Marston had longed for a rifle ever since he could walk, but his prospects of obtaining one were very poor indeed at that time, and it is a question whether he did not at that moment experience as much joy in handling the old piece as his friend felt in shouldering the prize.
A difficulty now occurred which had not before been thought of. This was no less than the absolute refusal of Dick Varleys canine property to follow him. Fan had no idea of changing masters without her consent being asked, or her inclination being consulted.
Youll have to tie her up for a while, I fear, said the major.
No fear, answered the youth. Dog naturs like human natur!
Saying this he seized Crusoe by the neck, stuffed him comfortably into the bosom of his hunting shirt, and walked rapidly away with the prize rifle on his shoulder.
Fan had not bargained for this. She stood irresolute, gazing now to the right and now to the left, as the major retired in one direction and Dick with Crusoe in another. Suddenly Crusoe, who, although comfortable in body, was ill at ease in spirit, gave utterance to a melancholy howl. The mothers love instantly prevailed. For one moment she pricked up her ears at the sound, and then, lowering them, trotted quietly after her new master, and followed him to his cottage on the margin of the lake.
Chapter Three.
Speculative remarks with which the reader may or may not agreeAn old womanHopes and wishes commingled with hard factsThe dog Crusoes education begun
It is pleasant to look upon a serene, quiet, humble face. On such a face did Richard Varley look every night when he entered his mothers cottage. Mrs Varley was a widow, and she had followed the fortunes of her brother, Daniel Hood, ever since the death of her husband. Love for her only brother induced her to forsake the peaceful village of Maryland, and enter upon the wild life of a backwoods settlement. Dicks mother was thin, and old, and wrinkled, but her face was stamped with a species of beauty which never fadesthe beauty of a loving look. Ah! the brow of snow and the peach-bloom cheek may snare the heart of man for a time, but the loving look alone can forge that adamantine chain that time, age, eternity, shall never break.
Mistake us not, reader, and bear with us if we attempt to analyse this look which characterised Mrs Varley. A rare diamond is worth stopping to glance at, even when one is in a hurry! The brightest jewel in the human heart is worth a thought or two! By a loving look, we do not mean a look of love bestowed on a beloved object. That is common enough, and thankful should we be that it is so common in a world thats over-full of hatred. Still less do we mean that smile and look of intense affection with which some peoplegood people toogreet friends and foe alike, and by which effort to work out their beau idéal of the expression of Christian love, they do signally damage their cause, by saddening the serious and repelling the gay. Much less do we mean that perpetual smile of good-will which argues more of personal comfort and self-love than anything else. No, the loving look we speak of is as often grave as gay. Its character depends very much on the face through which it beams. And it cannot be counterfeited. Its ring defies imitation. Like the clouded sun of April, it can pierce through tears of sorrow; like the noontide sun of summer, it can blaze in warm smiles; like the northern lights of winter, it can gleam in depths of woebut it is always the same, modified, doubtless, and rendered more or less patent to others, according to the natural amiability of him or her who bestows it. No one can put it on. Still less can any one put it off. Its range is universal; it embraces all mankind, though, of course, it is intensified on a few favoured objects; its seat is in the depths of a renewed heart, and its foundation lies in love to God.
Young Varleys mother lived in a cottage which was of the smallest possible dimensions consistent with comfort. It was made of logs, as, indeed, were all the other cottages in the valley. The door was in the centre, and a passage from it to the back of the dwelling divided it into two rooms. One of these was subdivided by a thin partition, the inner room being Mrs Varleys bedroom, the outer Dicks. Daniel Hoods dormitory was a corner of the kitchen, which apartment served also as a parlour.
The rooms were lighted by two windows, one on each side of the door, which gave to the house the appearance of having a nose and two eyes. Houses of this kind have literally got a sort of expression onif we may use the wordtheir countenances. Square windows give the appearance of easy-going placidity; longish ones, that of surprise. Mrs Varleys was a surprised cottage, and this was in keeping with the scene in which it stood, for the clear lake in front, studded with islands, and the distant hills beyond, composed a scene so surprisingly beautiful that it never failed to call forth an expression of astonished admiration from every new visitor to the Mustang Valley.
