CHAPTER IV.
_Our hero enlarged upon--Grumps_.
Two years passed away. The Mustang Valley settlement advancedprosperously, 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 had become a full-grown dog. The "silver rifle," asDick's weapon had come to be named, was well known among the huntersand the Redskins of the border-lands, and in Dick's hands its bulletswere as deadly as its owner's eye was quick and true.
Crusoe's education, too, had been completed. Faithfully and patientlyhad his young master trained his mind, until he fitted him to bea meet companion in the hunt. To "carry" and "fetch" were now buttrifling portions of the dog's accomplishments. He could dive a fathomdeep in the lake and bring up any article that might have been droppedor thrown in. His swimming powers were marvellous, and so powerfulwere his muscles that he seemed to spurn the water while passingthrough it, with his broad chest high out of the curling wave, at aspeed that neither man nor beast could keep up with for a moment. Hisintellect now was sharp and quick as a needle; he never required asecond bidding. When Dick went out hunting, he used frequently to dropa mitten or a powder-horn unknown to the dog, and after walking milesaway from it, would stop short and look down into the mild, gentleface of his companion.
"Crusoe," he said, in the same quiet tones with which he would haveaddressed a human friend, "I've dropped my mitten; go fetch it, pup."Dick continued to call it "pup" from habit.
One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe's eye, and in a momenthe was away at full gallop, nor did he rest until the lost article waslying at his master's feet. Dick was loath to try how far back on histrack Crusoe would run if desired. He had often gone back five and sixmiles at a stretch; but his powers did not stop here. He could carryarticles back to the spot from which they had been taken and leavethem there. He could head the game that his master was pursuing andturn it back; and he would guard any object he was desired to "watch"with unflinching constancy. But it would occupy too much space andtime to enumerate all Crusoe's qualities and powers. His biographywill unfold them.
In personal appearance he was majestic, having grown to an immensesize even for a Newfoundland. Had his visage been at all wolfish incharacter, his aspect would have been terrible. But he possessed in aneminent degree that mild, humble expression of face peculiar to hisrace. When roused or excited, and especially when bounding through theforest with the chase in view, he was absolutely magnificent. At othertimes his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quiet walk withDick Varley to anything else under the sun. But when Dick was inclinedto be boisterous, Crusoe's tail and ears rose at a moment's notice,and he was ready for anything. Moreover, he obeyed commands instantlyand implicitly. In this respect he put to shame most of the boys ofthe settlement, who were by no means famed for their habits of promptobedience.
Crusoe's eye was constantly watching the face of his master. When Dicksaid "Go" he went, when he said "Come" he came. If he had been in themidst of an excited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick had calledout, "Down, Crusoe," he would have sunk to the earth like a stone. Nodoubt it took many months of training to bring the dog to this stateof perfection, but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, and_love_.
Besides all this, Crusoe could speak! He spoke by means of the dog'sdumb alphabet in a way that defies description. He conversed, so tospeak, with his extremities--his head and his tail. But his eyes, hissoft brown eyes, were the chief medium of communication. If ever thelanguage of the eyes was carried to perfection, it was exhibited inthe person of Crusoe. But, indeed, it would be difficult to saywhich part of his expressive face expressed most--the cocked ears ofexpectation, the drooped ears of sorrow; the bright, full eye ofjoy, the half-closed eye of contentment, and the frowning eye ofindignation accompanied with a slight, a very slight pucker of thenose and a gleam of dazzling ivory--ha! no enemy ever saw this lastpiece of canine language without a full appreciation of what it meant.Then as to the tail--the modulations of meaning in the varied wagof that expressive member--oh! it's useless to attempt description.Mortal man cannot conceive of the delicate shades of sentimentexpressible by a dog's tail, unless he has studied the subject--thewag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the wriggle! Awaywith description--it is impotent and valueless here!
As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. He had been bitten, on thesly, by half the ill-natured curs in the settlement, and had onlyshown his teeth in return. He had no enmities--though severalenemies--and he had a thousand friends, particularly among the ranksof the weak and the persecuted, whom he always protected and avengedwhen opportunity offered. A single instance of this kind will serve toshow his character.
