II

Jim proved to be so far recovered that he was able to hobble about a

little on three legs, the fourth being skilfully bandaged so that he

could not put his foot to the ground. It was obvious, however, that he

could not make a journey through the woods and be any use whatever at

the end of it. Blackstock, therefore, knocked together a handy litter

for his benefit. And with very ill grace Jim submitted to being borne

upon it.

Some twenty paces from that solitary boot-print which marked the end of

Black Dan's trail, Jim was set free from his litter and his attention

directed to a bruised tuft of moss.

"Seek him," said Blackstock.

The dog gave one sniff, and then with a growl of anger the hair lifted

along his back, and he limped forward hurriedly.

"He's got it in for Black Dan _now_," remarked MacDonald. And the

whole party followed with hopeful expectation, so great was their faith

in Jim's sagacity.

The dog, in his haste, overshot the end of the trail. He stopped

abruptly, whined, sniffed about, and came back to the deep boot-print.

All about it he circled, whimpering with impatience, but never going

more than a dozen feet away from it. Then he returned, sniffed long

and earnestly, and stood over it with drooping tail, evidently quite

nonplussed.

"He don't appear to make no more of it than you did, Tug," said Long

Jackson, much disappointed.

"Oh, give him time, Long," retorted Blackstock. Then----

"Seek him! Seek him, good boy," he repeated, waving Jim to the front.

Running with amazing briskness on his three sound legs, the dog began

to quarter the undergrowth in ever-widening half-circles, while the men

stood waiting and watching. At last, at a distance of several hundred

yards, he gave a yelp and a growl, and sprang forward.

"Got it!" exclaimed Big Andy.

"Guess it's only the trail o' that there b'ar he's struck," suggested

Jackson pessimistically.

"Jim, stop!" ordered Blackstock. And the dog stood rigid in his tracks

while Blackstock hastened forward to see what he had found.

"Sure enough. It's only the bear," cried Blackstock, investigating the

great footprint over which Jim was standing. "Come along back here,

Jim, an' don't go foolin' away yer time over a bear, jest _now_."

The dog sniffed at the trail, gave another hostile growl, and

reluctantly followed his master back. Blackstock made him smell the

boot-print again. Then he said with emphasis, "_Black Dan_, Jim, it's

_Black Dan_ we're wantin'. Seek him, boy. _Fetch him_."

Jim started off on the same manoeuvres as before, and at the same point

as before he again gave a growl and a yelp and bounded forward.

"_Jim_," shouted the Deputy angrily, "come back here."

The dog came limping back, looking puzzled.

"What do you mean by that foolin'?" went on his master severely.

"What's bears to you? Smell that!" and he pointed again to the

boot-print. "It's _Black Dan_ you're after."

Jim hung upon his words, but looked hopelessly at sea as to his

meaning. He turned and gazed wistfully in the direction of the bear's

trail. He seemed on the point of starting out for it again, but the

tone of Blackstock's rebuke withheld him. Finally, he sat down upon

his dejected tail and stared upwards into a great tree, one of whose

lower branches stretched directly over his head.

Blackstock followed his gaze. The tree was an ancient rock maple, its

branches large but comparatively few in number. Blackstock could see

clear to its top. It was obvious that the tree could afford no

hiding-place to anything larger than a wild-cat. Nevertheless, as

Blackstock studied it, a gleam of sudden insight passed over his face.

"Jim 'pears to think Black Dan's gone to Heaven," remarked Saunders

drily.

"Ye can't always tell _what_ Jim's thinkin'," retorted Blackstock.

"But I'll bet it's a clever idea he's got in his black head, whatever

it is."

He scanned the tree anew and the other trees nearest whose branches

interlaced with it. Then, with a sharp "Come on, Jim," he started

towards the knoll, eyeing the branches overhead as he went. The rest

of the party followed at a discreet distance.

Crippled as he was, Jim could not climb the steep face of the knoll,

but his master helped him up. The instant he entered the cave he

growled savagely, and once more the stiff hair rose along his back.

