The instantaneous wag of that speaking tail and the glance of that wakeful eye, as the dog lifted his head and laid his chin on Dick's arm, showed that he had been listening to every word that was spoken.

We cannot say whether he understood it, but beyond all doubt he heard it.

Crusoe never presumed to think of going to sleep until his master was as sound as a top, then he ventured to indulge in that light species of slumber which is familiarly known as "sleeping with one eye open." But, comparatively as well as figuratively speaking, Crusoe slept usually with one eye and a half open, and the other half was never very tightly shut.
Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, an event which the dog, with an exercise of instinct almost, if not quite, amounting to reason, regarded as a signal for him to go off.

The camp fire went slowly out, the stars twinkled down at their reflections in the brook, and a deep breathing of wearied men was the only sound that rose in harmony with the purling stream.
Before the sun rose next morning, and while many of the brighter stars were still struggling for existence with the approaching day, Joe was up and buckling on the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling companions to rise.
"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawnees wouldn't be long afore they got our scalps.

Jump, ye dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye ?" A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was the answer to this pathetic appeal.