observed that Crusoe stopped and snuffed the breeze in
an anxious, inquiring manner.
"What is't, pup?" said Dick, drawing up, for he
knew that his faithful dog never gave a false alarm.
Crusoe replied by a short, uncertain bark, and then
bounding forward, disappeared behind a little wooded
knoll. In another moment a long, dismal howl floated
over the plains. There was a mystery about the dog's
conduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struck
the travellers with a superstitious feeling of dread, as