"When ye're in position give the call o' the big horned owl, not too loud. An' when I answer with the same call twice, then close in. But keep a good-sized tree atween you an' the winder, for ye never know what a bear kin do when he's trained. I'll bet Big Andy's seen bears that could shoulder a gun like a man! So look out for yourselves. Long an' Jim an' me, we'll follow the trail o' the bear right round this end o' the pond--an' ef I'm not mistaken it'll lead us right up to the door o' that there hut. Some bears hev a taste in regard to where they sleep." As noiselessly as shadows the party melted away in opposite directions. The pond lay smooth as glass under the flooding moonlight, reflecting a pale star or two where the moon-path grudgingly gave it space. After some fifteen minutes a lazy, muffled hooting floated across the pond. Five minutes later the same call, the very voice of the wilderness at midnight, came from the deep of the woods behind the hut. Blackstock, with Jackson close behind him and Jim pulling eagerly on the leash, was now within twenty yards of the hut door, but hidden behind a thick young fir tree. He breathed the call of the horned owl--a mellow, musical call, which nevertheless brings terror to all the small creatures of the wilderness--and then, after a pause, repeated it softly. He waited for a couple of minutes motionless. His keen ears caught the snapping of a twig close behind the hut. "Big Andy's big feet that time," he muttered to himself. "That boy'll never be much good on the trail." Then, leaving Jim to the care of Jackson, he slipped forward to another and bigger tree not more than a dozen paces from the cabin. Standing close in the shadow of the trunk, and drawing his revolver, he called sharply as a gun-shot--"Dan Black." Instantly there was a thud within the hut as of some one leaping from a bunk. "Dan Black," repeated the Deputy, "the game's up. I've got ye surrounded. Will ye come out quietly an' give yerself up, or do ye want trouble?" "Waal, no, I guess I don't want no more trouble," drawled a cool voice from within the hut. "I guess I've got enough o' my own already. I'll come out, Tug." The door was flung open, and Black Dan, with his hands held up, stalked forth into the moonlight. [Illustration: "The door was flung open, and Black Dan, with his hands held up, stalked forth into the moonlight."] With a roar Jim sprang out from behind the fir tree, dragging Long Jackson with him by the sudden violence of his rush. "Down, Jim, _down_!" ordered Blackstock. "Lay down an' shut up." And Jim, grumbling in his throat, allowed Jackson to pull him back by the collar. Blackstock advanced and clicked the handcuffs on to Black Dan's wrists. Then he took the revolver and knife from the prisoner's belt, and motioned him back into the hut. "Bein' pretty late now," said Blackstock, "I guess we'll accept yer hospitality for the rest o' the night."