rejoicings--the feast at the block-house--grumps andcrusoe come out strong--the closing scene.
the day of dick's arrival with his companions wasa great day in the annals of the mustang valley,and major hope resolved to celebrate it by an impromptufestival at the old block-house; for many hearts in thevalley had been made glad that day, and he knew fullwell that, under such circumstances, some safety-valvemust be devised for the escape of overflowing excitement.
a messenger was sent round to invite the populationto assemble without delay in front of the block-house.
with backwoods-like celerity the summons was obeyed;men, women, and children hurried towards the centralpoint, wondering, yet more than half suspecting, whatwas the major's object in calling them together.
they were not long in doubt. the first sight thatpresented itself, as they came trooping up the slope infront of the log-hut, was an ox roasting whole beforea gigantic bonfire. tables were being extemporized onthe broad level plot in front of the gate. other firesthere were, of smaller dimensions, on which sundrysteaming pots were placed, and various joints of wildhorse, bear, and venison roasted, and sent forth a savouryodour as well as a pleasant hissing noise. theinhabitants of the block-house were self-taught brewers,and the result of their recent labours now stood displayedin a row of goodly casks of beer--the onlybeverage with which the dwellers in these far-off regionswere wont to regale themselves.
the whole scene, as the cooks moved actively aboutupon the lawn, and children romped round the fires,and settlers came flocking through the forests, mighthave recalled the revelry of merry england in the oldentime, though the costumes of the far west were perhapssomewhat different from those of old england.
no one of all the band assembled there on that dayof rejoicing required to ask what it was all about. hadany one been in doubt for a moment, a glance at thecentre of the crowd assembled round the gate of thewestern fortress would have quickly enlightened him.
for there stood dick varley, and his mild-looking mother,and his loving dog crusoe. there, too, stood joe blunt,like a bronzed warrior returned from the fight, turningfrom one to another as question poured in upon questionalmost too rapidly to permit of a reply. there, too,stood henri, making enthusiastic speeches to whoeverchose to listen to him--now glaring at the crowd withclenched fists and growling voice, as he told of how joeand he had been tied hand and foot, and lashed to poles,and buried in leaves, and threatened with a slow deathby torture; at other times bursting into a hilarious laughas he held forth on the predicament of mahtawa, whenthat wily chief was treed by crusoe in the prairie.
young marston was there, too, hanging about dick,whom he loved as a brother and regarded as a perfecthero. grumps, too, was there, and fan. do youthink, reader, that grumps looked at any one butcrusoe? if you do, you are mistaken. grumps onthat day became a regular, an incorrigible, utter, andperfect nuisance to everybody--not excepting himself,poor beast! grumps was a dog of one idea, and thatidea was crusoe. out of that great idea there grew onelittle secondary idea, and that idea was that the onlyjoy on earth worth mentioning was to sit on his haunches,exactly six inches from crusoe's nose, and gaze steadfastlyinto his face. wherever crusoe went grumps went.
if crusoe stopped, grumps was down before him in aninstant. if crusoe bounded away, which in the exuberanceof his spirits he often did, grumps was after himlike a bundle of mad hair. he was in everybody'sway, in crusoe's way, and being, so to speak, "besidehimself," was also in his own way. if people trod uponhim accidentally, which they often did, grumps uttereda solitary heart-rending yell proportioned in intensityto the excruciating nature of the torture he endured,then instantly resumed his position and his fascinatedstare. crusoe generally held his head up, and gazedover his little friend at what was going on around him;but if for a moment he permitted his eye to rest on thecountenance of grumps, that creature's tail becamesuddenly imbued with an amount of wriggling vitalitythat seemed to threaten its separation from the body.
it was really quite interesting to watch this unblushing,and disinterested, and utterly reckless display ofaffection on the part of grumps, and the amiable wayin which crusoe put up with it. we say put up withit advisedly, because it must have been a very greatinconvenience to him, seeing that if he attempted tomove, his satellite moved in front of him, so that hisonly way of escaping temporarily was by jumping overgrumps's head.
grumps was everywhere all day. nobody, almost,escaped trampling on part of him. he tumbled overeverything, into everything, and against everything.
he knocked himself, singed himself, and scalded himself,and in fact forgot himself altogether; and when,late that night, crusoe went with dick into his mother'scottage, and the door was shut, grumps stretched hisruffled, battered, ill-used, and dishevelled little bodydown on the door-step, thrust his nose against theopening below the door, and lay in humble contentmentall night, for he knew that crusoe was there.
of course such an occasion could not pass withouta shooting-match. rifles were brought out after thefeast was over, just before the sun went down into itsbed on the western prairies, and "the nail" was soonsurrounded by bullets, tipped by joe blunt and jimscraggs, and of course driven home by dick varley,whose "silver rifle" had now become in its owner's handa never-failing weapon. races, too, were started, andhere again dick stood pre-eminent; and when nightspread her dark mantle over the scene, the two bestfiddlers in the settlement were placed on empty beer-casks,and some danced by the light of the monster fires,while others listened to joe blunt as he recounted theiradventures on the prairies and among the rocky mountains.
there were sweethearts, and wives, and lovers at thefeast, but we question if any heart there was so full oflove, and admiration, and gratitude, as that of thewidow varley as she watched her son dick throughoutthat merry evening.
* * * * *years rolled by, and the mustang valley prospered.
missionaries went there, and a little church was built,and to the blessings of a fertile land were added thefar greater blessings of christian light and knowledge.
one sad blow fell on the widow varley's heart. heronly brother, daniel hood, was murdered by the indians.
deeply and long she mourned, and it required all dick'sefforts and those of the pastor of the settlement tocomfort her. but from the first the widow's heart wassustained by the loving hand that dealt the blow, andwhen time blunted the keen edge of her feelings herface became as sweet and mild, though not so lightsome,as before.
joe blunt and henri became leading men in thecouncils of the mustang valley; but dick varley preferredthe woods, although, as long as his mother lived,he hovered round her cottage--going off sometimes fora day, sometimes for a week, but never longer. afterher head was laid in the dust, dick took altogether tothe woods, with crusoe and charlie, the wild horse, ashis only companions, and his mother's bible in thebreast of his hunting-shirt. and soon dick, the boldhunter, and his dog crusoe became renowned in thefrontier settlements from the banks of the yellowstoneriver to the gulf of mexico.
many a grizzly bear did the famous "silver rifle" laylow, and many a wild, exciting chase and adventure diddick go through; but during his occasional visits to themustang valley he was wont to say to joe blunt andhenri--with whom he always sojourned--that "nothin'
he ever felt or saw came up to his first grand dash overthe western prairies into the heart of the rocky mountains."and in saying this, with enthusiasm in his eyeand voice, dick invariably appealed to, and received aready affirmative glance from, his early companion andhis faithful loving friend, the dog crusoe.
