The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies
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CHAPTER XXVII.
_Rejoicings_--_The feast at the block-house_--_Grumps and Crusoe comeout strong_--The closing scene_.
The day of Dick's arrival with his companions was a great day in theannals of the Mustang Valley, and Major Hope resolved to celebrate itby an impromptu festival at the old block-house; for many hearts inthe valley had been made glad that day, and he knew full well that,under such circumstances, some safety-valve must be devised for theescape of overflowing excitement.
A messenger was sent round to invite the population to assemblewithout delay in front of the block-house. With backwoods-likecelerity the summons was obeyed; men, women, and children hurriedtowards the central point, wondering, yet more than half suspecting,what was the major's object in calling them together.
They were not long in doubt. The first sight that presented itself,as they came trooping up the slope in front of the log-hut, was anox roasting whole before a gigantic bonfire. Tables were beingextemporized on the broad level plot in front of the gate. Other firesthere were, of smaller dimensions, on which sundry steaming pots wereplaced, and various joints of wild horse, bear, and venison roasted,and sent forth a savoury odour as well as a pleasant hissing noise.The inhabitants of the block-house were self-taught brewers, and theresult of their recent labours now stood displayed in a row of goodlycasks of beer--the only beverage with which the dwellers in thesefar-off regions were wont to regale themselves.
The whole scene, as the cooks moved actively about upon the lawn, andchildren romped round the fires, and settlers came flocking throughthe forests, might have recalled the revelry of merry England in theolden time, though the costumes of the far west were perhaps somewhatdifferent from those of old England.
No one of all the band assembled there on that day of rejoicingrequired to ask what it was all about. Had any one been in doubt for amoment, a glance at the centre of the crowd assembled round the gateof the western fortress would have quickly enlightened him. For therestood Dick Varley, and his mild-looking mother, and his loving dogCrusoe. There, too, stood Joe Blunt, like a bronzed warrior returnedfrom the fight, turning from one to another as question poured in uponquestion almost too rapidly to permit of a reply. There, too, stoodHenri, making enthusiastic speeches to whoever chose to listen tohim--now glaring at the crowd with clenched fists and growling voice,as he told of how Joe and he had been tied hand and foot, and lashedto poles, and buried in leaves, and threatened with a slow death bytorture; at other times bursting into a hilarious laugh as he heldforth on the predicament of Mahtawa, when that wily chief was treedby Crusoe in the prairie. Young Marston was there, too, hanging aboutDick, whom he loved as a brother and regarded as a perfect hero.Grumps, too, was there, and Fan. Do you think, reader, that Grumpslooked at any one but Crusoe? If you do, you are mistaken. Grumpson that day became a regular, an incorrigible, utter, and perfectnuisance to everybody--not excepting himself, poor beast! Grumps wasa dog of one idea, and that idea was Crusoe. Out of that great ideathere grew one little secondary idea, and that idea was that the onlyjoy on earth worth mentioning was to sit on his haunches, exactlysix inches from Crusoe's nose, and gaze steadfastly into his face.Wherever Crusoe went Grumps went. If Crusoe stopped, Grumps wasdown before him in an instant. If Crusoe bounded away, which in theexuberance of his spirits he often did, Grumps was after him like abundle of mad hair. He was in everybody's way, in Crusoe's way, andbeing, so to speak, "beside himself," was also in his own way. Ifpeople trod upon him accidentally, which they often did, Grumpsuttered a solitary heart-rending yell proportioned in intensity to theexcruciating nature of the torture he endured, then instantly resumedhis position and his fascinated stare. Crusoe generally held his headup, and gazed over his little friend at what was going on around him;but if for a moment he permitted his eye to rest on the countenance ofGrumps, that creature's tail became suddenly imbued with an amount ofwriggling vitality that seemed to threaten its separation from thebody.
It was really quite interesting to watch this unblushing, anddisinterested, and utterly reckless display of affection on the partof Grumps, and the amiable way in which Crusoe put up with it. Wesay put up with it advisedly, because it must have been a very greatinconvenience to him, seeing that if he attempted to move, hissatellite moved in front of him, so that his only way of escapingtemporarily was by jumping over Grumps's head.
Grumps was everywhere all day. Nobody, almost, escaped trampling onpart of him. He tumbled over everything, into everything, and againsteverything. He knocked himself, singed himself, and scalded himself,and in fact forgot himself altogether; and when, late that night,Crusoe went with Dick into his mother's cottage, and the doorwas shut, Grumps stretched his ruffled, battered, ill-used, anddishevelled little body down on the door-step, thrust his nose againstthe opening below the door, and lay in humble contentment all night,for he knew that Crusoe was there.
Of course such an occasion could not pass without a shooting-match.Rifles were brought out after the feast was over, just before the sunwent down into its bed on the western prairies, and "the nail" wassoon surrounded by bullets, tipped by Joe Blunt and Jim Scraggs, andof course driven home by Dick Varley, whose "silver rifle" had nowbecome in its owner's hand a never-failing weapon. Races, too, werestarted, and here again Dick stood pre-eminent; and when nightspread her dark mantle over the scene, the two best fiddlers in thesettlement were placed on empty beer-casks, and some danced by thelight of the monster fires, while others listened to Joe Blunt ashe recounted their adventures on the prairies and among the RockyMountains.
There were sweethearts, and wives, and lovers at the feast, but wequestion if any heart there was so full of love, and admiration, andgratitude, as that of the Widow Varley as she watched her son Dickthroughout that merry evening.
* * * * *
Years rolled by, and the Mustang Valley prospered. Missionaries wentthere, and a little church was built, and to the blessings of afertile land were added the far greater blessings of Christian lightand knowledge. One sad blow fell on the Widow Varley's heart. Her onlybrother, Daniel Hood, was murdered by the Indians. Deeply and long shemourned, and it required all Dick's efforts and those of the pastor ofthe settlement to comfort her. But from the first the widow's heartwas sustained by the loving Hand that dealt the blow, and when timeblunted the keen edge of her feelings her face became as sweet andmild, though not so lightsome, as before.
Joe Blunt and Henri became leading men in the councils of the MustangValley; but Dick Varley preferred the woods, although, as long as hismother lived, he hovered round her cottage--going off sometimes for aday, sometimes for a week, but never longer. After her head was laidin the dust, Dick took altogether to the woods, with Crusoe andCharlie, the wild horse, as his only companions, and his mother'sBible in the breast of his hunting-shirt. And soon Dick, the boldhunter, and his dog Crusoe became renowned in the frontier settlementsfrom the banks of the Yellowstone River to the Gulf of Mexico.
Many a grizzly bear did the famous "silver rifle" lay low, and many awild, exciting chase and adventure did Dick go through; but duringhis occasional visits to the Mustang Valley he was wont to say to JoeBlunt and Henri--with whom he always sojourned--that "nothin' heever felt or saw came up to his _first_ grand dash over the westernprairies into the heart of the Rocky Mountains." And in saying this,with enthusiasm in his eye and voice, Dick invariably appealed to, andreceived a ready affirmative glance from, his early companion and hisfaithful loving friend, the dog Crusoe.
THE END.