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."