So one morning shortly after the conversation with the cubs, Balser shouldered his gun and set out toward the northwest, accompanied by Limpy Fox and the dogs.
In truth, the expedition had been delayed that Limpy’s sore toe might heal. That was one of Liney’s jokes.
Limpy had no gun, but he fairly bristled with knives and a hatchet, which for several days he had been grinding and whetting until they were almost as sharp as a razor.
The boys roamed through the forest all day long, but found no trace of the one-eared bear, nor of any other, for that matter. So toward evening they turned their faces homeward, where they arrived soon after sunset, very tired and hungry.
Liney had walked over to Balser’s house to learn the fate of the one-eared bear, and fully expected to hear that he had been slaughtered, for she looked upon Balser as a second Saint Hubert, who, as you know, is the patron saint of hunters.
One failure, however, did not shake her faith in Balser, nor did it affect his resolution to kill the one-eared bear.
Next day the boys again went hunting, and again failed to find the bear they sought. They then rested for a few days, and tried again, with still another failure.
After several days of fruitless tramping through the forests, their friends began to laugh at them.
“If he ever catches sight of Tom,” said Liney, “he’ll certainly die, for Tom’s knives and hatchet would frighten any bear to death.”
Balser also made sport of Tom’s armament, but Tom, a little “miffed,” said:—