"Got it!" exclaimed Big Andy.
"Guess it's only the trail o' that there b'ar he's struck," suggested Jackson pessimistically.
"Jim, stop!" ordered Blackstock. And the dog stood rigid in his tracks while Blackstock hastened forward to see what he had found.
"Sure enough. It's only the bear," cried Blackstock, investigating the great footprint over which Jim was standing. "Come along back here, Jim, an' don't go foolin' away yer time over a bear, jest now."
The dog sniffed at the trail, gave another hostile growl, and reluctantly followed his master back. Blackstock made him smell the boot-print again. Then he said with emphasis, "Black Dan, Jim, it's Black Dan we're wantin'. Seek him, boy. Fetch him."
Jim started off on the same manoeuvres as before, and at the same point as before he again gave a growl and a yelp and bounded forward.
"Jim," shouted the Deputy angrily, "come back here."
The dog came limping back, looking puzzled.
"What do you mean by that foolin'?" went on his master severely. "What's bears to you? Smell that!" and he pointed again to the boot-print. "It's Black Dan you're after."
Jim hung upon his words, but looked hopelessly at sea as to his meaning. He turned and gazed wistfully in the direction of the bear's trail. He seemed on the point of starting out for it again, but the tone of Blackstock's rebuke withheld him. Finally, he sat down upon his dejected tail and stared upwards into a great tree, one of whose lower branches stretched directly over his head.