My boy, exclaimed Mrs Varley, as her son entered the cottage with a bound, why so hurried to-day? Deary me! where got you the grand gun?
Won it, mother!
Won it, my son?
Ay, won it, mother. Druve the nail almost, and would ha druve it altogether had I bin more used to Joe Blunts rifle.
Mrs Varleys heart beat high, and her face flushed with pride as she gazed at her son, who laid the rifle on the table for her inspection, while he rattled off an animated and somewhat disjointed account of the match.
Deary me! now that was good; that was cliver. But whats that scraping at the door?
Oh! thats Fan; I forgot her. Here! here! Fan! Come in, good dog, he cried rising and opening the door.
Fan entered and stopped short, evidently uncomfortable.
My boy, what do ye with the majors dog?
Won her too, mother!
Won her, my son?
Ay, won her, and the pup too; see, here it is! and he plucked Crusoe from his bosom.
Crusoe, having found his position to be one of great comfort, had fallen into a profound slumber, and on being thus unceremoniously awakened, he gave forth a yelp of discontent that brought Fan in a state of frantic sympathy to his side.
There you are, Fan, take it to a corner and make yourself at home. Ay, thats right, mother, give her somethin to eat; shes hungry, I know by the look o her eye.
Deary me, Dick, said Mrs Varley, who now proceeded to spread the youths mid-day meal before him, did ye drive the nail three times?
No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought em all down at one shotrifle, Fan, an pup!
Well, well, now that was cliver; but Here the old woman paused and looked grave.
But what, mother?
Youll be wantin to go off to the mountains now, I fear me, boy.
Wantin now! exclaimed the youth earnestly; Im always wantin. Ive bin wantin ever since I could walk; but I wont go till you let me, mother, that I wont! And he struck the table with his fist so forcibly that the platters rung again.
Youre a good boy, Dick; but youre too young yit to ventur among the Red-skins.
An yit, if I dont ventur young, Id better not ventur at all. You know, mother dear, I dont want to leave you; but I was born to be a hunter, and everybody in them parts is a hunter, and I cant hunt in the kitchen you know, mother!
At this point the conversation was interrupted by a sound that caused young Varley to spring up and seize his rifle, and Fan to show her teeth and growl.
Hist! mother; thats like horses hoofs, he whispered, opening the door and gazing intently in the direction whence the sound came.
Louder and louder it came, until an opening in the forest showed the advancing cavalcade to be a party of white men. In another moment they were in full viewa band of about thirty horsemen, clad in the leathern costume, and armed with the long rifle of the far west. Some wore portions of the gaudy Indian dress which gave to them a brilliant, dashing look. They came on straight for the block-house, and saluted the Varleys with a jovial cheer as they swept past at full speed. Dick returned the cheer with compound interest, and calling out, Theyre trappers, mother, Ill be back in an hour, bounded off like a deer through the woods, taking a short cut in order to reach the block-house before them. He succeeded, for, just as he arrived at the house, the cavalcade wheeled round the bend in the river, dashed up the slope, and came to a sudden halt on the green. Vaulting from their foaming steeds they tied them to the stockades of the little fortress, which they entered in a body.
Hot haste was in every motion of these men. They were trappers, they said, on their way to the Rocky Mountains to hunt and trade furs. But one of their number had been treacherously murdered and scalped by a Pawnee chief, and they resolved to revenge his death by an attack on one of the Pawnee villages. They would teach these red reptiles to respect white men, they would, come of it what might; and they had turned aside here to procure an additional supply of powder and lead.
In vain did the major endeavour to dissuade these reckless men from their purpose. They scoffed at the idea of returning good for evil, and insisted on being supplied. The log hut was a store as well as a place of defence, and as they offered to pay for it there was no refusing their requestat least so the major thought. The ammunition was therefore given to them, and in half an hour they were away again at full gallop over the plains on their mission of vengeance. Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. But these men knew not what God said, because they never read His Word, and did not own His sway.
Young Varleys enthusiasm was considerably damped when he learned the errand on which the trappers were bent. From that time forward he gave up all desire to visit the mountains in company with such men, but he still retained an intense longing to roam at large among their rocky fastnesses, and gallop out upon the wide prairies.
