He was absolutely fearless, but as loving and gentle as he was brave.

He understood every word spoken within his hearing, and his master declared that for his wisdom he ought to be named "Solomon." He never made an unprovoked assault upon a living creature, and would stand any amount of abuse from children or those weaker than himself.
Let an indignity be offered to his beloved master in his presence, though, and his fury was as terrible as that of a young lion.

Then woe to the unfortunate in whose flesh those gleaming teeth were once fastened.

From the vise-like grip of the powerful jaws behind them nothing but death or Billy Brackett's command could effect a release.
Such were the occupants of the skiff that soon after dusk shot out from the mouth of the Caspar Creek on the broad bosom of the great river.
Billy Brackett talked to his dog as he would to a human companion, and at that moment he was saying: "Look here, Bim, I've a great mind to play a joke on that young nephew of ours when we find him.

You see, he won't know us from Adam, and probably doesn't remember that he has an Uncle William in the world.
Now what is to hinder us from working the stranger racket on him?
Wrecked, or broke, or something, and want to earn a passage down the river on a raft, it being easier as well as more sociable and pleasanter in every way than a steamboat.