During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunches beside him and
looked. And you haven't, no, you haven't got the most distant notion
of the way in which that dog manoeuvred with his head and face. He
opened his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head first a
little to one side, then a little to the other. After that he turned
it a _good deal_ to one side, and then a good deal more to the other.
Then he brought it straight, and raised one eyebrow a little, and then
the other a little, and then both together very much. Then, when Dick
paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild for a moment, and
yawned vociferously. Presently Dick moved--up went the ears again, and
Crusoe came, in military parlance, "to the position of attention!" At
last supper was ready and they began.
Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back from him, in order that
they might eat it in company. And between every bite and sup that Dick
took, he gave a bite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they
ate together; and when Dick lay that night under the willow branches,
looking up through them at the stars, with his feet to the fire and
Crusoe close along his side, he thought it the best and sweetest
supper he ever ate, and the happiest evening he ever spent--so
wonderfully do circumstances modify our notions of felicity.
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