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 l.u.s.tily, 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 s.p.a.ce, 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.
CHAPTER XXIX.
"HELP! HELP!"
The belief that they were close upon the bear threw the boys into a flutter of excitement, and they walked slowly as they approached the tree, up which the hound was barking.
As has been stated, it was what was known as the red oak, very large, with branching limbs at no great distance from the ground.
"_I see him!--I see him!_" whispered Herbert, just as he caught his foot in a root and pitched forward.
"Where?"
Herbert picked up his hat, muttered something impatient, and then looked upward again, and found he was mistaken.
"I thought that big knot up there was the bear," replied the city youth, in meeker tones.
The boys slowly circled about the tree again and again, back and forth, scrutinizing trunk, limbs, and twigs so closely that a cat could not have concealed itself from view.
The result was disheartening: there was no bear in sight.
"May be the trunk is hollow," suggested Sam, "and he has gone into a hole."
They struck against the bark, but the sound showed that the wood beneath was solid. Besides, an examination of the bark itself failed to bring to view the scratching and abrasion that would have been made by a bear in going up, and especially in coming down, the trunk.
Bowser, beyond all question, had been "barking up the wrong tree."
"You"re a pretty hunting dog, ain"t you?" sneered Sam Harper, addressing the canine; "come here, that I may give you another switching."
But Bowser wheeled about, and, taking the trail again, trotted to the southward, his nose close to the ground, while he bayed at intervals of a few seconds.
"The bear ain"t far off, you can make up your mind to that," said Herbert, still all excitement; "if we keep close to the dog, we"ll run upon the other pretty soon."
In fact, the youthful Watrous showed such an interest in the sport that he forgot the danger which always accompanies it. Had he stopped a minute or so to reflect, he would have seen that now was the time for the three to stick together, for never was there likely to be an occasion which would demonstrate more certainly that in union there is strength.
Forgetful of this, Herbert sped forward so fast that in a brief while he vanished from view.
Nick shouted to him not to hasten so fast, but the young gentleman was not to be checked in that style, and he kept up his flight with undiminished speed.
"Let him go, then," said Nick, dropping down to a rapid walk, in which Sam joined him; "his legs are so long that he can outrun us both."
"Which is a good thing."
"Why so?"
"As soon as he catches sight of the bear, he will turn about and run with might and main."
"I"m not so sure of that," remarked Nick, who began to think there was more in Herbert than they had suspected.
"He is so anxious to get the animal that he doesn"t know the risk he is running. The fight you had with the buck yesterday shows what a more harmless animal will do when he turns to fight the hunter."
"But Herbert will be likely to wait till we come up to him if he sees the bear."
"There"s no telling what such a fellow will do when he loses his head; the only chance for him is that we may be so close that we can turn in and help him."
"Then we had better hurry."