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twg_000012582200 | It consisted in this,--an ordinary large-headed nail was driven a short way into a plank or a tree, and the hunters, standing at a distance of fifty yards or so, fired at it until they succeeded in driving it home. On the present occasion the major resolved to test their shooting by making the distance seventy yards. S... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582201 | older men shook their heads. "It's too far," said one; "ye might as well try to snuff the nose o' a mosquito." "Jim Scraggs is the only man as'll hit that," said another. The man referred to was a long, lank, lantern-jawed fellow with a cross-grained expression of countenance. He used the long, heavy, Kentucky rifle, w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582202 | being little larger than a pea, was called a pea-rifle. Jim was no favourite, and had been named Scraggs by his companions on account of his appearance. In a few minutes the lots were drawn, and the shooting began. Each hunter wiped out the barrel of his piece with his ramrod as he stepped forward; then, placing a ball... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582203 | the palm of his left hand, he drew the stopper of his powder-horn with his teeth, and poured out as much powder as sufficed to cover the bullet. This was the regular _measure_ among them. Little time was lost in firing, for these men did not "hang" on their aim. The point of the rifle was slowly raised to the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582204 | object, and, the instant the sight covered it, the ball sped to its mark. In a few minutes the nail was encircled by bullet-holes, scarcely two of which were more than an inch distant from the mark, and one--fired by Joe Blunt--entered the tree close beside it. "Ah, Joe!" said the major, "I thought you would have carri... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582205 | prize." "So did not I, sir," returned Blunt, with a shake of his head. "Had it a-bin a half-dollar at a hundred yards, I'd ha' done better, but I never _could_ hit the nail. It's too small to _see_." "That's cos ye've got no eyes," remarked Jim Scraggs, with a sneer, as he stepped forward. All tongues were now hushed, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582206 | for the expected champion was about to fire. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed by a shout, for Jim had hit the nail-head on the edge, and part of the bullet stuck to it. "That wins if there's no better," said the major, scarce able to conceal his disappointment. "Who comes next?" To this question Henri answered... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582207 | stepping up to the line, straddling his legs, and executing preliminary movements with his rifle, that seemed to indicate an intention on his part to throw the weapon bodily at the mark. He was received with a shout of mingled laughter and applause. After gazing steadily at the mark for a few seconds, a broad grin over... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582208 | looking round at his companions, he said--"Ha! mes boys, I cannot behold de nail at all!" "Can ye `behold' the _tree_?" shouted a voice, when the laugh that followed this announcement had somewhat abated. "Oh! oui," replied Henri quite coolly; "I can see _him_, an' a goot small bit of de forest beyond." "Fire at it, th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582209 | the tree ye desarve the rifle--leastwise ye ought to get the pup." Henri grinned again, and fired instantly, without taking aim. The shot was followed by an exclamation of surprise, for the bullet was found close beside the nail! "It's more be good luck than good shootin'," remarked Jim Scraggs. "Possiblement," answere... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582210 | and wiped out his rifle; "mais I have kill most of my deer by dat same goot luck." "Bravo! Henri," said Major Hope as he passed; "you _deserve_ to win, anyhow. Who's next?" "Dick Varley," cried several voices; "where's Varley? Come on, youngster, an' take yer shot." The youth came forward with evident reluctance. "It's... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582211 | he whispered to Joe Blunt as he passed, "I can't depend on my old gun." "Never give in," whispered Blunt encouragingly. Poor Varley's want of confidence in his rifle was merited, for, on pulling the trigger, the faithless lock missed fire. "Lend him another gun," cried several voices. "'Gainst rules laid down by Major ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582212 | is; try again." Varley did try again, and so successfully, too, that the ball hit the nail on the head, leaving a portion of the lead sticking to its edge. Of course this was greeted with a cheer, and a loud dispute began as to which was the better shot of the two. "There are others to shoot yet," cried | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582213 | the major. "Make way. Look out." The men fell back, and the few hunters who had not yet fired took their shots, but without coming nearer the mark. It was now agreed that Jim Scraggs and Dick Varley, being the two best shots, should try over again; and it was also agreed that Dick should have the use of Blunt's | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582214 | rifle. Lots were again drawn for the first shot, and it fell to Dick, who immediately stepped out, aimed somewhat hastily, and fired. "Hit again!" shouted those who had run forward to examine the mark. "_Half_ the bullet cut off by the nail-head!" Some of the more enthusiastic of Dick's friends cheered lustily, but the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582215 | grave and silent, for they knew Jim's powers, and felt that he would certainly do his best. Jim now stepped up to the line, and, looking earnestly at the mark, threw forward his rifle. At that moment our friend Crusoe--tired of tormenting his mother-- waddled stupidly and innocently into the midst of the crowd of men, ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582216 | received Henri's heel and the full weight of his elephantine body on its fore-paw. The horrible and electric yell that instantly issued from his agonised throat could only be compared, as Joe Blunt expressed it, "to the last dyin' screech o' a bustin' steam biler!" We cannot say that the effect was startling, for these... