the treat that awaited him, of course the mitten never was "fetched."

At last Dick Varley saw that this system would never do, so he changed
his tactics, and the next morning gave Crusoe no breakfast, but took
him out at the usual hour to go through his lesson. This new course of
conduct seemed to perplex Crusoe not a little, for on his way down to
the beach he paused frequently and looked back at the cottage,
and then expressively up at his master's face. But the master was
inexorable; he went on, and Crusoe followed, for _true_ love had
now taken possession of the pup's young heart, and he preferred his
master's company to food.

Varley now began by letting the learner smell a piece of meat, which
he eagerly sought to devour, but was prevented, to his immense
disgust. Then the mitten was thrown as heretofore, and Crusoe made a
few steps towards it, but being in no mood for play he turned back.

"Fetch it," said the teacher.

"I won't," replied the learner mutely, by means of that expressive
sign--_not doing it_.

Hereupon Dick Varley rose, took up the mitten, and put it into the
pup's mouth. Then, retiring a couple of yards, he held out the piece
of meat and said, "Fetch it."

Crusoe instantly spat out the glove and bounded towards the meat--once
more to be disappointed.

This was done a second time, and Crusoe came forward _with the mitten