Crusoe's return, and his private adventures among the Indians--Dickat a very low ebb--Crusoe saves him. The means by which Crusoe managed to escapefrom his two-legged captors, and rejoin his master,require separate and special notice.
In the struggle with the fallen horse and Indian,which Dick had seen begun but not concluded, he wasalmost crushed to death; and the instant the Indiangained his feet, he sent an arrow at his head withsavage violence. Crusoe, however, had been so wellused to dodging the blunt-headed arrows that werewont to be shot at him by the boys of the MustangValley, that he was quite prepared, and eluded theshaft by an active bound. Moreover, he uttered one ofhis own peculiar roars, flew at the Indian's throat, anddragged him down. At the same moment the otherIndians came up, and one of them turned aside to therescue. This man happened to have an old gun, ofthe cheap sort at that time exchanged for peltries bythe fur-traders. With the butt of this he struckCrusoe a blow on the head that sent him sprawling onthe grass.
The rest of the savages, as we have seen, continuedin pursuit of Dick until he leaped into the river; thenthey returned, took the saddle and bridle off his deadhorse, and rejoined their comrades. Here they held acourt-martial on Crusoe, who was now bound foot andmuzzle with cords. Some were for killing him; others,who admired his noble appearance, immense size, andcourage, thought it would be well to carry him to theirvillage and keep him. There was a pretty violent disputeon the subject, but at length it was agreed thatthey should spare his life in the meantime, and perhapshave a dog-dance round him when they got to theirwigwams.
This dance, of which Crusoe was to be the chiefthough passive performer, is peculiar to some of thetribes east of the Rocky Mountains, and consists inkilling a dog and cutting out its liver, which is afterwardssliced into shreds or strings and hung on a poleabout the height of a man's head. A band of warriorsthen come and dance wildly round this pole, and eachone in succession goes up to the raw liver and bites apiece off it, without, however, putting his hands nearit. Such is the dog-dance, and to such was poor Crusoedestined by his fierce captors, especially by the onewhose throat still bore very evident marks of his teeth.
But Crusoe was much too clever a dog to be disposedof in so disgusting a manner. He had privately resolvedin his own mind that he would escape; but thehopelessness of his ever carrying that resolution intoeffect would have been apparent to any one who couldhave seen the way in which his muzzle was secured,and his four paws were tied together in a bunch, ashe hung suspended across the saddle of one of thesavages!
This particular party of Indians who had followedDick Varley determined not to wait for the return oftheir comrades who were in pursuit of the other twohunters, but to go straight home, so for several daysthey galloped away over the prairie. At nights, whenthey encamped, Crusoe was thrown on the ground likea piece of old lumber, and left to lie there with a merescrap of food till morning, when he was again thrownacross the horse of his captor and carried on. Whenthe village was reached, he was thrown again on theground, and would certainly have been torn to pieces infive minutes by the Indian curs which came howlinground him, had not an old woman come to the rescueand driven them away. With the help of her grand-son--alittle naked creature, just able to walk, or ratherto stagger--she dragged him to her tent, and, undoingthe line that fastened his mouth, offered him a bone.
Although lying in a position that was unfavourablefor eating purposes, Crusoe opened his jaws and took it.
An awful crash was followed by two crunches--and itwas gone! and Crusoe looked up in the old squaw'sface with a look that said plainly, "Another of the same,please, and as quick as possible." The old woman gavehim another, and then a lump of meat, which latterwent down with a gulp; but he coughed after it! andit was well he didn't choke. After this the squaw lefthim, and Crusoe spent the remainder of that nightgnawing the cords that bound him. So diligent washe that he was free before morning and walked deliberatelyout of the tent. Then he shook himself, andwith a yell that one might have fancied was intendedfor defiance he bounded joyfully away, and was soonout of sight.
To a dog with a good appetite which had been on shortallowance for several days, the mouthful given to him bythe old squaw was a mere nothing. All that day hekept bounding over the plain from bluff to bluff insearch of something to eat, but found nothing untildusk, when he pounced suddenly and most unexpectedlyon a prairie-hen fast asleep. In one moment its lifewas gone. In less than a minute its body was gonetoo--feathers and bones and all--down Crusoe's ravenousthroat.
On the identical spot Crusoe lay down and slept likea top for four hours. At the end of that time hejumped up, bolted a scrap of skin that somehow hadbeen overlooked at supper, and flew straight over theprairie to the spot where he had had the scuffle withthe Indian. He came to the edge of the river, tookprecisely the same leap that his master had done beforehim, and came out on the other side a good deal higherup than Dick had done, for the dog had no savages tododge, and was, as we have said before, a power............