The Dog Crusoe and his Master Part 25

As long as beaver were taken in abundance the camp remained stationary, but whenever the beaver began to grow scarce, the camp was raised, and the party moved on to another valley.

One day d.i.c.k Varley came galloping into camp with the news that there were several bears in a valley not far distant, which he was anxious not to disturb until a number of the trappers were collected together to go out and surround them.

On receiving the information Walter Cameron shook his head.

"We have other things to do, young man," said he, "than go a-hunting after bears. I'm just about making up my mind to send off a party to search out the valley on the other side of the Blue Mountains yonder, and bring back word if there are beaver there, for if not, I mean to strike away direct south. Now, if you've a mind to go with them, you're welcome. I'll warrant you'll find enough in the way of bear-hunting to satisfy you; perhaps a little Indian hunting to boot, for if the Banattees get hold of your horses, you'll have a long hunt before you find them again. Will you go?"

"Ay, right gladly," replied d.i.c.k. "When do we start?"

"This afternoon."

d.i.c.k went off at once to his own part of the camp to replenish his powder-horn and bullet pouch, and wipe out his rifle.

That evening the party, under command of a Canadian named Pierre, set out for the Blue Hills. They numbered twenty men, and expected to be absent three days, for they merely went to reconnoitre, not to trap.

Neither Joe nor Henri were of this party, both having been out hunting when it was organised. But Crusoe and Charlie were, of course!

Pierre, although a brave and trusty man, was of a sour, angry disposition, and not a favourite with d.i.c.k, but the latter resolved to enjoy himself and disregard his sulky comrade. Being so well mounted, he not unfrequently shot far ahead of his companions, despite their warnings that he ran great risk by so doing. On one of these occasions he and Crusoe witnessed a very singular fight, which is worthy of record.

d.i.c.k had felt a little wilder in spirit that morning than usual, and on coming to a pretty open plain he gave the rein to Charlie, and with an "_Adieu mes comerades_," he was out of sight in a few minutes. He rode on several miles in advance without checking speed, and then came to a wood where rapid motion was inconvenient, so he pulled up, and, dismounting, tied Charlie to a tree, while he sauntered on a short way on foot.

On coming to the edge of a small plain he observed two large birds engaged in mortal conflict. Crusoe observed them too, and would soon have put an end to the fight had d.i.c.k not checked him. Creeping as close to the belligerents as possible, he found that one was a wild turkey-c.o.c.k, the other a white-headed eagle! These two stood with their heads down and all their feathers bristling for a moment, then they dashed at each other, and struck fiercely with their spurs as our domestic c.o.c.ks do, but neither fell, and the fight was continued for about five minutes without apparent advantage on either side.

d.i.c.k now observed that, from the uncertainty of its motions, the turkey-c.o.c.k was blind, a discovery which caused a throb of compunction to enter his breast for standing and looking on, so he ran forward. The eagle saw him instantly, and tried to fly away, but was unable from exhaustion.

"At him, Crusoe," cried d.i.c.k, whose sympathies all lay with the other bird.

Crusoe went forward at a bound, and was met by a peck between the eyes that would have turned most dogs, but Crusoe only winked, and the next moment the eagle's career was ended.

d.i.c.k found that the turkey-c.o.c.k was quite blind, the eagle having thrust out both its eyes, so, in mercy, he put an end to its sufferings.

The fight had evidently been a long and severe one for the gra.s.s all round the spot, for about twenty yards, was beaten to the ground, and covered with the blood and feathers of the fierce combatants.

Meditating on the fight which he had just witnessed, d.i.c.k returned towards the spot where he had left Charlie, when he suddenly missed Crusoe from his side.

"Hallo, Crusoe! here, pup, where are you?" he cried.

The only answer to this was a sharp whizzing sound, and an arrow, pa.s.sing close to his ear, quivered in a tree beyond. Almost at the same moment Crusoe's angry roar was followed by a shriek from some one in fear or agony. c.o.c.king his rifle, the young hunter sprang through the bushes towards his horse, and was just in time to save a Banattee Indian from being strangled by the dog. It had evidently scented out this fellow, and pinned him just as he was in the act of springing on the back of Charlie, for the halter was cut, and the savage lay on the ground close beside him.

d.i.c.k called off the dog, and motioned to the Indian to rise, which he did so nimbly that it was quite evident he had sustained no injury beyond the laceration of his neck by Crusoe's teeth, and the surprise.

