nowledge of the creature's anatomy was not yet correct. The
ball entered the shoulder too high, and the bull, checking himself as
well as he could in his headlong rush, turned round and made at Dick
again.

The failure, coupled with the excitement, proved too much for Dick; he
could not resist discharging his second barrel at the brute's head as
it came on. He might as well have fired at a brick wall. It shook its
shaggy front, and with a hideous bellow thundered forward. Again Dick
sprang to one side, but in doing so a tuft of grass or a stone caught
his foot, and he fell heavily to the ground.

Up to this point Crusoe's admirable training had nailed him to the
spot where he had been left, although the twitching of every fibre in
his body and a low continuous whine showed how gladly he would have
hailed permission to join in the combat; but the instant he saw his
master down, and the buffalo turning to charge again, he sprang
forward with a roar that would have done credit to his bovine enemy,
and seized him by the nose. So vigorous was the rush that he well-nigh
pulled the bull down on its side. One toss of its head, however, sent
Crusoe high into the air; but it accomplished this feat at the expense
of its nose, which was torn and lacerated by the dog's teeth.

Scarcely had Crusoe touched the ground, which he did with a sounding
thump, than he sprang up and flew at his adversary again. This time,
however, he adopted the plan of barking furiously and biting by rapid
yet terrible snaps as he found opportunity, thus keeping the bull
entirely engrossed, and affording Dick an opportunity of reloading his
rifle, which he was not slow to do. Dick then stepped close up, and
while the two combatants were roaring in each other's faces, he shot
the buffalo through the heart. It fell to the earth with a deep groan.

Crusoe's rage instantly vanished on beholding this, and he seemed to
be filled with tumultuous joy at his master's escape, for he gambolled
round him, and whined and fawned upon him in a manner that could not
be misunderstood.

"Good dog; thank'ee, my pup," said Dick, patting Crusoe's head as he
stooped to brush the dust from his leggings. "I don't know what would
ha' become o' me but for your help, Crusoe."

Crusoe turned his head a little to one side, wagged his tail, and
looked at Dick with an expression that said quite plainly, "I'd die
for you, I would--not once, or twice, but ten times, fifty times if
ne