So the yellow cur was put on the track, and led away with funny little
yelps, while the two hunters came stumbling along behind him as fast
as they could, calling, at times, to the dog not to go so fast, and
thus making a good deal of noise, which Gringo Jack heard a mile away
as he ambled along the mountain-side above them. He was following his
nose to many good and eatable things, and therefore going up-wind.
This noise behind was so peculiar that he wanted to smell it, and to
do that he swung along back over the clamor, then descended to the
down-wind side, and thus he came on the trail of the hunters and their
dog.

His nose informed him at once. Here was the hunter he once felt kindly
toward and two other smells of far-back--both hateful; all three were
now the smell-marks of foes, and a rumbling "woof" was the expressive
sound that came from his throat.

That dog-smell in particular roused him, though it is very sure he had
forgotten all about the dog, and Gringo's feet went swiftly and
silently, yes, with marvelous silence, along the tracks of the enemy.

On rough, rocky ground a dog is scarcely quicker than a Bear, and
since the dog was constantly held back by the hunters the Bear had no
difficulty in overtaking them. Only a hundred yards or so behind he
continued, partly in curiosity, pursuing the dog that was pursuing
him, till a shift of the wind brought the dog a smell-call from the
Bear behind. He wheeled--of course you never follow trail smell when
you can find body smell--and came galloping back with a different
yapping and a bristling in his mane.