"We'll have to get up closer to where Fido is," said Don, "and the sooner we get there the better.""I suppose so," said Hughie. "I suppose I had better go. Fido will stop barking for me." So, while Don lay hid with the dogs in the brule, Hughie stole nearer and nearer to Fido, who was still chasing down toward the brule and back to the house, as if urging some one to come forth and investigate the strange scent he had discovered. Gradually Hughie worked his way closer to Fido until within calling distance.
Just as he was about to whistle for the dog, the back door opened and forth came the minister again. By this time Fido had passed into the brule a little way, and could not be seen from the house.
It was an anxious moment for Hughie. He made a sudden desperate resolve. He must secure Fido now, or else give up the chance of getting on the trail of the bear. So he left his place of hiding, and bending low, ran swiftly forward until Fido caught sight of him, and hearing his voice, came to him, barking loudly and making every demonstration of excitement and joy. He seized the dog by the collar and dragged him down, and after holding him quiet for a moment, hauled him back to Don.
"We'll have to take him with us," he said. "I'll put this string on his collar, and he'll go all right." And to this Don agreed, though very unwillingly, for he had no confidence in Fido's hunting ability.
"I tell you he's a great fighter," said Hughie, "if we should ever get near that bear.""Oh, pshaw!" said Don, "he may fight dogs well enough, but when it comes to a bear, it's a different thing. Every dog is scared of a bear the first time he sees him.""Well, I bet you Fido won't run from anything," said Hughie, confidently.
To their great relief they saw the minister set off in the opposite direction across the fields.
"Thank goodness! He's off to the McRae's," said Hughie.
"Now, then," said Don, "we'll go back to the track there, and put the dogs on. You go on with Fido." And Hughie set off with Fido pulling eagerly upon the string.
When they reached the spot where Fido had been seized by Hughie, suddenly the black dog who had been following Don at some distance, stopped short and began to growl. In a moment his mate threw up his nose and began sniffing about, the hair rising stiff upon his back.
"He's catching it," said Don, in an excited tone. "Here, you hold him. I must get the other one, or he'll be off." He was not a minute too soon, for the other dog, who had been ranging about, suddenly found the trail, and with a fierce, short bark, was about to dash off when Don threw himself upon him. In a few moments both dogs were on the leash, and set off upon the scent at a great pace.
The trail was evidently plain enough to the dogs, for they followed hard, leading the boys deeper and deeper into the bush.
"He's making for the Big Swamp," said Don, and on they went, with eyes and ears on the alert, expecting every moment to hear the snort of a bear, or to meet him on the further side of every bunch of underbrush.
For an hour they went on at a steady trot, over and under fallen logs, splashing through water holes, crashing over dead brushwood, and tearing through the interlacing boughs of the thick underbrush of spruce and balsam. The black dogs never hesitated. They knew well what was their business there, and that they kept strictly in mind. Fido, on the other hand, who loved to roam the woods in an aimless hunt for any and every wild thing that might cross his nose, but who never had seriously hunted anything in particular, trotted good-naturedly behind Hughie with rather a bored expression on his face.
The trail, which had led them steadily north, all at once turned west and away from the swamp.
"Say," said Don, "he's making for Alan Gorrach's cabin.""Man!" said Hughie, "that would be fine, to get him there. It's good and open, too.""Too open by a long way," grunted Don. "We'd never get him there."Sure enough, the dogs led up from the swamp and along the path to Alan's cabin. The door stood open, and in answer to Don's "Horo!"Alan came out.
"What now?" he said, glowering at Don.
"You won't be wanting any dogs to-day, Alan?" said Don, politely.
Alan glanced at him suspiciously, but said not a word.
"These are very good dogs, indeed, Alan.""Go on your ways, now," said Alan.
"These black ones are not in very good condition, but Fido there is a good, fat dog."Alan's wrath began to rise.
"Will you be going on, now, about your business?""Better take them, Alan, there's a hard winter coming on.""Mac an' Diabhoil!" cried Alan, in a shrill voice, suddenly bursting into fury. "I will be having your heart's blood," he cried, rushing into his cabin.
"Come on, Hughie," cried Don, and away they rushed, following the black dogs upon the trail of the bear.
Deeper and deeper into the swamp the dogs led the way, the going becoming more difficult and the underbrush thicker at every step.
After an hour or two of hard work, the dogs began to falter, and ran hither and thither, now on one scent and then on another, till tired out and disgusted, Don held them in, and threw himself down upon the soft moss that lay deep over everything.
"We're on his old tracks here," said Don, savagely, "and you can't pick out the new from the old.""His hole must be somewhere not too far away," said Hughie.
"Yes, perhaps it is, but then again it may be across the ridge. At any rate, we'll have some grub."As they ate the bannocks and cheese, they pictured to themselves what they should do if they ever should come up with the bear.
"One thing we've got to be careful of," said Don, "and that is, not to lose our heads.""That's so," assented Hughie, feeling quite cool and self-possessed at the time.
"Because if you lose your head you're done for," continued Don.
"Remember Ken McGregor?"
"No," said Hughie.
"Didn't you ever hear that? Why, he ran into a bear, and made a drive at him with his axe, but the bear, with one paw knocked the axe clear out of his hand, and with one sweep of the other tore his insides right out. They're mighty cute, too," went on Don.
