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
As he drew near the excitement among the strangers seemed very great,
and, from the peculiarity of the various cries that reached him, he
knew that there were women and children in the band--a fact which, in
such a place and at such a season, was so unnatural that it surprised
him very much. He noted also that, though the men in front were
Indians, their dresses were those of trappers and hunters, and he
almost leaped out of his saddle when he observed that "_Pale-faces_"
were among them. But he had barely time to note these facts when he
was up with the band. According to Indian custom, he did not check his
speed till he was within four or five yards of the advance-guard, who
stood in a line before him, quite still, and with their rifles lying
loosely in their left palms; then he reined his steed almost on its
haunches.
One of the Indians advanced and spoke a few words in a language which
was quite unintelligible to Dick, who replied, in the little Pawnee he
could muster, that he didn't understand him.
"Why, you must be a trapper!" exclaimed a thick-set, middle-aged man,
riding out from the group. "Can you speak English?"
"Ay, that can I," cried Dick joyfully, riding up and shaking the
stranger heartily by the hand; "an' right glad am I to fall in wi' a
white-skin an' a civil tongue in his head."
"Good sooth, sir," replied the stranger, with a quiet smile on his
kind, weather-beaten face, "I can return you the compliment; for when
I saw you come thundering down the corrie with that wonderful horse
and no less wonderful dog of yours, I thought you were the wild man o'
the mountain himself, and had an ambush ready to back you. But, young
man, do you mean to say that you live here in the mountain all alone
after this fashion?"
"No, that I don't. I've comed here in my travels, but truly this
bean't my home. But, sir (for I see you are what the fur-traders call
a bourgeois), how comes it that such a band as this rides i' the
mountains? D'ye mean to say that _they_ live here?" Dick looked round
in surprise, as he spoke, upon the crowd of mounted men and women,
with children and pack-horses, that now surrounded him.
"'Tis a fair question, lad. I am a principal among the fur-traders
whose chief trading-post lies near the Pacific Ocean, on the west side
of these mountains; and I have come with these trappers and their
families, as you see, to hunt the beaver and other animals for a
season in the mountains. We've never been here before; but that's a
matter of little moment, for it's not the first time I've been on
what may be called a discovery-trading expedition. We are somewhat
entangled, however, just now among these wild passes, and if you can
guide us out of our difficulties to the east side of the mountains,
I'll thank you heartily and pay you well. But first tell me who and
what you are, if it's a fair question."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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