At last it was reached, and Crusoe came out with great demonstrations of joy, but was sent back lest he should alarm the horse. Then Dick jumped off his back, stroked his head, put his cheek close to his mouth, and whispered softly to him, after which he fastened him to a tree and rubbed him down slightly with a bunch of grass. Having done this, he left him to graze as far as his tether would permit, and, after supping with Crusoe, lay down to rest, not a little elated with his success in this first attempt at “creasing” and “breaking” a mustang.
Chapter Sixteen.
Dick becomes a horse tamer—Resumes his journey—Charlie’s doings—Misfortunes which lead to, but do not terminate in, the Rocky Mountains—A grizzly bear.
There is a proverb—or a saying—or at least somebody or book has told us, that some Irishman once said—“Be aisy, or, if ye can’t be aisy, be as aisy as ye can.”
Now, we count that good advice, and strongly recommend it to all and sundry. Had we been at the side of Dick Varley on the night after his taming of the wild horse, we would have strongly urged that advice upon him. Whether he would have listened to it or not is quite another question—we rather think not. Reader, if you wish to know why, go and do what he did, and if you feel no curious sensations about the region of the loins after it, we will tell you why Dick Varley wouldn’t have listened to that advice. Can a man feel as if his joints were wrenched out of their sockets, and listen to advice—be that advice good or bad? Can he feel as though these joints were trying to re-set and re-dislocate themselves perpetually—and listen to advice? Can he feel as if he were sitting down on red-hot iron, when he’s not sitting down at all—and listen to advice? Can he—but no! why pursue the subject? Poor Dick spent that night in misery, and the greater part of the following day in sleep, to make up for it.
When he got up to breakfast in the afternoon, he felt much better, but shaky.
“Now, pup,” he said, stretching himself, “we’ll go and see our horse. Ours, pup; yours and mine: didn’t you help to catch him, eh! pup?”
Crusoe acknowledged the fact with a wag, and a playful “bow-wow-wow-oo-ow!” and followed his master to the place where the horse had been picketted. It was standing there quite quiet, but looking a little timid.