uncalled-for dash at the horse's heels. This wild act, so contrary to
the dog's gentle nature, was a mere piece of acting. He knew that the
horse would not advance without getting a fright, so he gave him one
in this way, which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoe followed close at
his heels, so as to bring the line alongside of the nag's body, and
thereby prevent its getting entangled; but despite his best efforts
the horse got on one side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely
let go his hold of the line, and waited till more open ground enabled
him to catch it again. Then he hung heavily back, gradually checked
the horse's speed, and finally trotted him up to his master's side.

"'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Blunt in surprise.

"Ah, Joe! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet. He's as good as a man
any day. I've done little else but train him for two years gone by,
and he can do most anything but shoot--he can't handle the rifle
nohow."

"Ha! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try," said Henri,
plunging on to his horse with a laugh, and arranging the carcass of
the antelope across the pommel of his saddle.

Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted and ambled on through wood
and plain all day, until the sun began to descend below the tree-tops
of the bluffs on the west. Then Joe Blunt looked about him for a place
on which to camp, and finally fixed on a spot under the shadow of a
noble birch by the margin of a little stream. The carpet of grass on
its banks was soft like green velvet, and the rippling waters of the
brook were clear as crystal--very different from the muddy Missouri
into which it flowed.