from which,
he awakened next morning in a raging fever. Delirium
soon rendered him insensible to his sufferings. The
sun rose like a ball of fire, and shone down with scorching
power on the arid plain. What mattered it to
Dick? He was far away in the shady groves of the
Mustang Valley, chasing the deer at times, but more
frequently cooling his limbs and sporting with Crusoe
in the bright blue lake. Now he was in his mother's
cottage, telling her how he had thought of her when
far away on the prairie, and what a bright, sweet word
it was she had whispered in his ear--so unexpectedly,
too. Anon he was scouring over the plains on horseback,
with the savages at his heels; and at such times
Dick would spring with almost supernatural strength
from the ground, and run madly over the burning plain;
but, as if by a species of fascination, he always returned
to the salt river, and sank exhausted by its side, or
plunged helplessly into its waters.

These sudden immersions usually restored him for a
short time to reason, and he would crawl up the bank
and gnaw a morsel of the maple sugar; but he could not
eat much, for it was in a tough, compact cake, which
his jaws had not power to break. All that day and
the next night he lay on the banks of the salt stream,
or rushed wildly over the plain. It was about noon of
the second day after his attack that he crept slowly
out of the water, into which he had plunged a few
seconds before. His mind was restored, but he felt an
indescribable sensation of weakness, that seemed to him
to be the approach of death. Creeping towards the
place where his rifle lay, he fell exhausted beside it,
and laid his cheek on the Bible, which had fallen out
of his pocket there.

While his eyes were closed in a dreamy sort of half-waking
slumber, he felt the rough, hairy coat of an animal
brush against his forehead. The idea of being torn
to pieces by wolves flashed instantly across his mind,
and with a shriek of terror he sprang up--to be almost
overwhelmed by the caresses of his faithful dog.

Yes, there he was, bounding round his master, barking
and whining, and giving vent to every possible
expression of canine joy!



CHAPTER XIV.


Crusoe's return, and his private adventures among the Indians--Dick
at a very low ebb--Crusoe saves him.

The means by which Crusoe managed to escape
from his two-legged captors, and rejoin his master,
require separate 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 dodging 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
dragged him down. At the same moment the other
Indians came up, and one of them turned aside to the
rescue. This man happened to have an old gun, of
the cheap sort at that time exchanged for peltries by
the fur-traders. With the butt of this he struck
Crusoe a blow on the head that sent him sprawling on
the grass.

The rest of the savages, as we have seen, continued
in pursuit of Dick until he leaped into the river; then
they returned, took the saddle and bridle off his dead
horse, and rejoined their comrades. Here they held a
court-martial on Crusoe, who was now bound foot and
muzzle with cords. Some were for killing him; others,
who admired his noble appearance, immense size, and
courage, thought it would be well to carry him to their
village and keep him. There was a pretty violent dispute
on the subject, but at length it was agreed that
they should spare his life in the meantime, and perhaps
have a dog-dance round him when they got to their
wigwams.

This dance, of which Crusoe was to be the chief
though passive performer, is peculiar to some of the
tribes east of the Rocky Mountains, and consists in
killing a dog and cutting out its liver, which is afterwards
sliced into shreds or strings and hung on a pole
about the height of a man's head. A band of warriors
then come and dance wildly round this pole, and each
one in succession goes up to the raw liver and bites a
piece off it, without, however, putting his hands near
it. Such is the dog-dance, and to such was poor Crusoe
destined by his fierce captors, especially by the one
whose throat still bore very evident marks of his teeth.

But Crusoe was much too clever a dog to be disposed
of in so disgusting a manner. He had privately resolved
in his own mind that he would escape; but the
hopelessness of his ever carrying that resolution into
effect would have been apparent to any one who could
have seen the way in which his muzzle was secured,
and his four paws were tied together in a bunch, as
he hung suspended across the saddle of one of the
savages!

This particular party of Indians who had followed
Dick Varley determined not to wait for the return of
their comrades who were in pursuit of the other two
hunters, but to go straight home, so for several days
they galloped away over the prairie. At nights, when
they encamped, Crusoe was thrown on the