The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies by - (read me like a book .txt) π
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"That's my opinion
precisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliest
fellow that ever walked on two legs, you are; and
whatever's your opinion is mine, no matter how absurd
it may be."
Dick evidently understood him perfectly, for he
laughed as he looked at him and patted him on the
head, and called him a "funny dog." Then he continued
his discourse:--
"Yes, pup, we'll make our camp here for a long bit,
old dog, in this beautiful plain. We'll make a willow
wigwam to sleep in, you and I, jist in yon clump o'
trees, not a stone's-throw to our right, where we'll have
a run o' pure water beside us, and be near our buffalo
at the same time. For, ye see, we'll need to watch him
lest the wolves take a notion to eat him--that'll be
your duty, pup. Then I'll skin him when I get strong
enough, which'll be in a day or two, I hope, and we'll
put one-half of the skin below us and t'other half above
us i' the camp, an' sleep, an' eat, an' take it easy for a
week or two--won't we, pup?"
"Hoora-a-a-y!" shouted Crusoe, with a jovial wag of
his tail, that no human arm with hat, or cap, or kerchief
ever equalled.
Poor Dick Varley! He smiled to think how earnestly
he had been talking to the dog; but he did not cease to
do it, for although he entered into discourses the drift
of which Crusoe's limited education did not permit him
to follow, he found comfort in hearing the sound of his
own voice, and in knowing that it fell pleasantly on
another ear in that lonely wilderness.
Our hero now set about his preparations as vigorously
as he could. He cut out the buffalo's tongue--a matter
of great difficulty to one in his weak state--and carried
it to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turf
was level and green, and decked with wild flowers.
Here he resolved to make his camp.
His first care was to select a bush whose branches
were long enough to form a canopy over his head when
bent, and the ends thrust into the ground. The completing
of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest
he resumed his labours. The next thing was to light a
fire--a comfort which he had not enjoyed for many
weary days. Not that he required it for warmth, for
the weather was extremely warm, but he required it to
cook with, and the mere sight of a blaze in a dark place
is a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows.
When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin at
the brook and put it on to boil, and cutting several
slices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes through
them and set them up before the fire to roast. By this
time the water was boiling, so he took it off with difficulty,
nearly burning his fingers and singeing the tail of
his coat in so doing. Into the pannikin he put a lump
of maple sugar, and stirred it about with a stick, and
tasted it. It seemed to him even better than tea or
coffee. It was absolutely delicious!
Really one has no notion what he can do if he makes
believe very hard. The human mind is a nicely balanced
and extremely complex machine, and when thrown a
little off the balance can be made to believe almost anything,
as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs,
who have fancied that they were made of all sorts of
things--glass and porcelain, and such like. No wonder
then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and
hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as
the most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunches
beside him and looked. And you haven't, no, you
haven't got the most distant notion of the way in which
that dog manoeuvred with his head and face. He opened
his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head
first a little to one side, then a little to the other. After
that he turned it a good deal to one side, and then a
good deal more to the other. Then he brought it straight,
and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other a
little, and then both together very much. Then, when
Dick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild
for a moment, and yawned vociferously. Presently Dick
moved--up went the ears again, and Crusoe came, in
military parlance, "to the position of attention!" At
last supper was ready and they began.
Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back from
him, in order that they might eat it in company. And
between every bite and sup that Dick took, he gave a
bite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they
ate together; and when Dick lay that night under the
willow branches, looking up through them at the stars,
with his feet to the fire and Crusoe close along his side,
he thought it the best and sweetest supper he ever ate,
and the happiest evening he ever spent--so wonderfully
do circumstances modify our notions of felicity.
Two weeks after this "Richard was himself again."
The muscles were springy, and the blood coursed fast
and free, as was its wont. Only a slight, and, perhaps,
salutary feeling of weakness remained, to remind him
that young muscles might again become more helpless
than those of an aged man or a child.
