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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"


"Hope it's not dry," said Joe anxiously as they galloped up to it.
"No, there's water, lads," and they dashed forward to a pool that had
not yet been dried up. They drank long and eagerly before they noticed
that the pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Many streams in
those parts of the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one
was not utterly undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable.
"We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deep hole in the
sand with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the
water filtered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was,
nevertheless, much improved.
"We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think?" inquired Dick; "we've not
seed Injuns for some days."
"P'r'aps 'twould be better not," said Joe; "but I daresay we're safe
enough."
A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found,
and the three friends bivouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were
aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.
"It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their
rifles nevertheless.


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