The Dog Crusoe and his Master | Page 9

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 Blunt's rifle."
Mrs Varley's 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 what's that
scraping at the door?"

"Oh! that's 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 major's 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,
that's right, mother, give her somethin' to eat; she's hungry, I know by
the look o' her eye."
"Deary me, Dick," said Mrs Varley, who now proceeded to spread the
youth's 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
shot--rifle, Fan, an' pup!"
"Well, well, now that was cliver; but--" Here the old woman paused
and looked grave.
"But what, mother?"
"You'll be wantin' to go off to the mountains now, I fear me, boy."
"Wantin' now!" exclaimed the youth earnestly; "I'm always wantin'. I've
bin wantin' ever since I could walk; but I won't go till you let me,
mother, that I won't!" And he struck the table with his fist so forcibly

that the platters rung again.
"You're a good boy, Dick; but you're too young yit to ventur' among the
Red-skins."
"An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ventur' at all. You know,
mother dear, I don't want to leave you; but I was born to be a hunter,
and everybody in them parts is a hunter, and I can't 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; that's 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 view--a 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, "They're
trappers, mother, I'll 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