The Dog Crusoe and His Master | Page 5

can tell,
but cure him she did, for, in the course of a few weeks, Crusoe was as
well and sleek and fat as ever.
CHAPTER II.
_A shooting-match and its consequences_--_New friends introduced to
the reader_--Crusoe and his mother change masters.
Shortly after the incident narrated in the last chapter the squatters of the
Mustang Valley lost their leader. Major Hope suddenly announced his
intention of quitting the settlement and returning to the civilized world.
Private matters, he said, required his presence there--matters which he
did not choose to speak of, but which would prevent his returning again
to reside among them. Go he must, and, being a man of determination,
go he did; but before going he distributed all his goods and chattels
among the settlers. He even gave away his rifle, and Fan and Crusoe.
These last, however, he resolved should go together; and as they were
well worth having, he announced that he would give them to the best
shot in the valley. He stipulated that the winner should escort him to the
nearest settlement eastward, after which he might return with the rifle
on his shoulder.
Accordingly, a long level piece of ground on the river's bank, with a
perpendicular cliff at the end of it, was selected as the shooting-ground,
and, on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, the competitors began
to assemble.
"Well, lad, first as usual," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as he reached the
ground and found Dick Varley there before him.
"I've bin here more than an hour lookin' for a new kind o' flower that
Jack Morgan told me he'd seen. And I've found it too. Look here; did
you ever see one like it before?"

Blunt leaned his rifle against a tree, and carefully examined the flower.
"Why, yes, I've seed a-many o' them up about the Rocky Mountains,
but never one here-away. It seems to have gone lost itself. The last I
seed, if I remimber rightly, wos near the head-waters o' the
Yellowstone River, it wos--jest where I shot a grizzly bar."
"Was that the bar that gave you the wipe on the cheek?" asked Varley,
forgetting the flower in his interest about the bear.
"It wos. I put six balls in that bar's carcass, and stuck my knife into its
heart ten times, afore it gave out; an' it nearly ripped the shirt off my
back afore I wos done with it."
"I would give my rifle to get a chance at a grizzly!" exclaimed Varley,
with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.
"Whoever got it wouldn't have much to brag of," remarked a burly
young backwoodsman, as he joined them.
His remark was true, for poor Dick's weapon was but a sorry affair. It
missed fire, and it hung fire; and even when it did fire, it remained a
matter of doubt in its owner's mind whether the slight deviations from
the direct line made by his bullets were the result of his or its bad
shooting.
Further comment upon it was checked by the arrival of a dozen or more
hunters on the scene of action. They were a sturdy set of bronzed, bold,
fearless men, and one felt, on looking at them, that they would prove
more than a match for several hundreds of Indians in open fight. A few
minutes after, the major himself came on the ground with the prize rifle
on his shoulder, and Fan and Crusoe at his heels--the latter tumbling,
scrambling, and yelping after its mother, fat and clumsy, and happy as
possible, having evidently quite forgotten that it had been nearly
roasted alive only a few weeks before.
Immediately all eyes were on the rifle, and its merits were discussed
with animation.

And well did it deserve discussion, for such a piece had never before
been seen on the western frontier. It was shorter in the barrel and larger
in the bore than the weapons chiefly in vogue at that time, and, besides
being of beautiful workmanship, was silver-mounted. But the grand
peculiarity about it, and that which afterwards rendered it the mystery
of mysteries to the savages, was that it had two sets of locks--one
percussion, the other flint--so that, when caps failed, by taking off the
one set of locks and affixing the others, it was converted into a flint
rifle. The major, however, took care never to run short of caps, so that
the flint locks were merely held as a reserve in case of need.
"Now, lads," cried Major Hope, stepping up to the point whence they
were to shoot, "remember the terms. He who first drives the nail
obtains the rifle, Fan, and her pup, and accompanies me to the nearest
settlement. Each man shoots with his own gun, and draws lots for the
chance."