Blackstock watched in silence for a moment. He had never before

noticed, on Jim's part, any special hostility toward bears, whom he was

quite accustomed to trailing. He glanced up at the big branch that

overhung the entrance, and conviction settled on his face. Then he

whispered, sharply, "Seek him, Jim." And Jim set off at once, as fast

as he could limp, along the trail of the bear.

"Come on, boys," called Blackstock to his posse. "Ef we can't find

Black Dan we may as well hev a little bear-hunt to fill in the time.

Jim appears to hev a partic'lar grudge agin that bear."

The men closed up eagerly, expecting to find that Blackstock, with

Jim's help, had at last discovered some real signs of Black Dan. When

they saw that there was still nothing more than that old bear's trail,

which they had already examined, Long Jackson began to grumble.

"We kin hunt bear any day," he growled.

"I guess Tug ain't no keener after bear this day than you be,"

commented MacDonald. "He's got _somethin'_ up his sleeve, you see!"

"Mebbe it's a tame b'ar, a _trained_ b'ar, an' Black Dan's a-ridin' him

horseback," suggested Big Andy.

Blackstock, who was close at Jim's heels, a few paces ahead of the

rest, turned with one of his rare, ruminative laughs.

"That's quite an idea of yours, Andy," he remarked, stooping to examine

one of those great clawed footprints in a patch of soft soil.

"But even _trained_ b'ar hain't got wings," commented MacDonald again.

"An' there's a good three hundred yards atween the spot where Black

Dan's trail peters out an' the nearest b'ar track. I guess yer

interestin' hipotheesis don't quite fill the bill--eh, Andy?"

"Anyways," protested the big Oromocto man, "ye'll all notice one thing

queer about this here b'ar track. It goes _straight_. Mostly a b'ar

will go wanderin' off this way an' that, to nose at an old root, er

grub up a bed o' toadstools. But _this_ b'ar keeps right on, as ef he

had important business somewhere straight ahead. That's just the way

he'd go ef some one _was_ a-ridin' him horseback."

Andy had advanced his proposition as a joke, but now he was inclined to

take it seriously and to defend it with warmth.

"Well," said Long Jackson, "we'll all chip in, when we git our money

back, an' buy ye a bear, Andy, an' ye shall ride it up every day from

the mills to the post office. It'll save ye quite a few minutes in

gittin' to the post office. It don't matter about yer gittin' away."

The big Oromocto lad blushed, but laughed good-naturedly. He was so

much in love with the little widow who kept the post office that

nothing pleased him more than to be teased about her.

For the Deputy's trained eyes, as for Jim's trained nose, that

bear-track was an easy one to follow. Nevertheless, progress was slow,

for Blackstock would halt from time to time to interrogate some

claw-print with special minuteness, and from time to time Jim would

stop to lie down and lick gingerly at his bandage, tormented by the

aching of his wound.

Late in the afternoon, when the level shadows were black upon the trail

and the trailing had come to depend entirely on Jim's nose, Blackstock

called a halt on the banks of a small brook and all sat down to eat

their bread and cheese. Then they sprawled about, smoking, for the

Deputy, apparently regarding the chase as a long one, was now in no

great hurry. Jim lay on the wet sand, close to the brook's edge, while

Blackstock, scooping up the water in double handfuls, let it fall in an

icy stream on the dog's bandaged leg.

"Hev ye got any reel idee to come an' go on, Tug?" demanded Long

Jackson at last, blowing a long, slow jet of smoke from his lips, and

watching it spiral upwards across a bar of light just over his head.

"I hev," said Blackstock.

"An' air ye sure it's a good one--good enough to drag us 'way out here

on?" persisted Jackson.

"I'm bankin' on it," answered Blackstock.

"An' so's Jim, I'm thinkin'," suggested MacDonald, tentatively.

"Jim's idee an' mine ain't the same, exackly," vouchsafed Blackstock,

after a pause, "but I guess they'll come to the same thing in the end.

They're fittin' in with each other fine, so fur!"

"What'll ye bet that ye're not mistaken, the both o' yez?" demanded

Jackson.

"Yer wages fur the whole summer!" answered Blackstock promptly.

Long looked satisfied. He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and

proceeded to refill it.