He was a tall strong Indian, for the tribe to which he belonged, so d.i.c.k proceeded to secure him at once. Pointing to his rifle and to the Indian's breast, to show what he might expect if he attempted to escape, d.i.c.k ordered Crusoe to keep him steady in that position.

The dog planted himself in front of the savage, who began to tremble for his scalp, and gazed up in his face with a look which, to say the least of it, was the reverse of amiable, while d.i.c.k went towards his horse for the purpose of procuring a piece of cord to tie him with. The Indian naturally turned his head to see what was going to be done, but a peculiar _gurgle_ in Crusoe's throat made him turn it round again very smartly, and he did not venture, thereafter, to move a muscle.

In a few seconds d.i.c.k returned with a piece of leather and tied his hands behind his back. While this was being done the Indian glanced several times at his bow, which lay a few feet away, where it had fallen when the dog caught him, but Crusoe seemed to understand him, for he favoured him with such an additional display of teeth, and such a low-- apparently distant, almost, we might say, subterranean--_rumble_, that he resigned himself to his fate.

His hands secured, a long line was attached to his neck with a running noose, so that if he ventured to run away the attempt would effect its own cure by producing strangulation. The other end of this line was given to Crusoe, who at the word of command marched him off, while d.i.c.k mounted Charlie and brought up the rear.

Great was the laughter and merriment when this apparition met the eyes of the trappers; but when they heard that he had attempted to shoot d.i.c.k their ire was raised, and a court-martial was held on the spot.

"Hang the reptile!" cried one.

"Burn him!" shouted another.

"No, no," said a third; "don't imitate them villains; don't be cruel.

Let's shoot him."

"Shoot 'im," cried Pierre; "Oui, dat is de ting; it too goot pour lui, mais, it shall be dooed."

"Don't ye think, lads, it would be better to let the poor wretch off?"

said d.i.c.k Varley; "he'd p'raps give a good account o' us to his people."

There was a universal shout of contempt at this mild proposal.

Unfortunately, few of the men sent on this exploring expedition were imbued with the peacemaking spirit of their chief; and most of them seemed glad to have a chance of venting their hatred of the poor Indians on this unhappy wretch, who although calm, looked sharply from one speaker to another, to gather hope, if possible, from the tones of their voices.

d.i.c.k was resolved at the risk of a quarrel with Pierre to save the poor man's life, and had made up his mind to insist on having him conducted to the camp to be tried by Cameron, when one of the men suggested that they should take the savage to the top of a hill about three miles further on, and there hang him up on a tree as a warning to all his tribe.

"Agreed, agreed," cried the men; "come on."

d.i.c.k, too, seemed to agree to this proposal, and hastily ordered Crusoe to run on ahead with the savage, an order which the dog obeyed so vigorously that before the men had done laughing at him, he was a couple of hundred yards ahead of them.

"Take care that he don't get off!" cried d.i.c.k, springing on Charlie and stretching out at a gallop.

In a moment he was beside the Indian. Sc.r.a.ping together the little of the Indian language he knew, he stooped down, and, cutting the thongs that bound him, said--"Go, white men love the Indians."

The man cast on his deliverer one glance of surprise, and the next moment bounded aside into the bushes and was gone.

A loud shout from the party behind showed that this act had been observed, and Crusoe stood with the end of the line in his mouth, and an expression on his face that said, "You're absolutely incomprehensible, d.i.c.k! It's all right, I _know_; but to my feeble capacity it _seems_ wrong."

"Fat for, you do dat?" shouted Pierre in a rage, as he came up with a menacing look.

d.i.c.k confronted him. "The prisoner was mine. I had a right to do with him as it liked me."

"True, true," cried several of the men who had begun to repent of their resolution, and were glad the savage was off. "The lad's right. Get along, Pierre."

"You had no right, you vas wrong. Oui, et I have goot vill to give you one knock on de nose."

d.i.c.k looked Pierre in the face, as he said this, in a manner that cowed him.

"It is time," he said quietly, pointing to the sun, "to go on. Your bourgeois expects that time won't be wasted."

Pierre muttered something in an angry tone, and, wheeling round his horse, dashed forward at full gallop followed by the rest of the men.

The trappers encamped that night on the edge of a wide gra.s.sy plain, which offered such tempting food for the horses that Pierre resolved to forego his usual cautious plan of picketting them close to the camp, and set them loose on the plain, merely hobbling them to prevent their straying far.

d.i.c.k remonstrated, but in vain. An insolent answer was all he got for his pains. He determined, however, to keep Charlie close beside him all night, and also made up his mind to keep a sharp look out on the other horses.

At supper he again remonstrated.