dog slumbered. The little Bear kept very quiet for a while, then, as
his twinkling brown eyes came back to that hateful dog, that he could
neither catch nor get away from, an idea seemed to grow in his small
brain. He began to move slowly and silently down the branch until he
was over the foe, slumbering, twitching his limbs, and making little
sounds that told of dreams of the chase, or, more likely, dreams of
tormenting a helpless Bear cub. Of course, Jack knew nothing of that.
His one thought, doubtless, was that he hated that cur and now he
could vent his hate. He came just over the tyrant, and taking careful
aim, he jumped and landed squarely on the dog's ribs. It was a
terribly rude awakening, but the dog gave no yelp, for the good reason
that the breath was knocked out of his body. No bones were broken,
though he was barely able to drag himself away in silent defeat, while
Jacky played a lively tune on his rear with paws that were fringed
with meat-hooks.

Evidently it was a most excellent plan; and when the dog came around
after that, or when Jack went to Bonamy's with his master, as he soon
again ventured to do, he would scheme with more or less success to
"get the drop on the purp," as the men put it. The dog now rapidly
lost interest in Bear-baiting, and in a short time it was a forgotten
sport.



IV. THE STREAM THAT SANK IN THE SAND


Jack was funny; Jill was sulky. Jack was petted and given freedom, so
grew funnier; Jill was beaten and chained, so grew sulkier. She had a