"Oh, ef ye're so sure as that, Tug," he drawled, "I guess I ain't

takin' any this time."

For a couple of hours after sunset the party continued to follow the

trail, depending now entirely upon Jim's leadership. The dog, revived

by his rest and his master's cold-water treatment, limped forward at a

good pace, growling from time to time as a fresh pang in his wound

reminded him anew of his enemy.

"How Jim 'pears to hate that bear!" remarked Big Andy once.

"He does _that_!" agreed Blackstock. "An' he's goin' to git his own

back, too, I'm thinkin', afore long."

Presently the moon rose round and yellow through the tree-tops, and the

going became less laborious. Jim seemed untiring now. He pressed on

so eagerly that Blackstock concluded the object of his vindictive

pursuit, whatever it was, must be now not far ahead.

Another hour, and the party came out suddenly upon the bank of a small

pond. Jim, his nose to earth, started to lead the way around it,

towards the left. But Blackstock stopped him, and halted his party in

the dense shadows.

The opposite shore was in the full glare of the moonlight. There,

close to the water's edge, stood a little log hut, every detail of it

standing out as clearly as in daylight. It was obviously old, but the

roof had been repaired with new bark and poles and the door was shut,

instead of sagging half open on broken hinges after the fashion of the

doors of deserted cabins.

Blackstock slipped a leash from his pocket and clipped it onto Jim's

collar.

"I'm thinkin', boys, we'll git some information yonder about that bear,

ef we go the right way about inquirin'. Now, Saunders, you go round

the pond to the right and steal up alongshore, through the bushes, to

within forty paces of the hut. You, Mac, an' Big Andy, you two go

round same way, but git well back into the timber, and come up _behind_

the hut to within about the same distance. There'll be a winder on

that side, likely.

"When ye're in position give the call o' the big horned owl, not too

loud. An' when I answer with the same call twice, then close in. But

keep a good-sized tree atween you an' the winder, for ye never know

what a bear kin do when he's trained. I'll bet Big Andy's seen bears

that could shoulder a gun like a man! So look out for yourselves.

Long an' Jim an' me, we'll follow the trail o' the bear right round

this end o' the pond--an' ef I'm not mistaken it'll lead us right up to

the door o' that there hut. Some bears hev a taste in regard to where

they sleep."

As noiselessly as shadows the party melted away in opposite directions.

The pond lay smooth as glass under the flooding moonlight, reflecting a

pale star or two where the moon-path grudgingly gave it space.

After some fifteen minutes a lazy, muffled hooting floated across the

pond. Five minutes later the same call, the very voice of the

wilderness at midnight, came from the deep of the woods behind the hut.

Blackstock, with Jackson close behind him and Jim pulling eagerly on

the leash, was now within twenty yards of the hut door, but hidden

behind a thick young fir tree. He breathed the call of the horned

owl--a mellow, musical call, which nevertheless brings terror to all

the small creatures of the wilderness--and then, after a pause,

repeated it softly.

He waited for a couple of minutes motionless. His keen ears caught the

snapping of a twig close behind the hut.

"Big Andy's big feet that time," he muttered to himself. "That boy'll

never be much good on the trail."

Then, leaving Jim to the care of Jackson, he slipped forward to another

and bigger tree not more than a dozen paces from the cabin. Standing

close in the shadow of the trunk, and drawing his revolver, he called

sharply as a gun-shot--"Dan Black."

Instantly there was a thud within the hut as of some one leaping from a

bunk.

"Dan Black," repeated the Deputy, "the game's up. I've got ye

surrounded. Will ye come out quietly an' give yerself up, or do ye

want trouble?"

"Waal, no, I guess I don't want no more trouble," drawled a cool voice

from within the hut. "I guess I've got enough o' my own already. I'll

come out, Tug."

The door was flung open, and Black Dan, with his hands held up, stalked

forth into the moonlight.

[Illustration: "The door was flung open, and Black Dan, with his hands

held up, stalked forth into the moonlight."]

With a roar Jim sprang out from behind the fir tree, dragging Long

Jackson with him by the sudden violence of his rush.

