The actions of Don’s hounds made the young hunters almost as nervous as they made Godfrey Evans.  David stopped tugging at the oars and looked over his shoulder; Bert caught up his father’s double-barrel and hastily loaded it with two cartridges containing buckshot; while Don, after bringing the canoe broadside to the island, dropped the paddle with which he was steering, and picked up his rifle.

“He’s there yet,” said Bert.  “The hounds have scented him already.”

“It looks like it,” replied Don.  “Well, we came here to find him, and if he drives us away to-day he’ll have to fight to do it.  Dave, you’d better load up—­Bert has plenty of loose buckshot in his pocket—­and mind you now, fellows, don’t get excited and shoot the dogs.  I’d rather let the bear go than have one of them hurt.”

While David was loading his single-barrel—­his hands trembled a little, and it took him longer than usual to do it—­Don and Bert sat with their guns across their knees, closely watching the island, while the hounds stood in the bow snuffing the air.  They caught some taint upon the breeze, that was evident, for the long hair on the back of their necks stood erect and now and then they growled savagely.

When David had driven home a good-sized charge of buckshot and placed a cap upon his gun, he leaned the weapon against the thwart upon which he was sitting and picked up the oars.  Don dropped his paddle into the water, and the canoe moved around the foot of the island and along the beach, until it reached a point opposite the place where Bert had found the path the day before.  Then it was turned toward the bank, and the moment the bow grounded, the hounds sprang out.  The boys followed with all haste, and Bert, as he stepped ashore, drew the canoe half way out of the water, so that the current could not carry her down the stream.

“Now, we’ll send the dogs in to drive him out,” said Don, “and if they can push him fast enough to make him take to a tree, he’s our bear; but if he takes to the water and swims to the mainland, we shall lose him.  We don’t care for that, however.  He’ll be sure to come back, and when he does he’ll find a trap waiting for him.  We’ll see as much sport in catching him alive as we would in shooting him.  Hunt ’em up, there!” he added, waving his hand along the path.

The hounds, baying fierce and loud at every jump, went tearing through the cane, followed by the boys, who moved in single file, Don leading the way.  A very few minutes sufficed to bring them to the cleared spot in which Godfrey’s camp was located, and there they found the hounds running about showing every sign of anger and excitement.

“They’re on a warm trail,” said Don, looking first into each corner of the cleared space and then up into the trees over his head.  “The game has just left here.  This is somebody’s old camp, and the bear has taken possession of it.  No doubt he slept in that shanty.  Hunt ’em up, there!”