<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<i>Our hero enlarged upon--Grumps</i>.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Two years passed away. The Mustang Valley settlement<br/>
advanced prosperously, despite one or two<br/>
attacks made upon it by the savages, who were, however,<br/>
firmly repelled. Dick Varley had now become a man,<br/>
and his pup Crusoe had become a full-grown dog. The<br/>
"silver rifle," as Dick's weapon had come to be named,<br/>
was well known among the hunters and the Redskins of<br/>
the border-lands, and in Dick's hands its bullets were as<br/>
deadly as its owner's eye was quick and true.<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe's education, too, had been completed. Faithfully<br/>
and patiently had his young master trained his<br/>
mind, until he fitted him to be a meet companion in the<br/>
hunt. To "carry" and "fetch" were now but trifling<br/>
portions of the dog's accomplishments. He could dive<br/>
a fathom deep in the lake and bring up any article that<br/>
might have been dropped or thrown in. His swimming<br/>
powers were marvellous, and so powerful were his<br/>
muscles that he seemed to spurn the water while passing<br/>
through it, with his broad chest high out of the<br/>
curling wave, at a speed that neither man nor beast<br/>
could keep up with for a moment. His intellect now<br/>
was sharp and quick as a needle; he never required a<br/>
second bidding. When Dick went out hunting, he<br/>
used frequently to drop a mitten or a powder-horn unknown<br/>
to the dog, and after walking miles away from<br/>
it, would stop short and look down into the mild, gentle<br/>
face of his companion.<br/>
<br/>
"Crusoe," he said, in the same quiet tones with<br/>
which he would have addressed a human friend, "I've<br/>
dropped my mitten; go fetch it, pup." Dick continued<br/>
to call it "pup" from habit.<br/>
<br/>
One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe's eye,<br/>
and in a moment he was away at full gallop, nor did<br/>
he rest until the lost article was lying at his master's<br/>
feet. Dick was loath to try how far back on his track<br/>
Crusoe would run if desired. He had often gone back<br/>
five and six miles at a stretch; but his powers did not<br/>
stop here. He could carry articles back to the spot<br/>
from which they had been taken and leave them there.<br/>
He could head the game that his master was pursuing<br/>
and turn it back; and he would guard any object he<br/>
was desired to "watch" with unflinching constancy.<br/>
But it would occupy too much space and time to<br/>
enumerate all Crusoe's qualities and powers. His<br/>
biography will unfold them.<br/>
<br/>
In personal appearance he was majestic, having<br/>
grown to an immense size even for a Newfoundland.<br/>
Had his visage been at all wolfish in character, his<br/>
aspect would have been terrible. But he possessed in<br/>
an eminent degree that mild, humble expression of face<br/>
peculiar to his race. When roused or excited, and<br/>
especially when bounding through the forest with the<br/>
chase in view, he was absolutely magnificent. At other<br/>
times his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quiet<br/>
walk with Dick Varley to anything else under the sun.<br/>
But when Dick was inclined to be boisterous, Crusoe's<br/>
tail and ears rose at a moment's notice, and he was<br/>
ready for anything. Moreover, he obeyed commands<br/>
instantly and implicitly. In this respect he put to<br/>
shame most of the boys of the settlement, who were by<br/>
no means famed for their habits of prompt obedience.<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe's eye was constantly watching the face of his<br/>
master. When Dick said "Go" he went, when he said<br/>
"Come" he came. If he had been in the midst of an<br/>
excited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick had<br/>
called out, "Down, Crusoe," he would have sunk to the<br/>
earth like a stone. No doubt it took many months of<br/>
training to bring the dog to this state of perfection,<br/>
but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, and<br/>
<i>love</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Besides all this, Crusoe could speak! He spoke by<br/>
means of the dog's dumb alphabet in a way that defies<br/>
description. He conversed, so to speak, with his extremities--his head<br/>
and<br/>
his tail. But his eyes, his soft<br/>
brown eyes, were the chief medium of communication.<br/>
If ever the language of the eyes was carried to perfection,<br/>
it was exhibited in the person of Crusoe. But,<br/>
indeed, it would be difficult to say which part of his expressive<br/>
face expressed most--the cocked ears of expectation,<br/>
the drooped ears of sorrow; the bright, full eye<br/>
of joy, the half-closed eye of contentment, and the<br/>
frowning eye of indignation accompanied with a slight,<br/>
a very slight pucker of the nose and a gleam of dazzling<br/>
ivory--ha! no enemy ever saw this last piece of<br/>
canine language without a full appreciation of what it<br/>
meant. Then as to the tail--the modulations of meaning<br/>
in the varied wag of that expressive member--oh!<br/>
it's useless to attempt description. Mortal man cannot<br/>
conceive of the delicate shades of sentiment expressible<br/>
by a dog's tail, unless he has studied the subject--the<br/>
wag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the<br/>
wriggle! Away with description--it is impotent and<br/>
valueless here!<br/>
<br/>
As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. He<br/>
had been bitten, on the sly, by half the ill-natured curs<br/>
in the settlement, and had only shown his teeth in return.<br/>
He had no enmities--though several enemies--and<br/>
he had a thousand friends, particularly among the<br/>
ranks of the weak and the persecuted, whom he always<br/>
protected and avenged when opportunity offered. A<br/>
single instance of this kind will serve to show his character.<br/>