"Down, Jim, _down_!" ordered Blackstock. "Lay down an' shut up." And

Jim, grumbling in his throat, allowed Jackson to pull him back by the

collar.

Blackstock advanced and clicked the handcuffs on to Black Dan's wrists.

Then he took the revolver and knife from the prisoner's belt, and

motioned him back into the hut.

"Bein' pretty late now," said Blackstock, "I guess we'll accept yer

hospitality for the rest o' the night."

"Right ye are, Tug," assented Dan. "Ye'll find tea an' merlasses, an'

a bite o' bacon in the cupboard yonder."

As the rest of the party came in Black Dan nodded to them cordially, a

greeting which they returned with more or less sheepish grins.

"Excuse me ef I don't shake hands with ye, boys," said he, "but Tug

here says the state o' me health makes it bad for me to use me arms."

And he held up the handcuffs.

"No apologies needed," said MacDonald.

Last of all came in Long Jackson, with Jim. Blackstock slipped the

leash, and the dog lay down in a corner, as far from the prisoner as he

could get.

In a few minutes the whole party were sitting about the tiny stove,

drinking boiled tea and munching crackers and molasses--the prisoner

joining in the feast as well as his manacled hands would permit. At

length, with his mouth full of cracker, the Deputy remarked:

"That was clever of ye, Dan--durn' clever. I didn't know it was in ye."

"Not half so clever as you seein' through it the way you did, Tug,"

responded the prisoner handsomely.

"But darned ef _I_ see through it _now_," protested Big Andy in a

plaintive voice. "It's just about as clear as mud to _me_. Where's

your wings, Dan? An' where in tarnation is that b'ar?"

The prisoner laughed triumphantly. Long Jackson and the others looked

relieved, the Oromocto man having propounded the question which they

had been ashamed to ask.

"It's jest this way," explained Blackstock. "When we'd puzzled Jim

yonder--an' he was puzzled at us bein' such fools--ye'll recollect he

sat down on his tail by that boot-print, an' tried to work out what we

wanted of him. I was tellin' him to seek Black Dan, an' yet I was

callin' him back off that there bear-track. _He_ could smell Black Dan

in the bear-track, but we couldn't. So we was doin' the best we could

to mix him up.

"Well, he looked up into the big maple overhead. Then I saw where

Black Dan had gone to. He'd jumped (that's why the boot-print was so

heavy), an' caught that there branch, an' swung himself up into the

tree. Then he worked his way along from tree to tree till he come to

the cave. I saw by the way Jim took on in the cave that Black Dan had

been _there_ all right. For Jim hain't got no special grudge agin

bear. Says I to myself, ef Jim smells Black Dan in that bear trail,

then Black Dan must _be_ in it, that's all!

"Then it comes over me that I'd once seen a big bear-skin in Dan's room

at the Mills, an' as the picture of it come up agin in my mind, I

noticed how the fore-paws and legs of it were missin'. With that I

looked agin at the trail, as we went along Jim an' me. An' sure

enough, in all them tracks there wasn't one print of a hind-paw. _They

were all fore-paws_. Smart, very smart o' Dan, says I to myself.

Let's see them ingenious socks o' yours, Dan."

"They're in the top bunk yonder," said Black Dan, with a weary air.

"An' my belt and pouch, containin' the other stuff, that's all in the

bunk, too. I may's well save ye the trouble o' lookin' for it, as ye'd

find it anyways. I was _sure_ ye'd never succeed in trackin' me down,

so I didn't bother to hide it. An' I see now ye _wouldn't_ 'a' got me,

Tug, ef it hadn't 'a' been fer Jim. That's where I made the mistake o'

my life, not stoppin' to make sure I'd done Jim up."

"No, Dan," said Blackstock, "ye're wrong there. Ef you'd done Jim up

I'd have caught ye jest the same, in the long run, fer I'd never have

quit the trail till I _did_ git ye. An' when I got ye--well, I'd hev

forgot myself, mebbe, an' only remembered that ye'd killed my best

friend. Ef ye'd had as many lives as a cat, Dan, they wouldn't hev

been enough to pay fer that dawg."