No wonder then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as the most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunches beside him and looked.

And you haven't, no, you haven't got the most distant notion of the way in which that dog manoeuvred with his head and face.

He opened his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head first a little to one side, then a little to the other.

After that he turned it a _good deal_ to one side, and then a good deal more to the other.
Then he brought it straight, and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other a little, and then both together very much.

Then, when Dick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild for a moment, and yawned vociferously.