Dick had left his encampment a week ago, and was
now advancing by rapid stages towards the Rocky
Mountains, closely following the trail of his lost comrades,
which he had no difficulty in finding and keeping
now that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the buffalo
that he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders,
and the skin of another animal that he had shot a few
days after was cut up into a long line and slung in a
coil round his neck. Crusoe was also laden. He had a
little bundle of meat slung on each side of him.
For some time past numerous herds of mustangs, or
wild horses, had crossed their path, and Dick was now
on the look-out for a chance to crease one of those magnificent
creatures.
On one occasion a band of mustangs galloped close
up to him before they were aware of his presence, and
stopped short with a wild snort of surprise on beholding
him; then, wheeling round, they dashed away at full
gallop, their long tails and manes flying wildly in the
air, and their hoofs thundering on the plain. Dick
did not attempt to crease one upon this occasion, fearing
that his recent illness might have rendered his hand too
unsteady for so extremely delicate an operation.
In order to crease a wild horse the hunter requires
to be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the west
who carries a rifle that can do it successfully. Creasing
consists in sending a bullet through the gristle of the
mustang's neck, just above the bone, so as to stun the
animal. If the ball enters a hair's-breadth too low,
the horse falls dead instantly. If it hits the exact
spot, the horse falls as instantaneously, and dead to all
appearance; but, in reality, he is only stunned, and if
left for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearly
as well as ever. When hunters crease a horse successfully
they put a rope, or halter, round his under jaw
and hobbles round his feet, so that when he rises he
is secured, and, after considerable trouble, reduced to
obedience.
The mustangs which roam in wild freedom on the
prairies of the far west are descended from the noble
Spanish steeds that were brought over by the wealthy
cavaliers who accompanied Fernando Cortez, the conqueror
of Mexico, in his expedition to the New World in
1518. These bold, and, we may add, lawless cavaliers
were mounted on the finest horses that could be procured
from Barbary and the deserts of the Old World. The
poor Indians of the New World were struck with amazement
and terror at these awful beings, for, never having
seen horses before, they believed that horse and rider
were one animal. During the wars that followed many
of the Spaniards were killed, and their steeds bounded
into the wilds of the new country, to enjoy a life of
unrestrained freedom. These were the forefathers of
the present race of magnificent creatures which are
found in immense droves all over the western wilderness,
from the Gulf of Mexico to the confines of the
snowy regions of the far north.
At first the Indians beheld these horses with awe and
terror, but gradually they became accustomed to them,
and finally succeeded in capturing great numbers and
reducing them to a state of servitude. Not, however,
to the service of the cultivated field, but to the service
of the chase and war. The savages soon acquired the
method of capturing wild horses by means of the lasso--as
the noose at that end of a long line of raw hide is
termed--which they adroitly threw over the heads of
the animals and secured them, having previously run
them down. At the present day many of the savage
tribes of the west almost live upon horseback, and
without these useful creatures they could scarcely subsist,
as they are almost indispensable in the chase of
the buffalo.
Mustangs are regularly taken by the Indians to the
settlements of the white men for trade, but very poor
specimens are these of the breed of wild horses. This
arises from two causes. First, the Indian cannot overtake
the finest of a drove of wild mustangs, because his own
steed is inferior to the best among the wild ones, besides
being weighted with a rider, so that only the weak and
inferior animals are captured. And, secondly, when the
Indian does succeed in lassoing a first-rate horse he
keeps it for his own use. Thus, those who have not
visited the far-off prairies and seen the mustang in all
the glory of untrammelled freedom, can form no adequate
idea of its beauty, fleetness, and strength.
The horse, however, was not the only creature imported
by Cortez. There were priests in his army who
rode upon asses, and although we cannot imagine that
the "fathers" charged with the cavaliers and were unhorsed,
or, rather, un-assed in battle, yet, somehow, the
asses got rid of their riders and joined the Spanish
chargers in their joyous bound into a new life of freedom.
