The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western PrairiesBallantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
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The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies
Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
Adventure stories; Dogs -- Fiction
The pace was tremendous, for the youth's weight was nothing to that
muscular frame, which bounded with cat-like agility from wave to wave
of the undulating plain in ungovernable terror. In a few minutes the
clump of willows where Crusoe and his rifle lay were out of sight
behind; but it mattered not, for Dick had looked up at the sky and
noted the position of the sun at the moment of starting. Away they
went on the wings of the wind, mile after mile over the ocean-like
waste--curving slightly aside now and then to avoid the bluffs that
occasionally appeared on the scene for a few minutes and then swept
out of sight behind them. Then they came to a little rivulet. It was a
mere brook of a few feet wide, and two or three yards, perhaps, from
bank to bank. Over this they flew so easily that the spring was
scarcely felt, and continued the headlong course. And now a more
barren country was around them. Sandy ridges and scrubby grass
appeared everywhere, reminding Dick of the place where he had been
so ill. Rocks, too, were scattered about, and at one place the horse
dashed with clattering hoofs between a couple of rocky sand-hills
which, for a few seconds, hid the prairie from view. Here the mustang
suddenly shied with such violence that his rider was nearly thrown,
while a rattlesnake darted from the path. Soon they emerged from this
pass, and again the plains became green and verdant. Presently a
distant line of trees showed that they were approaching water, and
in a few minutes they were close on it. For the first time Dick felt
alarm. He sought to check his steed, but no force he could exert had
the smallest influence on it.
Trees and bushes flew past in bewildering confusion. The river was
before him; what width, he could not tell, but he was reckless now,
like his charger, which he struck with the willow rod with all his
force as they came up. One tremendous bound, and they were across, but
Dick had to lie flat on the mustang's back as it crashed through the
bushes to avoid being scraped off by the trees. Again they were on the
open plain, and the wild horse began to show signs of exhaustion.
Now was its rider's opportunity to assert his dominion. He plied the
willow rod and urged the panting horse on, until it was white with
foam and laboured a little in its gait. Then Dick gently drew the
halter, and it broke into a trot; still tighter, and it walked, and in
another minute stood still, trembling in every limb. Dick now quietly
rubbed its neck, and spoke to it in soothing tones; then he wheeled it
gently round, and urged it forward. It was quite subdued and docile.
In a little time they came to the river and forded it, after which
they went through the belt of woodland at a walk. By the time they
reached the open prairie the mustang was recovered sufficiently to
feel its spirit returning, so Dick gave it a gentle touch with the
switch, and away they went on their return journey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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