Crusoe made one bound that a lion might have been proud of, and seizing
the aggressor by the back, lifted him off his legs and held him,
howling, in the air--at the same time casting a look towards his master
for further instructions.

"Pitch him in," said Dick, making a sign with his hand.

Crusoe turned and quietly dropped the dog into the lake. Having
regarded his struggles there for a few moments with grave severity of
countenance, he walked slowly back and sat down beside his master.

The little dog made good its retreat as fast as three legs would carry
it, and the surly dog, having swam ashore, retired sulkily, with his
tail very much between his legs.

Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by great and small among
the well-disposed of the canine tribes of the Mustang Valley.

But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not actively engaged in Dick
Varley's service, he busied himself with private little matters of his
own. He undertook modest little excursions into the woods or along the
margin of the lake, sometimes alone, but more frequently with a little
friend whose whole heart and being seemed to be swallowed up in
admiration of his big companion. Whether Crusoe botanised or geologised
on these excursions we will not venture to say. Assuredly he seemed as
though he did both, for he poked his nose into every bush and tuft of
moss, and turned over the stones, and dug holes in the ground--and, in
short, if he did not understand these sciences, he behaved very much as
if he did. Certainly he knew as much about them as many of the human
species do.

In these walks he never took the slightest notice of Grumps (that was
the little dog's name), but Grumps made up for this by taking excessive
notice of _him_. When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and sat down to
look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Grumps trotted on too. When
Crusoe examined a bush Grumps sat down to watch him, and when he dug a
hole Grumps looked into it to see what was there. Grumps never helped
him; his sole delight was in looking on. They didn't converse much,
these two dogs. To be in each other's company seemed to be happiness
enough--at least Grumps thought so.

There was one point at which Grumps stopped short, however, and ceased
to follow his friend; and that was when he rushed headlong into the lake
and disported himself for an hour at a time in its cool waters. Crusoe
was, both by nature and training, a splendid wat