Hence wild asses also are found in the western
prairies. But think not, reader, of those poor miserable
wretches we see at home, which seem little better than
rough door-mats sewed up and stuffed, with head, tail,
and legs attached, and just enough of life infused to
make them move! No, the wild ass of the prairie is a
large powerful, swift creature. He has the same long
ears, it is true, and the same hideous, exasperating bray,
and the same tendency to flourish his heels; but for all
that he is a very fine animal, and often wages successful
warfare with the wild horse.
But to return. The next drove of mustangs that
Dick and Crusoe saw were feeding quietly and unsuspectingly
in a rich green hollow in the plain. Dick's
heart leaped up as his eyes suddenly fell on them, for
he had almost discovered himself before he was aware
of their presence.
"Down, pup!" he whispered, as he sank and disappeared
among the grass, which was just long enough
to cover him when lying quite flat.
Crusoe crouched immediately, and his master made
his observations of the drove, and the dispositions of
the ground that might favour his approach, for they
were not within rifle range. Having done so he crept
slowly back until the undulation of the prairie hid him
from view; then he sprang to his feet, and ran a considerable
distance along the bottom until he gained the
extreme end of a belt of low bushes, which would effectually
conceal him while he approached to within a
hundred yards or less of the troop.
Here he made his arrangements. Throwing down
his buffalo robe, he took the coil of line and cut off a
piece of about three yards in length. On this he made
a running noose. The longer line he also prepared
with a running noose. These he threw in a coil over
his arm.
He also made a pair of hobbles, and placed them in
the breast of his coat, and then, taking up his rifle,
advanced cautiously through the bushes--Crusoe following
close behind him. In a few minutes he was gazing
in admiration at the mustangs, which were now within
easy shot, and utterly ignorant of the presence of man,
for Dick had taken care to approach in such a way
that the wind did not carry the scent of him in their
direction.
And well might he admire them. The wild horse of
these regions is not very large, but it is exceedingly
powerful, with prominent eye, sharp nose, distended
nostril, small feet, and a delicate leg. Their
precisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliest
fellow that ever walked on two legs, you are; and
whatever's your opinion is mine, no matter how absurd
it may be."
Dick evidently understood him perfectly, for he
laughed as he looked at him and patted him on the
head, and called him a "funny dog." Then he continued
his discourse:--
"Yes, pup, we'll make our camp here for a long bit,
old dog, in this beautiful plain. We'll make a willow
wigwam to sleep in, you and I, jist in yon clump o'
trees, not a stone's-throw to our right, where we'll have
a run o' pure water beside us, and be near our buffalo
at the same time. For, ye see, we'll need to watch him
lest the wolves take a notion to eat him--that'll be
your duty, pup. Then I'll skin him when I get strong
enough, which'll be in a day or two, I hope, and we'll
put one-half of the skin below us and t'other half above
us i' the camp, an' sleep, an' eat, an' take it easy for a
week or two--won't we, pup?"
"Hoora-a-a-y!" shouted Crusoe, with a jovial wag of
his tail, that no human arm with hat, or cap, or kerchief
ever equalled.
Poor Dick Varley! He smiled to think how earnestly
he had been talking to the dog; but he did not cease to
do it, for although he entered into discourses the drift
of which Crusoe's limited education did not permit him
to follow, he found comfort in hearing the sound of his
own voice, and in knowing that it fell pleasantly on
another ear in that lonely wilderness.
Our hero now set about his preparations as vigorously
as he could. He cut out the buffalo's tongue--a matter
of great difficulty to one in his weak state--and carried
it to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turf
was level and green, and decked with wild flowers.
Here he resolved to make his camp.
His first care was to select a bush whose branches
were long enough to form a canopy over his head when
bent, and the ends thrust into the ground. The completing
of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest
he resumed his labours. The next thing was to light a
fire--a comfort which he had not enjoyed for many
weary days. Not that he required it for warmth, for
the weather was extremely warm, but he required it to
cook with, and the mere sight of a blaze in a dark place
is a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows.
