Dog Crusoe and his Master, by 
R.M. Ballantyne 
 
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Title: The Dog Crusoe and his Master 
Author: R.M. Ballantyne 
Release Date: June 7, 2007 [EBook #21728] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOG 
CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER *** 
 
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England 
 
THE DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. 
CHAPTER ONE. 
THE BACKWOODS SETTLEMENT--CRUSOE'S PARENTAGE
AND EARLY HISTORY--THE AGONISING PAINS AND 
SORROWS OF HIS PUPPYHOOD, AND OTHER INTERESTING 
MATTERS. 
The dog Crusoe was once a pup. Now do not, courteous reader, toss 
your head contemptuously, and exclaim, "Of course he was; I could 
have told you that." You know very well that you have often seen a 
man above six feet high, broad and powerful as a lion, with a bronzed 
shaggy visage and the stern glance of an eagle, of whom you have said, 
or thought, or heard others say, "It is scarcely possible to believe that 
such a man was once a squalling baby." If you had seen our hero in all 
the strength and majesty of full-grown doghood, you would have 
experienced a vague sort of surprise had we told you--as we now 
repeat-- that the dog Crusoe was once a pup--a soft, round, sprawling, 
squeaking pup, as fat as a tallow candle, and as blind as a bat. 
But we draw particular attention to the fact of Crusoe's having once 
been a pup, because in connection with the days of his puppyhood there 
hangs a tale. This peculiar dog may thus be said to have had two 
tails--one in connection with his body, the other with his career. This 
tale, though short, is very harrowing, and, as it is intimately connected 
with Crusoe's subsequent history, we will relate it here. But before 
doing so we must beg our reader to accompany us beyond the civilised 
portions of the United States of America--beyond the frontier 
settlements of the "far west," into those wild prairies which are watered 
by the great Missouri river--the Father of Waters--and his numerous 
tributaries. 
Here dwell the Pawnees, the Sioux, the Delawares, the Crows, the 
Blackfeet, and many other tribes of Red Indians, who are gradually 
retreating step by step towards the Rocky Mountains as the advancing 
white man cuts down their trees and ploughs up their prairies. Here, too, 
dwell the wild horse and the wild ass, the deer, the buffalo, and the 
badger; all, men and brutes alike, wild as the power of untamed and 
ungovernable passion can make them, and free as the wind that sweeps 
over their mighty plains. 
There is a romantic and exquisitely beautiful spot on the banks of one
of the tributaries above referred to--a long stretch of mingled woodland 
and meadow, with a magnificent lake lying like a gem in its green 
bosom--which goes by the name of the Mustang Valley. This remote 
vale, even at the present day, is but thinly peopled by white men, and is 
still a frontier settlement round which the wolf and the bear prowl 
curiously, and from which the startled deer bounds terrified away. At 
the period of which we write the valley had just been taken possession 
of by several families of squatters, who, tired of the turmoil and the 
squabbles of the then frontier settlements, had pushed boldly into the 
far west to seek a new home for themselves, where they could have 
"elbow room," regardless alike of the dangers they might encounter in 
unknown lands and of the Red-skins who dwelt there. 
The squatters were well armed with axes, rifles, and ammunition. Most 
of the women were used to dangers and alarms, and placed implicit 
reliance in the power of their fathers, husbands, and brothers to protect 
them--and well they might, for a bolder set of stalwart men than these 
backwoodsmen never trod the wilderness. Each had been trained to the 
use of the rifle and the axe from infancy, and many of them had spent 
so much of their lives in the woods, that they were more than a match 
for the Indian in his own peculiar pursuits of hunting and war. When 
the squatters first issued from the woods bordering the valley, an 
immense herd of wild horses or mustangs were browsing on the plain. 
These no sooner beheld the cavalcade of white men, than, uttering a 
wild neigh, they tossed their flowing manes in the breeze and dashed 
away like a whirlwind. This incident procured    
    
		
	
	
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