trained hunting dog. Bowser was not a pure-blooded hound; he was fat and
he was faultily trained. He had stumbled upon the trail of the buck by
accident and had plunged ahead in pursuit, until "pumped," when he
seemed to lose all interest in the sport.

He now stayed close to Sam, continually looking up in his face as if to
ask him when he was going to stop the nonsense and go back home.

He scarcely pricked his ears when the quail ran ahead of him, and paid
no attention to the whirring made by the other. He had had all he wanted
of that kind of amusement and showed no disposition to tire himself any
further.




CHAPTER XIX.

AN UNEXPECTED LESSON.


As it was the height of the hunting season, the reports of guns were
heard at varying distances through the woods, so that Sam could only
judge when they were fired by his friends from their nearness to him.

He was well satisfied that the last shot was from the Remington of
Herbert, while the one that preceded it a few minutes, he was convinced
came from the muzzle-loader of Nick Ribsam, owned by Mr. Marston.

"The boys seem to have found something too do, but I don't believe they