Crusoe bounded clumsily to his master's side, cocked his ears, and
wagged his tail,--so far his education was perfect. We say he bounded
_clumsily_, for it must be remembered that he was still a very young
pup, with soft, flabby muscles.

"Now, I'm goin' to begin yer edication, pup; think o' that."

Whether Crusoe thought of that or not we cannot say, but he looked
up in his master's face as he spoke, cocked his ears very high, and
turned his head slowly to one side, until it could not turn any
farther in that direction; then he turned it as much to the other
side; whereat his master burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter,
and Crusoe immediately began barking vociferously.

"Come, come," said Dick, suddenly checking his mirth, "we mustn't
play, pup, we must work."

Drawing a leathern mitten from his belt, the youth held it to Crusoe's
nose, and then threw it a yard away, at the same time exclaiming in a
loud, distinct tone, "Fetch it."

Crusoe entered at once into the spirit of this part of his training;
he dashed gleefully at the mitten, and proceeded to worry it with
intense gratification. As for "Fetch it," he neither understood the
words nor cared a straw about them.

Dick Varley rose immediately, and rescuing the mitten, resumed his
seat on a rock.

"Come here, Crusoe," he repeated.