It fell to the earth with a deep groan.
Crusoe's rage instantly vanished on beholding this, and he seemed to be filled with tumultuous joy at his master's escape, for he gambolled round him, and whined and fawned upon him in a manner that could not be misunderstood.
"Good dog; thank'ee, my pup," said Dick, patting Crusoe's head as he stooped to brush the dust from his leggings.

"I don't know what would ha' become o' me but for your help, Crusoe." Crusoe turned his head a little to one side, wagged his tail, and looked at Dick with an expression that said quite plainly, "I'd die for you, I would--not once, or twice, but ten times, fifty times if need be--and that not merely to save your life, but even to please you." There is no doubt whatever that Crusoe felt something of this sort.
The love of a Newfoundland dog to its master is beyond calculation or expression.

He who once gains such love carries the dog's life in his hand.

But let him who reads note well, and remember that there is only one coin that can purchase such love, and that is _kindness_.

The coin, too, must be genuine.