"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. "I hev," said Blackstock. "An' air ye sure it's a good one--good enough to drag us 'way out here on?" persisted Jackson. "I'm bankin' on it," answered Blackstock. "An' so's Jim, I'm thinkin'," suggested MacDonald, tentatively. "Jim's idee an' mine ain't the same, exackly," vouchsafed Blackstock, after a pause, "but I guess they'll come to the same thing in the end. They're fittin' in with each other fine, so fur!" "What'll ye bet that ye're not mistaken, the both o' yez?" demanded Jackson. "Yer wages fur the whole summer!" answered Blackstock promptly. Long looked satisfied. He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and proceeded to refill it. "Oh, ef ye're so sure as that, Tug," he drawled, "I guess I ain't takin' any this time." For a couple of hours after sunset the party continued to follow the trail, depending now entirely upon Jim's leadership. The dog, revived by his rest and his master's cold-water treatment, limped forward at a good pace, growling from time to time as a fresh pang in his wound reminded him anew of his enemy. "How Jim 'pears to hate that bear!" remarked Big Andy once. "He does _that_!" agreed Blackstock. "An' he's goin' to git his own back, too, I'm thinkin', afore long." Presently the moon rose round and yellow through the tree-tops, and the going became less laborious. Jim seemed untiring now. He pressed on so eagerly that Blackstock concluded the object of his vindictive pursuit, whatever it was, must be now not far ahead. Another hour, and the party came out suddenly upon the bank of a small pond. Jim, his nose to earth, started to lead the way around it, towards the left. But Blackstock stopped him, and halted his party in the dense shadows. The opposite shore was in the full glare of the moonlight. There, close to the water's edge, stood a little log hut, every detail of it standing out as clearly as in daylight. It was obviously old, but the roof had been repaired with new bark and poles and the door was shut, instead of sagging half open on broken hinges after the fashion of the doors of deserted cabins. Blackstock slipped a leash from his pocket and clipped it onto Jim's collar. "I'm thinkin', boys, we'll git some information yonder about that bear, ef we go the right way about inquirin'. Now, Saunders, you go round the pond to the right and steal up alongshore, through the bushes, to within forty paces of the hut. You, Mac, an' Big Andy, you two go round same way, but git well back into the timber, and come up _behind_ the hut to within about the same distance. There'll be a winder on that side, likely.