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582217 | bred in the midst of alarms, and were so used to them that a "bustin' steam biler" itself, unless it had blown them fairly off their legs, would not have startled them. But the effect, such as it was, was sufficient to disconcert the aim of Jim Scraggs, who fired at the same instant, and missed the nail by a | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582218 | hair's-breadth. Turning round in towering wrath, Scraggs aimed a kick at the poor pup, which, had it taken effect, would certainly have terminated the innocent existence of that remarkable dog on the spot, but quick as lightning Henri interposed the butt of his rifle, and Jim's shin met it with a violence that caused h... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582219 | pain. "Oh! pardon me, broder," cried Henri, shrinking back, with the drollest expression of mingled pity and glee. Jim's discretion, on this occasion, was superior to his valour; he turned away with a coarse expression of anger and left the ground. Meanwhile the major handed the silver rifle to young Varley. "It couldn... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582220 | "You'll do it credit, lad, I know that full well, and let me assure you it will never play you false. Only keep it clean, don't overcharge it, aim true, and it will never miss the mark." While the hunters crowded round Dick to congratulate him and examine the piece, he stood with a mingled feeling of bashfulness and de... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582221 | at his unexpected good fortune. Recovering himself suddenly he seized his old rifle, and, dropping quietly to the outskirts of the crowd, while the men were still busy handling and discussing the merits of the prize, went up, unobserved, to a boy of about thirteen years of age, and touched him on the shoulder. "Here, M... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582222 | said ye should have the old rifle when I was rich enough to get a new one. Take it _now_, lad. It's come to ye sooner than either o' us expected." "Dick," said the boy, grasping his friend's hand warmly, "yer true as heart of oak. It's good of 'ee, that's a fact." "Not a bit, boy; it costs me | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582223 | nothin' to give away an old gun that I've no use for, an's worth little, but it makes me right glad to have the chance to do it." Marston had longed for a rifle ever since he could walk, but his prospects of obtaining one were very poor indeed at that time, and it is a question whether he did | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582224 | not at that moment experience as much joy in handling the old piece as his friend felt in shouldering the prize. A difficulty now occurred which had not before been thought of. This was no less than the absolute refusal of Dick Varley's canine property to follow him. Fan had no idea of changing masters without her cons... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582225 | or her inclination being consulted. "You'll have to tie her up for a while, I fear," said the major. "No fear," answered the youth. "Dog natur's like human natur'!" Saying this he seized Crusoe by the neck, stuffed him comfortably into the bosom of his hunting shirt, and walked rapidly away with the prize rifle on his ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582226 | not bargained for this. She stood irresolute, gazing now to the right and now to the left, as the major retired in one direction and Dick with Crusoe in another. Suddenly Crusoe, who, although comfortable in body, was ill at ease in spirit, gave utterance to a melancholy howl. The mother's love instantly prevailed. For... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582227 | her ears at the sound, and then, lowering them, trotted quietly after her new master, and followed him to his cottage on the margin of the lake. CHAPTER THREE. SPECULATIVE REMARKS WITH WHICH THE READER MAY OR MAY NOT AGREE--AN OLD WOMAN--HOPES AND WISHES COMMINGLED WITH HARD FACTS--THE DOG CRUSOE'S EDUCATION BEGUN. It ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582228 | quiet, humble face. On such a face did Richard Varley look every night when he entered his mother's cottage. Mrs Varley was a widow, and she had followed the fortunes of her brother, Daniel Hood, ever since the death of her husband. Love for her only brother induced her to forsake the peaceful village of Maryland, and ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582229 | wild life of a backwoods settlement. Dick's mother was thin, and old, and wrinkled, but her face was stamped with a species of beauty which _never_ fades--the beauty of a loving look. Ah! the brow of snow and the peach-bloom cheek may snare the heart of man for a time, but the _loving look_ alone can forge that adamant... