Glengarry Schooldays [57]
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. "They'll pretend to be almost dead just to coax you near enough, and then they'll spin round on their hind legs like a rooster. If they ever do catch you, the only thing to do is to lie still and make believe you're dead, and then, unless they're very hungry, they won't hurt you much."
After half an hour's rest, the hunting instinct awoke again within them, and the boys determined to make another attempt. After circling about the swamp for some time, the boys came upon a beaten track which led straight through the heart of the swamp.
"I say," said Don, "this is going to strike the ridge somewhere just about there," pointing northeast, "and if we don't see anything between here and the ridge, we'll strike home that way. It'll be better walking than this cursed swamp, anyway. Are you tired?"
Hughie refused to acknowledge any weariness.
"Well, then, I am," said Don.
The trail was clear enough, and they were able to follow at a good pace, so that in a few minutes, as they had expected, they struck the northeast end of the swamp. Here again they called a halt, and tying up the dogs, lay down upon the dry, brown leaves, lazily eating the beechnuts and discussing their prospects of meeting the bear, and their plans for dealing with him.
"Well, let's go on," at length said Don. "There's just a chance of our meeting him on this ridge. He's got a den somewhere down in the swamp, and he may be coming home this way. Besides, it'll take us all our time, now, to get home before dark. I guess there's no use keeping the dogs any longer. We'll just let them go." So saying, Don let the black dogs go free, but after a little skirmishing through the open beech woods, the dogs appeared to lose all interest in the expedition, and kept close to Don's heels.
Fido, on the other hand, followed, ranging the woods on either side, cheerfully interested in scaring up rabbits, ground-hogs, and squirrels. He had never known the rapture of bringing down big game, and so was content with whatever came his way.
At length the hunters reached the main trail where their paths separated; but a little of the swamp still remained, and on the other side was the open clearing.
"This is your best way," said Don, pointing out the path to Hughie. "We had bad luck to-day, but we'll try again. We may meet him still, you know, so don't fire at any squirrel or anything. If I hear a shot I'll come to you, and you do the same by me."
"I say," said Hughie, "where does this track of mine come out? Is it below the Deepole there, or is it on the other side of the clearing?"
"Why, don't you know?" said Don. "This runs right up to the back
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. "They'll pretend to be almost dead just to coax you near enough, and then they'll spin round on their hind legs like a rooster. If they ever do catch you, the only thing to do is to lie still and make believe you're dead, and then, unless they're very hungry, they won't hurt you much."
After half an hour's rest, the hunting instinct awoke again within them, and the boys determined to make another attempt. After circling about the swamp for some time, the boys came upon a beaten track which led straight through the heart of the swamp.
"I say," said Don, "this is going to strike the ridge somewhere just about there," pointing northeast, "and if we don't see anything between here and the ridge, we'll strike home that way. It'll be better walking than this cursed swamp, anyway. Are you tired?"
Hughie refused to acknowledge any weariness.
"Well, then, I am," said Don.
The trail was clear enough, and they were able to follow at a good pace, so that in a few minutes, as they had expected, they struck the northeast end of the swamp. Here again they called a halt, and tying up the dogs, lay down upon the dry, brown leaves, lazily eating the beechnuts and discussing their prospects of meeting the bear, and their plans for dealing with him.
"Well, let's go on," at length said Don. "There's just a chance of our meeting him on this ridge. He's got a den somewhere down in the swamp, and he may be coming home this way. Besides, it'll take us all our time, now, to get home before dark. I guess there's no use keeping the dogs any longer. We'll just let them go." So saying, Don let the black dogs go free, but after a little skirmishing through the open beech woods, the dogs appeared to lose all interest in the expedition, and kept close to Don's heels.
Fido, on the other hand, followed, ranging the woods on either side, cheerfully interested in scaring up rabbits, ground-hogs, and squirrels. He had never known the rapture of bringing down big game, and so was content with whatever came his way.
At length the hunters reached the main trail where their paths separated; but a little of the swamp still remained, and on the other side was the open clearing.
"This is your best way," said Don, pointing out the path to Hughie. "We had bad luck to-day, but we'll try again. We may meet him still, you know, so don't fire at any squirrel or anything. If I hear a shot I'll come to you, and you do the same by me."
"I say," said Hughie, "where does this track of mine come out? Is it below the Deepole there, or is it on the other side of the clearing?"
"Why, don't you know?" said Don. "This runs right up to the back