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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Dog Crusoe and His Master A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies"

Mahtawa looked
surprised, but there was no alternative. Joe's authoritative tone
brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey.
"Crusoe," said Dick, "_watch him!_"
The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and fixed his eyes
on the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things. At the same
time he displayed his full complement of teeth, and uttered a sound
like distant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.
"Come along; he's safe now," cried Dick, hurrying away in the
direction of the willow bluff, which they soon reached, and found that
the faithful squaw had tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover,
had bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on the back of
the pack-horse; but she had not remained with them.
"Bless yer dark face!" ejaculated Joe, as he sprang into the saddle
and rode out of the clump of bushes.

He was followed immediately by the others, and in three minutes they
were flying over the plain at full speed.
On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded a distant view of the
woods skirting the Pawnee camp, they drew up; and Dick, putting his
fingers to his mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.


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