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582230 | that time, age, eternity, shall never break. Mistake us not, reader, and bear with us if we attempt to analyse this look which characterised Mrs Varley. A rare diamond is worth stopping to glance at, even when one is in a hurry! The brightest jewel in the human heart is worth a thought or two! By a _loving look_, we | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582231 | do not mean a look of love bestowed on a beloved object. That is common enough, and thankful should we be that it is so common in a world that's over-full of hatred. Still less do we mean that smile and look of intense affection with which some people--good people too--greet friends and foe alike, and by which effort t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582232 | work out their _beau ideal_ of the expression of Christian love, they do signally damage their cause, by saddening the serious and repelling the gay. Much less do we mean that _perpetual_ smile of good-will which argues more of personal comfort and self-love than anything else. No, the loving look we speak of is as oft... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582233 | character depends very much on the face through which it beams. And it cannot be counterfeited. Its _ring_ defies imitation. Like the clouded sun of April, it can pierce through tears of sorrow; like the noontide sun of summer, it can blaze in warm smiles; like the northern lights of winter, it can gleam in depths of w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582234 | always the same, modified, doubtless, and rendered more or less patent to others, according to the natural amiability of him or her who bestows it. No one can put it on. Still less can any one put it off. Its range is universal; it embraces all mankind, though, _of course_, it is intensified on a few favoured objects; ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582235 | is in the depths of a renewed heart, and its foundation lies in love to God. Young Varley's mother lived in a cottage which was of the smallest possible dimensions consistent with comfort. It was made of logs, as, indeed, were all the other cottages in the valley. The door was in the centre, and a passage from it to | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582236 | the back of the dwelling divided it into two rooms. One of these was subdivided by a thin partition, the inner room being Mrs Varley's bedroom, the outer Dick's. Daniel Hood's dormitory was a corner of the kitchen, which apartment served also as a parlour. The rooms were lighted by two windows, one on each side of the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582237 | gave to the house the appearance of having a nose and two eyes. Houses of this kind have literally got a sort of _expression_ on--if we may use the word--their countenances. _Square_ windows give the appearance of easy-going placidity; _longish_ ones, that of surprise. Mrs Varley's was a surprised cottage, and this was... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582238 | it stood, for the clear lake in front, studded with islands, and the distant hills beyond, composed a scene so surprisingly beautiful that it never failed to call forth an expression of astonished admiration from every new visitor to the Mustang Valley. "My boy," exclaimed Mrs Varley, as her son entered the cottage wit... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582239 | Deary me! where got you the grand gun?" "Won it, mother!" "Won it, my son?" "Ay, won it, mother. Druve the nail _almost_, and would ha' druve it _altogether_ had I bin more used to Joe Blunt's rifle." Mrs Varley's heart beat high, and her face flushed with pride as she gazed at her son, who laid the rifle on | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582240 | the table for her inspection, while he rattled off an animated and somewhat disjointed account of the match. "Deary me! now that was good; that was cliver. But what's that scraping at the door?" "Oh! that's Fan; I forgot her. Here! here! Fan! Come in, good dog," he cried rising and opening the door. Fan entered and sto... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582241 | uncomfortable. "My boy, what do ye with the major's dog?" "Won her too, mother!" "Won her, my son?" "Ay, won her, and the pup too; see, here it is!" and he plucked Crusoe from his bosom. Crusoe, having found his position to be one of great comfort, had fallen into a profound slumber, and on being thus unceremoniously a... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582242 | gave forth a yelp of discontent that brought Fan in a state of frantic sympathy to his side. "There you are, Fan, take it to a corner and make yourself at home. Ay, that's right, mother, give her somethin' to eat; she's hungry, I know by the look o' her eye." "Deary me, Dick," said Mrs Varley, who now proceeded | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582243 | to spread the youth's mid-day meal before him, "did ye drive the nail three times?" "No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought 'em all down at one shot--rifle, Fan, an' pup!" "Well, well, now that was cliver; but--" Here the old woman paused and looked grave. "But what, mother?" "You'll be wantin' to go off to the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582244 | I fear me, boy." "Wantin' _now_!" exclaimed the youth earnestly; "I'm _always_ wantin'. I've bin wantin' ever since I could walk; but I won't go till you let me, mother, that I won't!" And he struck the table with his fist so forcibly that the platters rung again. "You're a good boy, Dick; but you're too young yit to v... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582245 | among the Red-skins." "An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ventur' at all. You know, mother dear, I don't want to leave you; but I was born to be a hunter, and everybody in them parts is a hunter, and I can't hunt in the kitchen you know, mother!" At this point the conversation was interrupted by | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582246 | a sound that caused young Varley to spring up and seize his rifle, and Fan to show her teeth and growl. "Hist! mother; that's like horses' hoofs," he whispered, opening the door and gazing intently in the direction whence the sound came. Louder and louder it came, until an opening in the forest showed the advancing cav... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582247 | party of white men. In another moment they were in full view--a band of about thirty horsemen, clad in the leathern costume, and armed with the long rifle of the far west. Some wore portions of the gaudy Indian dress which gave to them a brilliant, dashing look. They came on straight for the block-house, and saluted th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582248 | a jovial cheer as they swept past at full speed. Dick returned the cheer with compound interest, and calling out, "They're trappers, mother, I'll be back in an hour," bounded off like a deer through the woods, taking a short cut in order to reach the block-house before them. He succeeded, for, just as he arrived at the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582249 | cavalcade wheeled round the bend in the river, dashed up the slope, and came to a sudden halt on the green. Vaulting from their foaming steeds they tied them to the stockades of the little fortress, which they entered in a body. Hot haste was in every motion of these men. They were trappers, they said, on their way to | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582250 | the Rocky Mountains to hunt and trade furs. But one of their number had been treacherously murdered and scalped by a Pawnee chief, and they resolved to revenge his death by an attack on one of the Pawnee villages. They would teach these "red reptiles" to respect white men, they would, come of it what might; and they ha... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582251 | aside here to procure an additional supply of powder and lead. In vain did the major endeavour to dissuade these reckless men from their purpose. They scoffed at the idea of returning good for evil, and insisted on being supplied. The log hut was a store as well as a place of defence, and as they offered to pay for | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582252 | it there was no refusing their request--at least so the major thought. The ammunition was therefore given to them, and in half an hour they were away again at full gallop over the plains on their mission of vengeance. "Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." But these men knew not what God said, because they ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582253 | His Word, and did not own His sway. Young Varley's enthusiasm was considerably damped when he learned the errand on which the trappers were bent. From that time forward he gave up all desire to visit the mountains in company with such men, but he still retained an intense longing to roam at large among their rocky fast... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582254 | out upon the wide prairies. Meanwhile he dutifully tended his mother's cattle and sheep, and contented himself with an occasional deer-hunt in the neighbouring forests. He devoted himself also to the training of his dog Crusoe--an operation which at first cost him many a deep sigh. Every one has heard of the sagacity a... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582255 | 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582256 | 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 wa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582257 | 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 re... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582258 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582259 | 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582260 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582261 | 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, fla... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582262 | 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 further in that direction; then he turned it as much to | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582263 | 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582264 | 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 rescu... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582265 | 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 ga... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582266 | 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_." Th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582267 | 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, disappoi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582268 | 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 ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582269 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582270 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582271 | 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 th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582272 | 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 ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582273 | 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582274 | 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 shoul... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582275 | 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 f... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582276 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582277 | into one of the many chambers of his dog's intellect! CHAPTER FOUR. 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582278 | as Dick's weapon had come to be named, was well-known among the hunters and the Red-skins 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 fitte... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582279 | 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 ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582280 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582281 | 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 inte... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582282 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582283 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582284 | 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... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582285 | 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 ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582286 | 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 "... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582287 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582288 | 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 w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582289 | 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; the drooped ears of sorrow; the bright, full eye of joy; the half-closed eye of contentment; and the frowning eye of indignation accompanied with a slight, a very slight, puc... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582290 | gleam of dazzling ivory--ha! no enemy ever saw this last piece of canine language without a full appreciation of what it meant. Then as to the tail--the modulations of meaning in the varied wag of that expressive member! Oh! it's useless to attempt description. Mortal man cannot conceive of the delicate shades of senti... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582291 | he has studied the subject--the wag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the wriggle! Away with description--it is impotent and valueless here! As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. He had been bitten, on the sly, by half the ill-natured curs in the settlement, and had only shown his teeth in return. He ha... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582292 | several enemies--and he had a thousand friends, particularly among the ranks of the weak and the persecuted, whom he always protected and avenged when opportunity offered. A single instance of this kind will serve to show his character. One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock beside the lake--the same identical ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582293 | latter had received his first lesson. They were conversing as usual, for Dick had elicited such a fund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had injected such wealth of wisdom into it, that he felt convinced it understood every word he said. "This is capital weather, Crusoe; ain't it pup?" Crusoe made a motion with ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582294 | quite as significant as a nod. "Ha! my pup, I wish that you and I might go and have a slap at the grizzly bars and a look at the Rocky Mountains. Wouldn't it be nuts, pup?" Crusoe looked dubious. "What, you don't agree with me! Now, tell me, pup, wouldn't ye like to grip a bar?" Still Crusoe looked | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582295 | dubious, but made a gentle motion with his tail, as though he would have said, "I've seen neither Rocky Mountains nor grizzly bars, and know nothin' about 'em, but I'm open to conviction." "You're a brave pup," rejoined Dick, stroking the dog's huge head affectionately. "I wouldn't give you for ten times your weight in... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582296 | things." Crusoe made no reply whatever to this. He regarded it as a truism unworthy of notice; he evidently felt that a comparison between love and dollars was preposterous. At this point in the conversation a little dog with a lame leg hobbled to the edge of the rocks in front of the spot where Dick was seated, and lo... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582297 | down into the water, which was deep there. Whether it did so for the purpose of admiring its very plain visage in the liquid mirror, or finding out what was going on among the fish, we cannot say, as it never told us; but at that moment a big, clumsy, savage-looking dog rushed out from the neighbouring thicket and bega... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582298 | to worry it. "Punish him, Crusoe," said Dick quickly. Crusoe made one bound that a lion might have been proud of, and seizing the aggressor by the back, lifted him off his legs and held him, howling, in the air--at the same time casting a look towards his master for further instructions. "Pitch him in," said Dick, maki... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582299 | with his hand. Crusoe turned and quietly dropped the dog into the lake. Having regarded his struggles there for a few moments with grave severity of countenance, he walked slowly back and sat down beside his master. The little dog made good its retreat as fast as three legs would carry it, and the surly dog, having swa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
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