THE TRAIL OF THE BEAR.
The boys did as directed, and, also stooping down, saw in the soft earth
near the water the prints of the feet of a large animal, such tracks
indeed as could have been made only by the bear.
All agreed that it was that much desired and yet dreaded animal, and
that it was more than likely he had moved to the southward, so that in
point of fact the hunters and hunted had exchanged relative positions.
Sam sternly directed the attention of Bowser to the trail, and ordered
him to "look into the matter."
The hound sniffed the ground, ran back and forth several times, and then
gazed up at his master, as if awaiting further orders.
"I won't stand any such nonsense as that," said his impatient master,
grasping him by the baggy skin at the back of the neck and giving him
several sharp blows with a switch.
Bowser yelped and kicked lustily, and, when released, placed his nose to
the ground, emitted several more cries, and then trotted off, taking a
direction leading almost directly back over the path Herbert had
followed the day before.
"He's on the trail _this_ time," said Sam, with restored admiration for
the hound, "and if he does well, I'll consider him a great deal better
hunting dog than he has shown himself yet."
In fact, Bowser acted as if anxious to redeem his tainted reputation,
and, trotting quite briskly, was soon out of sight among the trees, the
lads hurrying after him.
A few minutes later, the yelping of the hound ceased, but the young
hunters kept up their pursuit, the fresh trail made by the dog being
easily followed, as he turned over and rumpled the abundant leaves on
the ground, so that it was plainly discernible.
"I wonder why he has stopped barking," said Sam.
"I guess he has got tired," was the rather original reply of Herbert,
who was ready to give information, whether reliable or not.
"Bowser seems to have a way of doing things which is different from
other dogs--hallo! there he goes again."
The resounding cries of the hound echoed through the woods, seemingly at
a distance of a half mile, and a little to the east of south.
"I guess he has treed him!" said Herbert, striking into a trot, the
others doing the same, and very much doubting whether the odd dog had
ever treed anything in his life.
A short run only was necessary, when, by stopping and listening, they
learned that the hound was standing instead of running. If he had been a
regular hunting dog, this fact would have proven that he had brought the
game to bay.
As respecting Bowser, it was uncertain what it signified.
It did not take the lads long to hurry over the intervening space, when
they came upon the hound, who was standing under a large red oak,
looking up and barking with all the vigor he possessed.
"He has treed the bear, I do believe!" exclaimed Sam Harper, breaking
ahead of the others in his excitement.
Nick Ribsam also thought the indications pointed that way.