Now, you must know that after a battle fought and victory won, it was Grumbo's wont to indulge himself in a little brief repose, which he would take stretched out on the ground, with his shaggy head laid, lion-like, on his extended paws--betraying, in both attitude and look, a sober self-satisfaction so entire as made it seem that for him the world had nothing more to offer. But this morning, notwithstanding the successful, even brilliant, winding up of their great adventure, our war-dog, instead of unbending as usual, held grimly aloof from the rest of the party, still seated on his tail, to which he had retired, snubbed, in the very flush of victory, by his ungrateful leader. Evidently our canine hero had got his nose knocked out of joint. Nevertheless, he failed not to maintain a wary though distant watch over the movements of the young Indian, whom, being the sort of game they had always up to this moment hunted to the bloody end, he could not but regard with a jealous and distrustful eye. From time to time, by way of giving him a piece of his mind, he would cast side-long at his master a look of severe reproach, unqualified disapprobation. Plain was it that to his dogship's way of thinking it was a very bungling fashion of doing business, thus to suffer this red barbarian to pass from under their hands, untouched by tomahawk or tooth--betraying, as it did, a weakness of feeling altogether unbeseeming warriors of the first blood like themselves. Therefore did his excellency doggedly keep his tail, nor would he unbend, so far as even to sniff at--though hungry as a nigger--the raw meat which, without measure, his master had laid before him.