broad chest high out of the curling wave, at a speed that neither man nor beast could keep up with for a moment. His intellect now was sharp and quick as a needle; he never required a second bidding. When Dick went out hunting, he used frequently to drop a mitten or a powder-horn, unknown to the dog, and after walking miles would, stop and look into the mild, gentle face of his companion.
“Crusoe,” he said, in the same quiet tones with which he would have addressed a human friend, “I dropped my mitten; go and fetch it, pup.”
One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe’s eye, and in a moment he was away at full gallop, nor did he rest until the lost article was lying at his master’s feet. Dick was loath to try how far back on his track Crusoe would run if desired He had often gone back five and six miles at a stretch; but his powers did not stop here. He could carry articles back to the spot from which they had been taken and leave them there. He could head the game that his master was pursuing and turn it back; and he would guard any object he was desired to “watch” with unflinching constancy.
In personal appearance he was majestic, having grown to an immense size, even for a Newfoundland. Had his visage been at all wolfish in character, his aspect would have been terrible. But he possessed in an eminent degree that mild, humble expression of face, peculiar to his race. When roused or excited, and especially when bounding through the forest with the chase in view, he was absolutely magnificent. At other times his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quiet walk with Dick Varley to anything else under the sun. But when Dick was inclined to be boisterous, Crusoe’s tail and ears rose at a moment’s notice, and he was ready for anything.
Crusoe’s eye was constantly watching the face of his master. If he had been in the midst of an excited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick had called out, “Down Crusoe,” he would have sunk to the earth like a stone. No doubt it took many months of training to bring the dog to this state of perfection, but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, and love.
Besides all this, Crusoe could speak! He spoke by means of the dog’s dumb alphabet in a way that defies description. He conversed, so to speak, with his extremities—his head and his tail. But his eyes, his soft