One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock beside the lake--thesame identical rock near which, when a pup, the latter had receivedhis first lesson. They were conversing as usual, for Dick had elicitedsuch a fund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had injected suchwealth of wisdom into it, that he felt convinced it understood everyword he said.
"This is capital weather, Crusoe; ain't it, pup?"
Crusoe made a motion with his head which was quite as significant as anod.
"Ha! my pup, I wish that you and I might go and have a slap at thegrizzly 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 togrip a bar?"
Still Crusoe looked dubious, but made a gentle motion with his tail,as though he would have said, "I've seen neither Rocky Mountains norgrizzly bars, and know nothin' about 'em, but I'm open to conviction."
"You're a brave pup," rejoined Dick, stroking the dog's huge headaffectionately. "I wouldn't give you for ten times your weight ingolden dollars--if there be sich things."
Crusoe made no reply whatever to this. He regarded it as a truismunworthy of notice; he evidently felt that a comparison between loveand dollars was preposterous.
At this point in the conversation a little dog with a lame leg hobbledto the edge of the rocks in front of the spot where Dick was seated,and looked down into the water, which was deep there. Whether it didso for the purpose of admiring its very plain visage in the liquidmirror, or finding out what was going on among the fish, we cannotsay, as it never told us; but at that moment a big, clumsy,savage-looking dog rushed out from the neighbouring thicket and beganto worry it.
"Punish him, Crusoe," said Dick quickly.
Crusoe made one bound that a lion might have been proud of, andseizing the aggressor by the back, lifted him off his legs and heldhim, howling, in the air--at the same time casting a look towards hismaster for further instructions.
"Pitch him in," said Dick, making a sign with his hand.
Crusoe turned and quietly dropped the dog into the lake. Havingregarded his struggles there for a few moments with grave severity ofcountenance, he walked slowly back and sat down beside his master.
The little dog made good its retreat as fast as three legs would carryit; and the surly dog, having swum ashore, retired sulkily, with histail very much between his legs.
Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by great and small amongthe well-disposed of the canine tribe of the Mustang Valley.
But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not actively engaged in DickVarley's service, he busied himself with private little matters of hisown. He undertook modest little excursions into the woods or along themargin of the lake, sometimes alone, but more frequently with a littlefriend whose whole heart and being seemed to be swallowed up inadmiration of his big companion. Whether Crusoe botanized orgeologized on these excursions we will not venture to say. Assuredlyhe seemed as though he did both, for he poked his nose into every bushand tuft of moss, and turned over the stones, and dug holes in theground--and, in short, if he did not understand these sciences, hebehaved very much as if he did. Certainly he knew as much about themas many of the human species do.
In these walks he never took the slightest notice of Grumps (thatwas the little dog's name), but Grumps made up for this by takingexcessive notice of him. When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and satdown to look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Grumps trotted on too.When Crusoe examined a bush, Grumps sat down to watch him; and when hedug a hole, Grumps looked into it to see what was there. Grumps neverhelped him; his sole delight was in looking on. They didn't conversemuch, these two dogs. To be in each other's company seemed to behappiness enough--at least Grumps thought so.
There was one point at which Grumps stopped short, however, and ceasedto follow his friend, and that was when he rushed headlong into thelake and disported himself for an hour at a time in its cool waters.Crusoe was, both by nature and training, a splendid water-dog. Grumps,on the contrary, held water in abhorrence; so he sat on the shore ofthe lake disconsolate when his friend was bathing, and waited till hecame out. The only time when Grumps was thoroughly nonplussed was whenDick Varley's whistle sounded faintly in the far distance. Then Crusoewould prick up his ears and stretch out at full gallop, clearingditch, and fence, and brake with his strong elastic bound, and leavingGrumps to patter after him as fast as his four-inch legs would carryhim. Poor Grumps usually arrived at the village to find both dog andmaster gone, and would betake himself to his own dwelling, there tolie down and sleep, and dream, perchance, of rambles and gambols withhis gigantic friend.
The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies Page 5