When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin at
the brook and put it on to boil, and cutting several
slices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes through
them and set them up before the fire to roast. By this
time the water was boiling, so he took it off with difficulty,
nearly burning his fingers and singeing the tail of
his coat in so doing. Into the pannikin he put a lump
of maple sugar, and stirred it about with a stick, and
tasted it. It seemed to him even better than tea or
coffee. It was absolutely delicious!
Really one has no notion what he can do if he makes
believe very hard. The human mind is a nicely balanced
and extremely complex machine, and when thrown a
little off the balance can be made to believe almost anything,
as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs,
who have fancied that they were made of all sorts of
things--glass and porcelain, and such like. No wonder
then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and
hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as
the most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunches
beside him and looked. And you haven't, no, you
haven't got the most distant notion of the way in which
that dog manoeuvred with his head and face. He opened
his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head
first a little to one side, then a little to the other. After
that he turned it a good deal to one side, and then a
good deal more to the other. Then he brought it straight,
and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other a
little, and then both together very much. Then, when
Dick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild
for a moment, and yawned vociferously. Presently Dick
moved--up went the ears again, and Crusoe came, in
military parlance, "to the position of attention!" At
last supper was ready and they began.
Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back from
him, in order that they might eat it in company. And
between every bite and sup that Dick took, he gave a
bite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they
ate together; and when Dick lay that night under the
willow branches, looking up through them at the stars,
with his feet to the fire and Crusoe close along his side,
he thought it the best and sweetest supper he ever ate,
and the happiest evening he ever spent--so wonderfully
do circumstances modify our notions of felicity.
Two weeks after this "Richard was himself again."
The muscles were springy, and the blood coursed fast
and free, as was its wont. Only a slight, and, perhaps,
salutary feeling of weakness remained, to remind him
that young muscles might again become more helpless
than those of an aged man or a child.
Dick had left his encampment a week ago, and was
now advancing by rapid stages towards the Rocky
Mountains, closely following the trail of his lost comrades,
which he had no difficulty in finding and keeping
now that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the buffalo
that he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders,
and the skin of another animal that he had shot a few
days after was cut up into a long line and slung in a
coil round his neck. Crusoe was also laden. He had a
little bundle of meat slung on each side of him.
For some time past numerous herds of mustangs, or
wild horses, had crossed their path, and Dick was now
on the look-out for a chance to crease one of those magnificent
creatures.
On one occasion a band of mustangs galloped close
up to him before they were aware of his presence, and
stopped short with a wild snort of surprise on beholding
him; then, wheeling round, they dashed away at full
gallop, their long tails and manes flying wildly in the
air, and their hoofs thundering on the plain. Dick
did not attempt to crease one upon this occasion, fearing
that his recent illness might have rendered his hand too
unsteady for so extremely delicate an operation.
In order to crease a wild horse the hunter requires
to be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the west
who carries a rifle that can do it successfully. Creasing
consists in sending a bullet through the gristle of the
mustang's neck, just above the bone, so as to stun the
animal. If the ball enters a hair's-breadth too low,
the horse falls dead instantly. If it hits the exact
spot, the horse falls as instantaneously, and dead to all
appearance; but, in reality, he is only stunned, and if
left for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearly
as well as ever. When hunters crease a horse successfully
they put a rope, or halter, round his under jaw
and hobbles round his feet, so that when he rises he
is secured, and, after considerable trouble, reduced to
obedience.
The mustangs which roam in wild freedom on the
prairies of the far west are descended from the noble
Spanish steeds that were brought over by the wealthy
cavaliers who accompanied Fernando Cortez, the conqueror
of Mexico, in his expedition to the New World in
1518. These bold, and, we may add, lawless cavaliers
were mounted on the finest horses that could be procured
from Barbary and the deserts of the Old World. The
poor Indians of the New World were struck with amazement
and terror at these awful beings, for, never having
seen horses before, they believed that horse and rider
were one animal. During the wars that followed many
of the Spaniards were killed, and their steeds bounded
into the wilds of the new country, to enjoy a life of
unrestrained freedom. These were the forefathers of
the present race of magnificent creatures which are
found in immense droves all over the western wilderness,
from the Gulf of Mexico to the confines of the
snowy regions of the far north.
