One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe’s eye, and in a moment he was away at full gallop, nor did he rest until the lost article was lying at his master’s feet.  Dick was loath to try how far back on his track Crusoe would run if desired.  He had often gone back five and six miles at a stretch; but his powers did not stop here.  He could carry articles back to the spot from which they had been taken and leave them there.  He could head the game that his master was pursuing and turn it back; and he would guard any object he was desired to “watch” with unflinching constancy.  But it would occupy too much space and time to enumerate all Crusoe’s qualities and powers.  His biography will unfold them.

In personal appearance he was majestic, having grown to an immense size even for a Newfoundland.  Had his visage been at all wolfish in character, his aspect would have been terrible.  But he possessed in an eminent degree that mild, humble expression of face peculiar to his race.  When roused or excited, and especially when bounding through the forest with the chase in view, he was absolutely magnificent.  At other times his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quiet walk with Dick Varley to anything else under the sun.  But when Dick was inclined to be boisterous, Crusoe’s tail and ears rose at a moment’s notice, and he was ready for anything.  Moreover, he obeyed commands instantly and implicitly.  In this respect he put to shame most of the boys of the settlement, who were by no means famed for their habits of prompt obedience.

Crusoe’s eye was constantly watching the face of his master.  When Dick said “Go” he went, when he said “Come” he came.  If he had been in the midst of an excited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick had called out, “Down, Crusoe,” he would have sunk to the earth like a stone.  No doubt it took many months of training to bring the dog to this state of perfection, but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, and love.

Besides all this, Crusoe could speak!  He spoke by means of the dog’s dumb alphabet in a way that defies description.  He conversed, so to speak, with his extremities—­his head and his tail.  But his eyes, his soft brown eyes, were the chief medium of communication.  If ever the language of the eyes was carried to perfection, it was exhibited in the person of Crusoe.  But, indeed, it would be difficult to say which part of his expressive face expressed most—­the cocked ears of expectation, the drooped ears of sorrow; the bright, full eye of joy, the half-closed eye of contentment, and the frowning eye of indignation accompanied with a slight, a very slight pucker of the nose and a gleam of dazzling ivory—­ha! no enemy ever saw this last piece of canine language without a full appreciation of what it meant.  Then as to the tail—­the modulations of meaning in the varied wag of that expressive member—­oh! it’s useless to attempt description.  Mortal man cannot conceive of the delicate shades of sentiment expressible by a dog’s tail, unless he has studied the subject—­the wag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the wriggle!  Away with description—­it is impotent and valueless here!