<br/>
One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock beside<br/>
the lake--the same identical rock near which, when<br/>
a pup, the latter had received his first lesson. They<br/>
were conversing as usual, for Dick had elicited such a<br/>
fund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had injected<br/>
such wealth of wisdom into it, that he felt convinced<br/>
it understood every word he said.<br/>
<br/>
"This is capital weather, Crusoe; ain't it, pup?"<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe made a motion with his head which was<br/>
quite as significant as a nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Ha! my pup, I wish that you and I might go and<br/>
have a slap at the grizzly bars, and a look at the Rocky<br/>
Mountains. Wouldn't it be nuts, pup?"<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe looked dubious.<br/>
<br/>
"What, you don't agree with me! Now tell me,<br/>
pup, wouldn't ye like to grip a bar?"<br/>
<br/>
Still Crusoe looked dubious, but made a gentle motion<br/>
with his tail, as though he would have said, "I've seen<br/>
neither Rocky Mountains nor grizzly bars, and know<br/>
nothin' about 'em, but I'm open to conviction."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a brave pup," rejoined Dick, stroking the<br/>
dog's huge head affectionately. "I wouldn't give you<br/>
for ten times your weight in golden dollars--if there<br/>
be sich things."<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe made no reply whatever to this. He regarded<br/>
it as a truism unworthy of notice; he evidently felt that<br/>
a comparison between love and dollars was preposterous.<br/>
<br/>
At this point in the conversation a little dog with a<br/>
lame leg hobbled to the edge of the rocks in front of<br/>
the spot where Dick was seated, and looked down into<br/>
the water, which was deep there. Whether it did so<br/>
for the purpose of admiring its very plain visage in the<br/>
liquid mirror, or finding out what was going on among<br/>
the fish, we cannot say, as it never told us; but at that<br/>
moment a big, clumsy, savage-looking dog rushed out<br/>
from the neighbouring thicket and began to worry it.<br/>
<br/>
"Punish him, Crusoe," said Dick quickly.<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe made one bound that a lion might have been<br/>
proud of, and seizing the aggressor by the back, lifted<br/>
him off his legs and held him, howling, in the air--at<br/>
the same time casting a look towards his master for<br/>
further instructions.<br/>
<br/>
"Pitch him in," said Dick, making a sign with his<br/>
hand.<br/>
<br/>
Crusoe turned and quietly dropped the dog into the<br/>
lake. Having regarded his struggles there for a few<br/>
moments with grave severity of countenance, he walked<br/>
slowly back and sat down beside his master.<br/>
<br/>
The little dog made good its retreat as fast as three<br/>
legs would carry it; and the surly dog, having swum<br/>
ashore, retired sulkily, with his tail very much between<br/>
his legs.<br/>
<br/>
Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by<br/>
great and small among the well-disposed of the canine<br/>
tribe of the Mustang Valley.<br/>
<br/>
But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not<br/>
actively engaged in Dick Varley's service, he busied<br/>
himself with private little matters of his own. He<br/>
undertook modest little excursions into the woods or<br/>
along the margin of the lake, sometimes alone, but<br/>
more frequently with a little friend whose whole heart<br/>
and being seemed to be swallowed up in admiration of<br/>
his big companion. Whether Crusoe botanized or<br/>
geologized on these excursions we will not venture to<br/>
say. Assuredly he seemed as though he did both, for<br/>
he poked his nose into every bush and tuft of moss,<br/>
and turned over the stones, and dug holes in the ground--and,<br/>
in short, if he did not understand these sciences,<br/>
he behaved very much as if he did. Certainly he<br/>
knew as much about them as many of the human<br/>
species do.<br/>
<br/>
In these walks he never took the slightest notice of<br/>
Grumps (that was the little dog's name), but Grumps<br/>
made up for this by taking excessive notice of him.<br/>
When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and sat down<br/>
to look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Grumps<br/>
trotted on too. When Crusoe examined a bush, Grumps<br/>
sat down to watch him; and when he dug a hole,<br/>
Grumps looked into it to see what was there. Grumps<br/>
never helped him; his sole delight was in looking on.<br/>
They didn't converse much, these two dogs. To be in<br/>
each other's company seemed to be happiness enough--at<br/>
least Grumps thought so.<br/>
<br/>
There was one point at which Grumps stopped short,<br/>
however, and ceased to follow his friend, and that was<br/>
when he rushed headlong into the lake and disported<br/>
himself for an hour at a time in its cool waters. Crusoe<br/>
was, both by nature and training, a splendid water-dog.<br/>
Grumps, on the contrary, held water in abhorrence; so<br/>
he sat on the shore of the lake disconsolate when his<br/>
friend was bathing, and waited till he came out. The<br/>
only time when Grumps was thoroughly nonplussed<br/>
was when Dick Varley's whistle sounded faintly in the<br/>
far distance. Then Crusoe would prick up his ears<br/>
and stretch out at full gallop, clearing ditch, and fence,<br/>
and brake with his strong elastic bound, and leaving<br/>
Grumps to patter after him as fast as his four-inch<br/>
legs would carry him. Poor Grumps usually arrived at<br/>
the village to find both dog and master gone, and would<br/>
betake himself to his own dwelling, there to lie down<br/>
and sleep, and dream, perchance, of rambles and gambols<br/>
with his gigantic friend.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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