It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe held on, for it was a
settled principle in his mind _never_ to give in. At first the check
upon Charlie's speed was imperceptible, but by degrees the weight of
the gigantic dog began to tell, and after a time they fell a little
to the rear; then by good fortune the troop passed through a mass of
underwood, and the line getting entangled brought their mad career
forcibly to a close; the mustangs passed on, and the two friends were
left to keep each other company in the dark.
How long they would have remained thus is uncertain, for neither
of them had sagacity enough to undo a complicated entanglement.
Fortunately, however, in his energetic tugs at the line, Crusoe's
sharp teeth partially severed it, and a sudden start on the part of
Charlie caused it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized
the end of it, and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian
camp, never halting or turning aside until he had placed the line in
Dick Varley's hand.
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