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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"

But we will not insist on the
term, good reader, if you object strongly to it. We are willing to
admit that the wolves are _not_ villanous, but, _assuredly_, they are
unlovable.
In the course of the afternoon the three horsemen reached a small
creek, the banks of which were lined with a few stunted shrubs and
trees. Having eaten nothing since the night before, they dismounted
here to "feed," as Joe expressed it.
"Cur'ous thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a light by means of flint,
steel, and tinder-box--"cur'ous thing that we're made to need sich a
lot o' grub. If we could only get on like the sarpints, now, wot can
breakfast on a rabbit, and then wait a month or two for dinner! Ain't
it cur'ous?"
Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow the fire into a blaze.
Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stood speechless, with
his mouth open.
"What's the matter? what is't?" cried Dick and Joe, seizing their
rifles instinctively.
"De--grub--him--be--forgat!"
There was a look of blank horror, and then a burst of laughter from
Dick Varley.


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