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Updated: May 26, 2025
'Who can make plans with a Government in power pledged to every sort of villainy and public plunder? said the old man testily. 'I suppose Varley's there to-night, helping to vote away my property and Fauntleroy's. 'Some of his own too, if you please! said Lady Helen smiling. 'Yes, I suppose he is waiting for the division, or he would be here.
'Who can make plans with a Government in power pledged to every sort of villainy and public plunder? said the old man testily. 'I suppose Varley's there to-night, helping to vote away my property and Fauntleroy's. 'Some of his own, too, if you please!, said Lady Helen, smiling. 'Yes, I suppose he is waiting for the division, or he would be here.
Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by great and small among the well-disposed of the canine tribe of the Mustang Valley. But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not actively engaged in Dick Varley's service, he busied himself with private little matters of his own.
They rushed upon her, together with the two Varleys, who wanted to take them home to tea; and Gillian giving her ready consent, Fergus dashed home to fetch his beloved humming-top, which was to be introduced to Clement Varley's pump, and in a few minutes they were off, hardly vouchsafing an answer to such comparatively trifling inquiries as how they were placed at their schools.
Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized the end of it and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian camp, never halting or turning aside until he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand. "Hallo, pup! where have ye bin. How did ye bring him here?" exclaimed Dick, as he gazed in amazement at his foam-covered horse.
The priest looked thoughtfully out of the window; Finden's eyes were screwed up in a questioning way, but neither made any response to Varley's remarks. There was a long minute's silence. They were all three roused by hearing a light footstep on the veranda. Father Bourassa put down his glass and hastened into the hallway.
"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of the men, "there goes Dick Varley's horse." "So it am!" cried Henri, and dashed off in pursuit, followed by Joe and two others. "Why, these are our own horses," said Cameron in surprise, as they drove them into a corner of the hills from which they could not escape.
Varley's heart beat high, and her face flushed with pride as she gazed at her son, who laid the rifle on the table for her inspection, while he rattled off an animated and somewhat disjointed account of the match. "Deary me! now that was good, that was cliver. But what's that scraping at the door?" "Oh! that's Fan; I forgot her. Here! here! Fan!
Young Varley's enthusiasm was considerably damped when he learned the errand on which the trappers were bent. From that time forward he gave up all desire to visit the mountains in company with such men, but he still retained an intense longing to roam at large among their rocky fastnesses, and gallop out upon the wide prairies.
Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized the end of it, and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian camp, never halting or turning aside until he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand. "Hallo, pup! where have ye bin? How did ye bring him here?" exclaimed Dick, as he gazed in amazement at his foam-covered horse.
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