"Well, that wouldn't be like me," returned the trapper, quietly; and Max realized that his was the determined, bulldog nature that never lets go, while with Steve it was a flash-in-the-pan, hasty action, without a careful laying out of plans.
"Then we'll pick up the trail and follow it?" asked the eager boy.
"As soon as we can have Ajax here, son."
"But why wait for the dog?" complained Steve. "It'll take all of an hour to get back here again."
"That and more," replied Trapper Jim.
"And that time will be wasted," Steve went on.
"Listen," remarked the trapper. "Long ago I learned that things like this are done best when you go about them soberly. Once I start on this trail of the pelt thief, and I mean to keep on it if it takes me a hundred miles! What does an hour count for in that case, Steve?"
"Mighty little, I guess," admitted the boy.
"There are other reasons for getting the dog," continued the trapper. "This rascal will expect pursuit. And so every little while he'll do things to cover up his trail. P'r'aps he'll wade along a stream, and come out by way of rocks that would leave no mark. Then, again, he'd run along a log and jump from stone to stone. All these things would delay me. What took ten minutes of his time would consume an hour of mine. It's much easier to set a problem than to solve one."
"Sure thing. I understand now why you want the dog," Steve confessed.