Sam sternly directed the attention of Bowser to the trail, and ordered him to “look into the matter.”

The hound sniffed the ground, ran back and forth several times, and then gazed up at his master, as if awaiting further orders.

“I won’t stand any such nonsense as that,” said his impatient master, grasping him by the baggy skin at the back of the neck and giving him several sharp blows with a switch.

Bowser yelped and kicked lustily, and, when released, placed his nose to the ground, emitted several more cries, and then trotted off, taking a direction leading almost directly back over the path Herbert had followed the day before.

“He’s on the trail this time,” said Sam, with restored admiration for the hound, “and if he does well, I’ll consider him a great deal better hunting dog than he has shown himself yet.”

In fact, Bowser acted as if anxious to redeem his tainted reputation, and, trotting quite briskly, was soon out of sight among the trees, the lads hurrying after him.

A few minutes later, the yelping of the hound ceased, but the young hunters kept up their pursuit, the fresh trail made by the dog being easily followed, as he turned over and rumpled the abundant leaves on the ground, so that it was plainly discernible.

“I wonder why he has stopped barking,” said Sam.

“I guess he has got tired,” was the rather original reply of Herbert, who was ready to give information, whether reliable or not.

“Bowser seems to have a way of doing things which is different from other dogs—­hallo! there he goes again.”

The resounding cries of the hound echoed through the woods, seemingly at a distance of a half mile, and a little to the east of south.

“I guess he has treed him!” said Herbert, striking into a trot, the others doing the same, and very much doubting whether the odd dog had ever treed anything in his life.

A short run only was necessary, when, by stopping and listening, they learned that the hound was standing instead of running.  If he had been a regular hunting dog, this fact would have proven that he had brought the game to bay.

As respecting Bowser, it was uncertain what it signified.

It did not take the lads long to hurry over the intervening space, when they came upon the hound, who was standing under a large red oak, looking up and barking with all the vigor he possessed.

“He has treed the bear, I do believe!” exclaimed Sam Harper, breaking ahead of the others in his excitement.

Nick Ribsam also thought the indications pointed that way.

CHAPTER XXIX.

“HELP!  HELP!”

The belief that they were close upon the bear threw the boys into a flutter of excitement, and they walked slowly as they approached the tree, up which the hound was barking.

As has been stated, it was what was known as the red oak, very large, with branching limbs at no great distance from the ground.