t marks of his teeth.

But Crusoe was much too clever a dog to be disposed of in so
disgusting a manner. He had privately resolved in his own mind that
he would escape; but the hopelessness of his ever carrying that
resolution into effect would have been apparent to any one who could
have seen the way in which his muzzle was secured, and his four paws
were tied together in a bunch, as he hung suspended across the saddle
of one of the savages!

This particular party of Indians who had followed Dick Varley
determined not to wait for the return of their comrades who were in
pursuit of the other two hunters, but to go straight home, so for
several days they galloped away over the prairie. At nights, when they
encamped, Crusoe was thrown on the ground like a piece of old lumber,
and left to lie there with a mere scrap of food till morning, when he
was again thrown across the horse of his captor and carried on. When
the village was reached, he was thrown again on the ground, and would
certainly have been torn to pieces in five minutes by the Indian curs
which came howling round him, had not an old woman come to the rescue
and driven them away. With the help of her grand-son--a little naked
creature, just able to walk, or rather to stagger--she dragged him to
her tent, and, undoing the line that fastened his mouth, offered him a
bone.

Although lying in a position that was unfavourable for eating
purposes, Crusoe opened his jaws and took it. An awful crash was
followed by two crunches--and it was gone! and Crusoe looked up in the
old squaw's face with a look that said plainly, "Another of the same,
please, and as quick as possible." The old woman gave him another,
and then a lump of meat, which latter went down with a gulp; but he
coughed after it! and it was well he didn't choke. After this the
squaw left him, and Crusoe spent the remainder of that night gnawing
the cords that bound him. So diligent was he that he was free before
morning and walked deliberately out of the tent. Then he shook
himself, and with a yell that one might have fancied was intended for
defiance he bounded joyfully away, and was soon out of sight.

To a dog with a good appetite which had been on short allowance for
several days, the mouthful given to him by the old squaw was a mere
nothing. All that day he kept bounding over the plain from bluff to
bluff in search of something to eat, but found nothing until dusk,
when he pounced suddenly and most