Poor Tip appeared very sorrowful at this lack of confidence, as shown by the ropes, and his short tail, which had stuck straight up, owing to the excitement around him, now hung down in a sad way.
“He don’t like it,” said Tim, as he tried to cheer Tip by patting him on the head. “He wants to rush right in an’ chew ’em all up, that’s what’s the matter with him.”
No one doubted that statement, and admiring glances were bestowed upon the very small but very ferocious dog.
The party was ready for the start, and the precautions they took even before they were clear of the shadow of the wood-shed told that they did not intend to lose any game by carelessness. Tim and Bobby went in advance, leading Tip, who did not make the slightest effort to get away, and followed by Bill Thompson, carrying his gun in one hand and his knife in the other. Then came the remainder of the party, near or at a distance, as their fear of bears was much or little.
Although it could hardly be expected that any bear had been so venturesome as to cross a field almost in the centre of the town, Tip was encouraged to smell of the ground, and each of the boys was ready for an immediate attack before they were beyond the sound of Mrs. Tucker’s voice.
The march to the edge of the grove was necessarily a slow one, for Tip, finding that he was encouraged to run from one side of the path to the other, did so to his heart’s content, while the boys expected each moment to see him start off like a race-horse, and were ready to spring at once to the aid of Tim and Bobby.
If their caution was great before they left the field, it would be almost impossible to find a word to express their movements when they entered the woods. Every weapon was handled as though it was to be used at once, and the greater portion of the time every eye was fixed on Tip. But not once had the noble animal drawn taut the ropes that held him, not once had he shown any desire to start away at any furious rate of speed. But after half an hour he suddenly smelled of the ground, and then started away at a run, which made the excitement most intense.
“He’s after the bear now, sure!” cried Bill Thompson, as he brandished his knife savagely, and swung his gun around, so that it would be ready for use as a club.
At this startling announcement one or two of the boys who had been careful to keep well in the rear ran considerably slower, as if they were perfectly willing their companions should have all the glory and fight, while one of the party actually turned his back on the prospective scene of carnage and went home.
On sped Tip, now really pulling on the ropes, and Bobby’s face grew pale as he thought how rapidly he was being forced toward the dangerous and anxiously expected fight.