place where his rifle lay, he fell exhausted, and laid his cheek on the Bible, which had fallen out of his pocket there.
While his eyes were closed in a dreamy sort of half-waking slumber, he felt the rough, hairy coat of an animal brush against his forehead. The idea of being torn to pieces by wolves flashed instantly across his mind, and with a shriek of terror he sprang up, to be almost overwhelmed by the caresses of his faithful dog.
Yes, there he was, bounding round his master, barking, whining, and giving vent to every expression of canine joy.
Chapter XIV.—Crusoe’s Return.
THE means by which Crusoe managed to escape from 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 was almost crushed to death; and the instant the Indian gained his feet he sent an arrow at his head with savage violence. Crusoe, however, had been so well used to dodging the blunt-headed arrows that were wont to be shot at him by the boys of the Mustang Valley, that he was quite prepared, and eluded the shaft by an active bound. Moreover, he uttered one of his own peculiar roars, flew at the Indian’s throat, and dragged him down. At the same moment the other Indians came up, and one of them turned aside to the rescue. This man happened to have an old gun, at that time exchanged for peltries by the fur-traders. With the butt he struck Crusoe a blow that sent him sprawling.
The rest of the savages, as we have seen, continued in pursuit of Dick until he leaped into the river; then they returned, took the saddle and bridle off his dead horse, and rejoined their comrades. Here they held a court-martial on Crusoe, who was now bound foot and muzzle with cords. Some were for killing him; others, who admired his noble appearance, immense size, and courage, thought it would be well to carry him to their village and keep him. There was a pretty violent dispute on the subject, but at length it was agreed that they should spare his life, and perhaps have a dog-dance round him when they got to their wigwams.
This dance, of which Crusoe was to be the chief though passive performer, is peculiar to some of the tribes east of
