“A large musket,” said Glenn, recollecting the enormous explosion that seemed to jar the whole woods like an earthquake; “it must have been Joe who fired—­he had certainly overcharged the gun, and I fear it has burst in his hands, which may account for his absence.”

“Be not uneasy,” replied Boone; “for I can assure you from the peculiar sound it made that it did nothing more than rebound violently; besides, those guns very rarely burst.  But here comes Sneak, (I think they call him so,) no doubt having some tidings of your man.  It seems he has not been idle.  He has a brace of racoons in his hands.”

The tall slim form of Sneak was seen coming down the path.  Ever and anon he cast his eyes from one hand to the other, regarding with no ordinary interest the dead animals he bore.

“I did not hear him fire,” remarked Glenn.

“He may have killed them with stones,” said Boone; and as Sneak drew near, he continued, with a smile, “they are nothing more than a brace of his terriers, that doubtless Bruin dispatched, and which may well be spared, notwithstanding Sneak’s seeming sorrow.”

Sneak approached the place where Boone and Glenn were standing, with the gravest face that man ever wore.  His eyes seemed to be set in his head, for not once did they wink, nor did his lips move for some length of time after he threw down the dogs at the feet of Glenn, although several men addressed him.  He stood with his arms folded, and gazed mournfully at his dead dogs.

“The little fellows fought bravely, and covered themselves with glory,” said Glenn, much amused at the solemn demeanour of Sneak.

“If there ain’t more blood spilt on the strength of it, I wish I may be smashed!” said Sneak, compressing his lips.

“What mean you? what’s the matter?” inquired Boone, who best understood what the man was meditating.

“I’ve got as good a gun as anybody here!  And I’ll have revenge, or pay!” replied Sneak, turning his eyes on Glenn.

“If your remarks are intended for me,” said Glenn, “rely upon it you shall have justice.”

“Tell us all about it,” said Boone.

“When I heard that fool up the valley shoot off his forty-four pounder, I ran to see what he had done, and when I came near to where he was, his gun was lying up the hill behind him, and he setting down whining like a baby, and a great gore of blood hanging to his nose.  I wish it had blowed his head off!  I got tired of staying with the tarnation fool, who couldn’t tell me a thing, when I heard you shooting, and the horn blowing for the men; and knowing the bar was dead, I started off full tilt.  I hadn’t gone fifty steps before I began to see where his bullets had spattered the trees and bushes in every direction.  Presently I stumbled over these dogs, my own puppies—­and there they lay as dead as door nails.  I whistled, and they didn’t move; I then stooped down to see how the bear had killed ’em, and I found these bullet holes in ’em!” said Sneak, turning their limber bodies over with his foot, until their wounds were uppermost.  “I’ll be shot if I don’t have pay, or revenge!” he continued, with tears in his eyes.