Crusoe looked up and assented to this.
"Gave us a hard tussle, though; very nigh sent us both under, didn't
he, pup?"
Crusoe agreed entirely, and, as if the remark reminded him of
honourable scars, he licked his wound.
"Ah, pup!" cried Dick, sympathetically, "does't hurt ye, eh, poor
dog?"
Hurt him? such a question! No, he should think not; better ask if that
leap from the precipice hurt yourself.
So Crusoe might have said, but he didn't; he took no notice of the
remark whatever.
"We'll cut him up now, pup," continued Dick. "The skin'll make a
splendid bed for you an' me o' nights, and a saddle for Charlie."
Dick cut out all the claws of the bear by the roots, and spent the
remainder of that night in cleaning them and stringing them on a strip
of leather to form a necklace. Independently of the value of these
enormous claws (the largest as long as a man's middle finger) as an
evidence of prowess, they formed a remarkably graceful collar, which
Dick wore round his neck ever after with as much pride as if he had
been a Pawnee warrior.
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