Meanwhile he dutifully tended his mothers cattle and sheep, and contented himself with an occasional deer-hunt in the neighbouring forests. He devoted himself also to the training of his dog Crusoean operation which at first cost him many a deep sigh.
Every one has heard of the sagacity and almost reasoning capabilities of the Newfoundland dog. Indeed, some have even gone the length of saying that what is called instinct in these animals is neither more nor less than reason. And, in truth, many of the noble, heroic, and sagacious deeds that have actually been performed by Newfoundland dogs incline us almost to believe that, like man, they are gifted with reasoning powers.
But every one does not know the trouble and patience that is required in order to get a juvenile dog to understand what its master means when he is endeavouring to instruct it.
Crusoes first lesson was an interesting, but not a very successful one. We may remark here that Dick Varley had presented Fan to his mother to be her watch-dog, resolving to devote all his powers to the training of the pup. We may also remark, in reference to Crusoes appearance (and we did not remark it sooner, chiefly because up to this period in his eventful history he was little better than a ball of fat and hair), that his coat was mingled jet-black and pure white, and remarkably glossy, curly, and thick.
A week after the shooting match Crusoes education began. Having fed him for that period with his own hand, in order to gain his affection, Dick took him out one sunny forenoon to the margin of the lake to give him his first lesson.
And here again we must pause to remark that, although a dogs heart is generally gained in the first instance through his mouth, yet, after it is thoroughly gained, his affection is noble and disinterested. He can scarcely be driven from his masters side by blows, and even when thus harshly repelled is always ready, on the shortest notice and with the slightest encouragement, to make it up again.
Well, Dick Varley began by calling out, Crusoe! Crusoe! come here, pup.
Of course Crusoe knew his name by this time, for it had been so often used as a prelude to his meals, that he naturally expected a feed whenever he heard it. This portal to his brain had already been open for some days; but all the other doors were fast locked, and it required a great deal of careful picking to open them.
Now, Crusoe, come here.
Crusoe bounded clumsily to his masters side, cocked his ears, and wagged his tailso far his education was perfect. We say he bounded clumsily, for it must be remembered that he was still a very young pup, with soft, flabby muscles.
Now, Im goin to begin yer edication, pup; think o that.
Whether Crusoe thought of that or not we cannot say, but he looked up in his masters face as he spoke, cocked his ears very high, and turned his head slowly to one side, until it could not turn any further in that direction; then he turned it as much to the other side, whereat his master burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and Crusoe immediately began barking vociferously.
Come, come, said Dick, suddenly checking his mirth, we mustnt play, pup, we must work.
Drawing a leathern mitten from his belt, the youth held it to Crusoes nose, and then threw it a yard away, at the same time exclaiming in a loud, distinct tone, Fetch it.
Crusoe entered at once into the spirit of this part of his training; he dashed gleefully at the mitten, and proceeded to worry it with intense gratification. As for Fetch it, he neither understood the words nor cared a straw about them.
Dick Varley rose immediately, and rescuing the mitten, resumed his seat on a rock.
Come here, Crusoe, he repeated.
Oh! certainly, by all means, said Crusoeno! he didnt exactly say it, but really he looked these words so evidently, that we think it right to let them stand as they are written. If he could have finished the sentence he would certainly have said, Go on with that game over again, old boy; its quite to my tastethe jolliest thing in life, I assure you! At least, if we may not positively assert that he would have said that, no one else can absolutely affirm that he wouldnt.
Well, Dick Varley did do it over again, and Crusoe worried the mitten over againutterly regardless of Fetch it.
Then they did it again, and again, and again, but without the slightest apparent advancement in the path of canine knowledge,and then they went home.
During all this trying operation Dick Varley never once betrayed the slightest feeling of irritability or impatience. He did not expect success at first; he was not, therefore, disappointed at failure.
Next day he had him out againand the nextand the nextand the next again, with the like unfavourable result. In short, it seemed at last as if Crusoes mind had been deeply imbued with the idea that he had been born expressly for the purpose of worrying that mitten, and he meant to fulfil his destiny to the letter.