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

doubt he felt the obligation.
Dick filled the cap and the horse emptied it
again, and again, and again, until its burning thirst
was slaked. Then 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 determined
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 performance
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,
for if he took Crusoe for a wolf, which no doubt he 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 he rubbed him down again, and
gave him another drink. This time the horse smelt
his new master all over, and Dick felt that he had
conquered him by kindness. No doubt the tremendous
run of the day before could scarcely be called
kindness, but without this subduing run he never could
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 nervously,
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 things belonging
to him were presented for inspection, one by one,
to the horse, who arched his neck, and 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 buffalo 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
off and flung 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 usually 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 remembrance
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 generally
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 find one, or in the
open prairie when there were none, and, picketing his
horse to a short stake or pin which he 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 whatever
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 being 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 hot 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, who 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
his old equine companions. But they were gone; no
answering neigh replied to his; and he felt, probably
for the first 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 again
at the horizon; and then, coming to the conclusion, no
doubt, that the matter was quite beyond his comprehension,
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 returned
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 efforts,
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 buffalo robe, threw it and the rifle
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?"

"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 suddenly
became aware that something was wrong. He
trotted to the brow of a slope, with his head and tail
very high up indeed, and 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 off at full speed,
and overtook his friends, passing within a few feet of
them, and, wheeling round a few yards off, stood trembling
like an aspen leaf.

Dick called him by his name and advanced, while
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 unexpectedly
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
feelings that filled the soul of the young hunter as he
leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and looked at this
solitary resting-place of one who, doubtless like himself,
had been a roving hunter. Had he been young or old
when he fell? had he a mother in the distant settlement
who watched and longed 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 comrades? 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 with a saddened heart; and that
night, as he pored over the pages of his Bible, his mind
was filled with many thoughts about eternity and the
world to come. He, too, must 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 murmured,
"there must be happiness without the rifle, and youth,
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, he
met with the word, "Delight thyself in the Lord, and he
shall give thee the desire of thine heart." "The desire
of thine heart" Dick repeated this, and pondered it
till he fell asleep.

A misfortune soon after this befell Dick Varley which
well-nigh caused him 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