being asked or
given on either side. On arriving at New York the major's friend, as we
have said, made him a present of the dogs. Not being much of a dog
fancier, he soon tired of old Crusoe, and gave him away to a gentleman,
who took him down to Florida, and that was the end of him. He was never
heard of more.

When Crusoe, junior, was born, he was born, of course, without a name.
That was given to him afterwards in honour of his father. He was also
born in company with a brother and two sisters, all of whom drowned
themselves accidentally, in the first month of their existence, by
falling into the river which flowed past the block-house,--a calamity
which occurred, doubtless, in consequence of their having gone out
without their mother's leave. Little Crusoe was with his brother and
sisters at the time, and fell in along with them, but was saved from
sharing their fate by his mother, who, seeing what had happened, dashed
with an agonised howl into the water, and, seizing him in her mouth,
brought him ashore in a half-drowned condition. She afterwards brought
the others ashore one by one, but the poor little things were dead.

And now we come to the harrowing part of our tale, for the proper
understanding of which the foregoing dissertation was needful.

One beautiful afternoon, in that charming season of the American year
called the Indian summer, there came a family of Sioux Indians to the
Mustang Valley, and pitched their tent close to the block-house. A
young hunter stood leaning against the gate-post of the palisades,
watching the movements of the Indians, who, having just finished a long
"palaver" or "talk" with Major Hope, were now in the act of preparing
supper. A fire had been kindled on the green sward in front of the
tent, and above it stood a tripod, from which depended a large tin
camp-kettle. Over this hung an ill-favoured Indian woman, or squaw,
who, besides attending to the contents of the pot, bestowed sundry cuffs
and kicks upon her little child, which sat near to her playing with
several Indian curs that gambolled round the fire. The master of the
family and his two sons reclined on buffalo robes, smoking their stone
pipes or calumets in silence. There was nothing peculiar in their
appearance. Their faces were neither dignified nor coarse in
expression, but wore an aspect of stupid apathy, which formed a striking
contrast to the countenance of the young hunter, who seemed an amused
spe