And although in his own evil heart, Double Runner knew full well the object of his search, to the eyes of the wilderness he was a suspicious mystery that followed an unknown quest along an invisible trail.
And so along that trail, nearer and nearer to the Yellow Dog camp by the Chetawa river, and little guessing that less than half-a-league divided him at the moment from his unsuspecting prey, Double Runner, the artful mischief-maker, took his noiseless path.
CHAPTER XIII
"NEW BED-FELLOWS"
The days in the new home slipped quietly one after the other without anything particular happening, till once again Dusty Star found himself in the neighbourhood of the Tamarack Swamp. He was not thinking of Goshmeelee; and as the point at which he approached it was a long distance from the spot where they had met, he had not the least idea that he was anywhere near her lair. The thing which occupied his mind was how he could get across the swamp without sticking in the slime. Of course he could have avoided it altogether by going round; but that would have meant a long tramp, and he wanted to reach the camp before the evening fell.
It was just the hour before the coming-on of dusk when the swamp appeared at its worst for damp, draughtiness and general dismalness. On the surface of its stagnant pools nothing stirred, but if you waited long enough, peering close into the black depths, bubbles would rise slowly, telling you that things lived oozily far down in the fat slime. And for all it was so terribly still, the air, when you stopped to consider it, was full of low breathings, tickings, and watery whispers, that seemed to come from hidden pockets, and tangles in the weeds. Every tree, branch and stone had its covering of moss, or lichen. The lichen was grey like very old hair. The moss was green with the greenness of things that are very damp.
But here and there in this waste of watery bog, there were knolls of dryness, like islands, where hemlocks or hardwoods lifted their twisted boughs. And it was possible, if you knew the geography of the place, to work your way from one island to another without getting bogged in between. Dusty Star had reached one of these islands, sheltered by two hemlock trees, when he noticed a deep hollow scooped out between their roots. He stooped down and saw to his astonishment two baby bears curled up together and fast asleep. They looked so beautiful with their little bulgy bodies cuddled close against each other, that he loved them at first sight. He was so much taken up with admiring them that he did not notice a large black body moving quietly but surely along a well-worn trail across the swamp. And it was only when he heard a quick rush and a snort of rage that he realized his danger.
It was the mother bear!
There was no time to tell her that he was doing no harm to her cubs. There was no time to escape. Three tremendous leaps, and she was upon him—almost! Then, in the very last fraction of a second, an extraordinary thing happened. It was as if the bear's great body almost twisted itself in the very middle of its spring. Even then, it only missed Dusty Star's body by an inch.