Jim proved to be so far recovered that he was able to hobble about a little on three legs, the fourth being skilfully¹ bandaged so that he could not put his foot to the ground. It was obvious, however, that he could not make a journey through the woods and be any use whatever at the end of it. Blackstock, therefore, knocked together a handy litter for his benefit. And with very ill grace Jim submitted to being borne upon it.  
Some twenty paces from that solitary² boot-print which marked the end of Black Dan's trail, Jim was set free from his litter and his attention directed to a bruised³ tuft of moss⁴.
 
"Seek him," said Blackstock.
 
The dog gave one sniff⁵, and then with a growl⁶ of anger the hair lifted along his back, and he limped forward hurriedly.
 
"He's got it in for Black Dan now," remarked MacDonald. And the whole party followed with hopeful expectation, so great was their faith in Jim's sagacity.
 
The dog, in his haste, overshot the end of the trail. He stopped abruptly⁸, whined⁹, sniffed¹⁰ about, and came back to the deep boot-print. All about it he circled, whimpering with impatience¹¹, but never going more than a dozen feet away from it. Then he returned, sniffed long and earnestly, and stood over it with drooping¹² tail, evidently quite nonplussed¹³.
 
"He don't appear to make no more of it than you did, Tug¹⁴," said Long Jackson, much disappointed.
 
"Oh, give him time, Long," retorted Blackstock. Then——
 
"Seek him! Seek him, good boy," he repeated, waving Jim to the front.
 
Running with amazing briskness¹⁶ on his three sound legs, the dog began to quarter the undergrowth in ever-widening half-circles, while the men stood waiting and watching. At last, at a distance of several hundred yards, he gave a yelp¹⁷ and a growl, and sprang forward.
 
"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 rigid¹⁸ 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 standing¹⁹. "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 severely²¹. "What's bears to you? Smell that!" and he pointed¹⁵ 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 rebuke²² withheld²³ him. Finally, he sat down upon his dejected tail and stared upwards²⁴ into a great tree, one of whose lower branches stretched directly over his head.
 
Blackstock followed his gaze. The tree was an ancient rock maple²⁵, its branches large but comparatively few in number. Blackstock could see clear to its top. It was obvious that the tree could afford no hiding-place to anything larger than a wild-cat. Nevertheless, as Blackstock studied it, a gleam of sudden insight passed over his face.
 
"Jim 'pears to think Black Dan's gone to Heaven," remarked Saunders drily.
 
"Ye can't always tell what Jim's thinkin'," retorted Blackstock. "But I'll bet it's a clever idea he's got in his black head, whatever it is."
 
He scanned the tree anew and the other trees nearest whose branches interlaced with it. Then, with a sharp "Come on, Jim," he started towards the knoll²⁶, eyeing the branches overhead as he went. The rest of the party followed at a discreet²⁷ distance.
 
Crippled as he was, Jim could not climb the steep face of the knoll, but his master helped him up. The instant he entered the cave he growled²⁸ savagely²⁹, and once more the stiff hair rose along his back. Blackstock watched in silence for a moment. He had never before noticed, on Jim's part, any special hostility³⁰ toward bears, whom he was quite accustomed to trailing. He glanced up at the big branch that overhung the entrance, and conviction settled on his face. Then he whispered, sharply, "Seek him, Jim." And Jim set off at once, as fast as he could limp, along the trail of the bear.
 
"Come on, boys," called Blackstock to his posse. "Ef we can't find Black Dan we may as well hev a little bear-hunt to fill in the time. Jim appears to hev a partic'lar grudge³¹ agin that bear."
 
The men closed up eagerly, expecting to find that Blackstock, with Jim's help, had at last discovered some real signs of Black Dan. When they saw that there was still nothing more than that old bear's trail, which they had already examined, Long Jackson began to grumble³².
 
"We kin²⁰ hunt bear any day," he growled.
 
"I guess Tug ain't no keener after bear this day than you be," commented MacDonald. "He's got somethin' up his sleeve, you see!"
 
"Mebbe it's a tame b'ar, a trained b'ar, an' Black Dan's a-ridin' him horseback," suggested Big Andy.
 
Blackstock, who was close at Jim's heels, a few paces ahead of the rest, turned with one of his rare, ruminative³³ laughs.
 
"That's quite an idea of yours, Andy," he remarked, stooping to examine one of those great clawed footprints in a patch of soft soil.
 
"But even trained b'ar hain't got wings," commented MacDonald again. "An' there's a good three hundred yards atween the spot where Black Dan's trail peters out an' the nearest b'ar track. I guess yer interestin' hipotheesis don't quite fill the bill—eh, Andy?"
 
"Anyways," protested the big Oromocto man, "ye'll all notice one thing queer about this here b'ar track. It goes straight. Mostly a b'ar will go wanderin' off this way an' that, to nose at an old root, er grub up a bed o' toadstools. But this b'ar keeps right on, as ef he had important business somewhere straight ahead. That's just the way he'd go ef some one was a-ridin' him horseback."
 
Andy had advanced his proposition as a joke, but now he was inclined to take it seriously and to defend it with warmth.
 
"Well," said Long Jackson, "we'll all chip in, when we git our money back, an' buy ye a bear, Andy, an' ye shall ride it up every day from the mills to the post office. It'll save ye quite a few minutes in gittin' to the post office. It don't matter about yer gittin' away."
 
The big Oromocto lad blushed, but laughed good-naturedly. He was so much in love with the little widow who kept the post office that nothing pleased him more than to be teased about her.
 
For the Deputy's trained eyes, as for Jim's trained nose, that bear-track was an easy one to follow. Nevertheless, progress was slow, for Blackstock would halt from time to time to interrogate³⁴ some claw-print with special minuteness, and from time to time Jim would stop to lie down and lick gingerly at his bandage, tormented³⁵ by the aching of his wound.
 
Late in the afternoon, when the level shadows were black upon the trail and the trailing had come to depend entirely³⁶ on Jim's nose, Blackstock called a halt on the banks of a small brook³⁷ and all sat down to eat their bread and cheese. Then they sprawled³⁸ about, smoking, for the Deputy, apparently³⁹ regarding the chase as a long one, was now in no great hurry. Jim lay on the wet sand, close to the brook's edge, while Blackstock, scooping⁴⁰ up the water in double handfuls, let it fall in an icy stream on the dog's bandaged leg.
 
"Hev ye got any reel idee to come an' go on, Tug?" demanded Long Jackson at last, blowing a long, slow jet of smoke from his lips, and watching it spiral upwards across a bar of light just over his head.
 <............