At first the Indians beheld these horses with awe and
terror, but gradually they became accustomed to them,
and finally succeeded in capturing great numbers and
reducing them to a state of servitude. Not, however,
to the service of the cultivated field, but to the service
of the chase and war. The savages soon acquired the
method of capturing wild horses by means of the lasso--as
the noose at that end of a long line of raw hide is
termed--which they adroitly threw over the heads of
the animals and secured them, having previously run
them down. At the present day many of the savage
tribes of the west almost live upon horseback, and
without these useful creatures they could scarcely subsist,
as they are almost indispensable in the chase of
the buffalo.
Mustangs are regularly taken by the Indians to the
settlements of the white men for trade, but very poor
specimens are these of the breed of wild horses. This
arises from two causes. First, the Indian cannot overtake
the finest of a drove of wild mustangs, because his own
steed is inferior to the best among the wild ones, besides
being weighted with a rider, so that only the weak and
inferior animals are captured. And, secondly, when the
Indian does succeed in lassoing a first-rate horse he
keeps it for his own use. Thus, those who have not
visited the far-off prairies and seen the mustang in all
the glory of untrammelled freedom, can form no adequate
idea of its beauty, fleetness, and strength.
The horse, however, was not the only creature imported
by Cortez. There were priests in his army who
rode upon asses, and although we cannot imagine that
the "fathers" charged with the cavaliers and were unhorsed,
or, rather, un-assed in battle, yet, somehow, the
asses got rid of their riders and joined the Spanish
chargers in their joyous bound into a new life of freedom.
Hence wild asses also are found in the western
prairies. But think not, reader, of those poor miserable
wretches we see at home, which seem little better than
rough door-mats sewed up and stuffed, with head, tail,
and legs attached, and just enough of life infused to
make them move! No, the wild ass of the prairie is a
large powerful, swift creature. He has the same long
ears, it is true, and the same hideous, exasperating bray,
and the same tendency to flourish his heels; but for all
that he is a very fine animal, and often wages successful
warfare with the wild horse.
But to return. The next drove of mustangs that
Dick and Crusoe saw were feeding quietly and unsuspectingly
in a rich green hollow in the plain. Dick's
heart leaped up as his eyes suddenly fell on them, for
he had almost discovered himself before he was aware
of their presence.
"Down, pup!" he whispered, as he sank and disappeared
among the grass, which was just long enough
to cover him when lying quite flat.
Crusoe crouched immediately, and his master made
his observations of the drove, and the dispositions of
the ground that might favour his approach, for they
were not within rifle range. Having done so he crept
slowly back until the undulation of the prairie hid him
from view; then he sprang to his feet, and ran a considerable
distance along the bottom until he gained the
extreme end of a belt of low bushes, which would effectually
conceal him while he approached to within a
hundred yards or less of the troop.
Here he made his arrangements. Throwing down
his buffalo robe, he took the coil of line and cut off a
piece of about three yards in length. On this he made
a running noose. The longer line he also prepared
with a running noose. These he threw in a coil over
his arm.
He also made a pair of hobbles, and placed them in
the breast of his coat, and then, taking up his rifle,
advanced cautiously through the bushes--Crusoe following
close behind him. In a few minutes he was gazing
in admiration at the mustangs, which were now within
easy shot, and utterly ignorant of the presence of man,
for Dick had taken care to approach in such a way
that the wind did not carry the scent of him in their
direction.
And well might he admire them. The wild horse of
these regions is not very large, but it is exceedingly
powerful, with prominent eye, sharp nose, distended
nostril, small feet, and a delicate leg. Their
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