“I war agoin’ to turn back to the water, when I spied a big log lyin’ half out o’ the thicket, with one eend buried in the bushes. I noticed that the top of this log had a dirty look, as if some animal had tramped about on it; an’ on goin’ up and squintin’ at it a little closter, I seed that that guess war the right one.
“I clomb the log, for it war a regular rouster, bigger than that ’n we had so much useless trouble with, and then I scrammelled along the top o’ it in the direction of the brush. Thar I seed the very hole whar the bar had got into the thicket, and thar war a regular beaten-path runnin’ through the brake as far as I could see.
“I jumped off o’ the log, and squeezed myself through the bramble. It war a trail easy enough to find, but mighty hard to foller, I can tell ye. Thar war thistles, and cussed stingin’ nettles, and briars as thick as my wrist, with claws upon them as sharp as fish-hooks. I pushed on, howsomever, feelin’ quite sartin that sich a well-used track must lead to the bar’s den, an’ I war safe enough to find it. In coorse I reckoned that the critter had his nest in some holler tree, and I could go home for my axe, and come back the next morning—if smoking failed to git him out.
“Well, I poked on through the thicket a good three hundred yards, sometimes crouching, and sometimes creeping on my hands and knees. I war badly scratched, I tell you, and now and then I jest thought to myself, what would be the consyquince if the bar should meet me in that narrow passage. We’d a had a tough tussel, I reckon—but I met no bar.
“At last the brash grew thinner, and jest as I was in hopes I might stumble on the bar tree, what shed I see afore me but the face o’ a rocky bluff, that riz a consid’able height over the crik bottom. I begun to fear that the varmint had a cave, and so, cuss him! he had—a great black gulley in the rocks was right close by, and thar was his den, and no mistake. I could easily tell it by the way the clay and stones had been pattered over by his paws.
“Of coorse, my tracking for that day war over, and I stood by the mouth of the cave not knowin’ what to do. I didn’t feel inclined to go in.
“After a while I bethought me that the bar mout come out, an’ I laid myself squat down among the bushes facing the cave. I had my gun ready to give him a mouthful of lead, as soon as he should show his snout outside o’ the hole.
“’Twar no go. I guess he had heard me when I first come up, and know’d I war thar. I laid still until ’twar so dark I thought I would never find my way back agin to the crik; but, after a good deal of scramblin’ and creepin’ I got out at last, and took my way home.
“It warn’t likely I war agoin’ to give that bar up. I war bound to fetch him out o’ his boots if it cost me a week’s hunting. So I returned the next morning to the place, and lay all day in front o’ the cave. No bar appeared, an’ I went back home a cussin’.
“Next day I come again, but this time I didn’t intend to stay. I had fetched my axe with me wi’ the intention of riggin’ up a log trap near the mouth o’ the cave. I had also fetched a jug o’ molasses and some yeers o’ green corn to bait the trap, for I know’d the bar war fond o’ both.