“Ready! ay, this hour past.”

“Mount then, lad; the men have already been told off, and are mustering down yonder where the deer gave you such a licking.”

Dick needed no second bidding.  He vaulted on Charlie’s back, and along with their commander joined the men, who were thirty as fine, hardy, reckless looking fellows as one could desire for a forlorn-hope.  They were chatting and laughing while they examined their guns and saddle-girths.  Their horses were sorry looking animals compared with the magnificent creature that Dick bestrode, but they were hardy, nevertheless, and well fitted for their peculiar work.

“My! wot a blazer!” exclaimed a trapper as Dick rode up.

“Where you git him?” inquired a half-breed.

“I caught him,” answered Dick.

“Baw!” cried the first speaker.

Dick took no notice of this last remark.

“No, did ye though?” he asked again.

“I did,” answered Dick quietly.  “I creased him in the prairie; you can see the mark on his neck if you look.”

The men began to feel that the young hunter was perhaps a little beyond them at their own trade, and regarded him with increased respect.

“Look sharp now, lads,” said Cameron, impatiently, to several dilatory members of the band.  “Night will be on us ere long.”

“Who sold ye the bear-claw collar?” inquired another man of Dick.

“I didn’t buy it.  I killed the bear and made it.”

“Did ye, though, all be yer lone?”

“Ay; that wasn’t much, was it?”

“You’ve begun well, yonker,” said a tall, middle-aged hunter, whose general appearance was not unlike that of Joe Blunt.  “Jest keep clear o’ the Injuns an’ the grog bottle, an’ ye’ve a glor’ous life before ye.”

At this point the conversation was interrupted by the order being given to move on, which was obeyed in silence, and the cavalcade, descending the valley, entered one of the gorges in the mountains.

For the first half-mile Cameron rode a little ahead of his men, then he turned to speak to one of them, and for the first time observed Crusoe trotting close beside his master’s horse.

“Ah!  Master Dick,” he exclaimed with a troubled expression, “that won’t do.  It would never do to take a dog on an expedition like this.”

“Why not?” asked Dick; “the pup’s quiet and peaceable.”

“I doubt it not; but he will betray our presence to the Indians, which might be inconvenient.”

“I have travelled more than a thousand miles through prairie and forest, among game an’ among Injuns, an’ the pup never betrayed me yet,” said Dick, with suppressed vehemence.  “He has saved my life more than once though.”

“You seem to have perfect confidence in your dog, but as this is a serious matter you must not expect me to share in it without proof of his trustworthiness.”

“The pup may be useful to us; how would you have it proved?” inquired Dick.