This was too much for ordinary canine nature to withstand, so all the dogs in the neighbourhood joined in the horrible chorus.
Crusoe had long since learned to treat the eccentricities of Indians and their curs with dignified contempt.

He paid no attention to this serenade, but lay sleeping by the fire until Dick and his companions rose to take leave of their host and return to the camp of the fur-traders.

The remainder of that night was spent in making preparations for setting forth on the morrow; and when, at gray dawn, Dick and Crusoe lay down to snatch a few hours' repose, the yells and howling in the Snake camp were going on as vigorously as ever.
The sun had arisen, and his beams were just tipping the summits of the Rocky Mountains, causing the snowy peaks to glitter like flame, and the deep ravines and gorges to look sombre and mysterious by contrast, when Dick and Joe and Henri mounted their gallant steeds, and, with Crusoe gambolling before, and the two pack-horses trotting by their side, turned their faces eastward, and bade adieu to the Indian camp.
Crusoe was in great spirits.

He was perfectly well aware that he and his companions were on their way home, and testified his satisfaction by bursts of scampering over the hills and valleys.

Doubtless he thought of Dick Varley's cottage, and of Dick's mild, kind-hearted mother.