enable him to understand the order, or he had resolved not to obey it,
for instead of retreating, he drew a deep gurgling breath, curled his
nose, and displayed a row of teeth that caused the old woman to draw
back in alarm. Crusoe's was a forgiving spirit. The instant that
opposition ceased he forgot the injury, and was meekly advancing, when
Dick held up his finger.

"Go outside, pup, and wait."

Crusoe's tail drooped; with a deep sigh he turned and left the tent.
He took up a position near the entrance, however, and sat down
resignedly. So meek, indeed, did the poor dog look that six
mangy-looking curs felt their dastardly hearts emboldened to make a
rush at him with boisterous yells.

Crusoe did not rise. He did not even condescend to turn his head
toward them; but he looked at them out of the corner of his dark eye,
wrinkled--very slightly--the skin of his nose, exhibited two beautiful
fangs, and gave utterance to a soft remark, that might be described
as quiet, deep-toned gurgling. It wasn't much, but it was more than
enough for the valiant six, who paused and snarled violently.

It was a peculiar trait of Crusoe's gentle nature that, the moment any
danger ceased, he resumed his expression of nonchalant gravity. The
expression on this occasion was misunderstood, however; and as about
two dozen additional yelping dogs had joined the ranks of the enemy,
they advanced in close order to the attack.

Crusoe still sat quiet, and kept his head high; but he _looked_ at
them again, and exhibited four fangs for their inspection. Among the