The noble Newfoundland did not require to be told what to do.  It seems a natural instinct in this sagacious species of dog to save man or beast that chances to be struggling in the water, and many are the authentic stories related of Newfoundland dogs saving life in cases of shipwreck.  Indeed, they are regularly trained to the work in some countries; and nobly, fearlessly, disinterestedly do they discharge their trust, often in the midst of appalling dangers.  Crusoe sprang from the bank with such impetus that his broad chest ploughed up the water like the bow of a boat, and the energetic workings of his muscles were indicated by the force of each successive propulsion as he shot ahead.

In a few seconds he reached the child and caught it by the hair.  Then he turned to swim back, but the stream had got hold of him.  Bravely he struggled, and lifted the child breast-high out of the water in his powerful efforts to stem the current.  In vain.  Each moment he was carried inch by inch down until he was on the brink of the fall, which, though not high, was a large body of water and fell with a heavy roar.  He raised himself high out of the stream with the vigour of his last struggle, and then fell back into the abyss.

By this time the poor mother was in a canoe as close to the fall as she could with safety approach, and the little bark danced like a cockle-shell on the turmoil of waters as she stood with uplifted paddle and staring eyeballs awaiting the rising of the child.

Crusoe came up almost instantly, but alone, for the dash over the fall had wrenched the child from his teeth.  He raised himself high up, and looked anxiously round for a moment.  Then he caught sight of a little hand raised above the boiling flood.  In one moment he had the child again by the hair, and just as the prow of the Indian woman’s canoe touched the shore he brought the child to land.

Springing towards him, the mother snatched her child from the flood, and gazed at its death-like face with eyeballs starting from their sockets.  Then she laid her cheek on its cold breast, and stood like a statue of despair.  There was one slight pulsation of the heart and a gentle motion of the hand!  The child still lived.  Opening up her blanket she laid her little one against her naked, warm bosom, drew the covering close around it, and sitting down on the bank wept aloud for joy.

“Come—­come ’way quick,” cried Henri, hurrying off to hide the emotion which he could not crush down.

“Ay, she don’t need our help now,” said Joe, following his comrade.

As for Crusoe, he walked along by his master’s side with his usual quiet, serene look of good-will towards all mankind.  Doubtless a feeling of gladness at having saved a human life filled his shaggy breast, for he wagged his tail gently after each shake of his dripping sides; but his meek eyes were downcast, save when raised to receive the welcome and unusually fervent caress.  Crusoe did not know that those three men loved him as though he had been a brother.