“Now he’ll lead us to one camp or another,” said Tom. “Welcome to our city, Towser!”
“What happened to the bear?” asked Jack, as the dog leaped about caressingly from one to the other.
“Evidently nothing,” Tom said. “I don’t believe the dog found him. His name isn’t Towser though, by the way. I’ve forgotten what Sam did call him, but it wasn’t Towser.”
“What makes you think he didn’t find the bear?” Bert wanted to know.
“He’d show some evidence of it if he had,” was the reply. “He’d have a scratch or two. No, I think he gave up the chase soon after we did, and came after us.”
“Well, now he’s here, let’s make some use of him,” suggested George. “Do you really think he’ll lead us back to camp, Tom?”
“Well, there’s a chance of it,” Tom affirmed. “Let’s give him a trial. Here, old boy!” he called to the dog, a beautiful specimen. “Home, old fellow!”
The dog barked, wagged his tail, and set off on a run through the driving snow. He barked loudly, turning now and then to see if any of the four young hunters were following.
“That’s the idea!” cried Jack. “Come on, boys. He’ll lead us, all right!”
“But where, is another question,” Tom put in. “My early education was neglected. I never learned dog talk, though I can swim that fashion pretty well.”