“DON the hounds say there’s something on the island,” said Bert.

Don ceased rowing, faced about and looked at his favorites, whose actions he had learned to read like a book. They were beginning to be very uneasy.

“Yes, sir,” said Don, his countenance brightening, and his eye lighting up with excitement, “there’s something there. I hope it is a bear, for if it should turn out to be nobody but Godfrey Evans I should be provoked. You needn’t be afraid,” he added, with a hasty glance at his brother’s sober face. “If it is a bear he can’t take us unawares while the dogs are with us. They’ll find him and show us where he is.”

“I couldn’t shoot him if I should see him,” said Bert, drawing a long breath. “You know that while we were over on Coldwater all my shooting was done on small game. I never saw a wild bear in my life.”

“You needn’t shoot him. In fact, I’d rather you wouldn’t try; for if you were in the least excited you might shoot the dogs, and I wouldn’t have them hurt for all the bears in Mississippi. You know that all those hunters in Africa have after-riders—men who keep close behind them, and hand them a second gun if they need it. You can do the same by me. If I fail to make a dead shot with my rifle, be ready to give me your double barrel. There are buckshot enough in it to kill any bear I ever saw. Keep close at my heels, and the bear shan’t hurt you, unless he kills or disables me first,” added Don, who took pride in the fact that he was able to act as protector to his weak and timid brother.

“But I don’t want him to hurt you, either,” said Bert.

“I don’t intend that he shall. I am not as much afraid of those fellows as I was a few weeks ago, for I have learned that a quick eye and steady hand are all that are needed to bring one safely through.”

Don laid out all his strength on the oars again, and the canoe rapidly approached the island; but before it had gone many yards the report of a rifle rang out on the air, being followed a moment later by a rustling in the cane which the boys knew was not made by the breeze, and then by loud and rapidly-spoken words which the young hunters could not understand. The words were uttered by Bob Owens, who was calling upon his companion to save himself by flight. Then there was a loud shout of terror, followed by more rustling in the cane, and by repeated cries from some one who was evidently in great distress or threatened by some terrible danger. The hounds bayed loudly in response, Bert’s cheek blanched, and Don rested on his oars and looked first at the island and then at his brother in great astonishment. His inactivity, however, lasted but for a moment. The voices and cries of distress continued to come from the island, and Don, with the remark that there was some one there who was in need of assistance, bent to his oars with redoubled energy.

The canoe moved swiftly along the shore of the island until it reached a point opposite the path leading to the little clearing in which the bear trap was located, and then Bert turned it toward the shore, and Don with a few strong pulls drove the bow deep into the mud. The hounds, hardly waiting for the boat to become stationary, sprang ashore and were out of sight in an instant. Don, shouting directions to his favorites, followed as fast as he was able, and Bert, with his double barrel on his shoulder, kept close to his brother’s side, wondering all the while at the courage he exhibited in doing so. But one never knows how much nerve he has until he is put to the test. Perhaps that pale, quiet friend of yours, who looks as though he had scarcely strength enough to lift his heavy satchel full of books, and who always turns and walks meekly away whenever the great, hulking bully of the school says a harsh word to him, would, if placed in a situation of extreme danger, stand his ground and show the greatest coolness and courage, while that same bully would run for his life.

The young hunters ran swiftly along the path, but before they had made many steps they heard a great crashing in the cane, accompanied by a chorus of snarls and growls that were enough to frighten almost any one. But they did not frighten Don now. He had heard such sounds so often of late that they did not affect his nerves any more than the baying of his own hounds would have done. He ran on faster than ever, and a few more steps brought him around an abrupt bend in the path. There he stopped, greatly astonished at what he saw—a battle between his hounds and a bear. It was not the battle that astonished him, but the size of the animal with which his favorites were contending. It was the largest he had ever seen in all his hunting. It was almost as large as the one which had slaughtered so many dogs in that same canebrake a few years before. She was standing on her hind feet, striking viciously at the dogs, which, altogether too wise to close with so huge an antagonist, were bounding about her, biting her first in one place and then in another, and keeping her spinning around like a top.

Don took in the situation at a glance, and then his rifle slowly and steadily arose to his shoulder, the sight covering the bear’s neck. He fired at the proper moment and the animal fell to the ground, being assisted in her fall by the hounds, which, encouraged by the presence of their master, seized her at the same instant and pulled her with great violence against the nearest sapling. The result was not a little bewildering to Don and his brother. A loud cry of alarm sounded among the branches over their heads, and they looked up just in time to see some heavy body descending through the air. It struck the ground, from which it seemed to bound like a ball, and when it came to an upright position, as it did a moment later, Don saw that it was Lester Brigham, and not a bear, as he had at first supposed. His astonishment was so great that for a moment he could neither move nor speak; but Bert could and did, for he saw that the boy was in danger.

“Look out, Lester! Run for your life!” he cried.

Aroused by the exclamation, Don turned his eyes from Lester to the bear, and saw that the animal had regained her feet, and having knocked down one of the hounds was rushing upon Lester with open mouth. Don was frightened now, for he believed that something dreadful was about to happen; but his nerve did not fail him nor did he hesitate an instant. Dropping his empty rifle, and seizing the double barrel which Bert promptly handed him, already cocked, he drew the weapon to his shoulder, and by a hasty snap-shot saved Lester’s life. The bear and her intended victim both dropped at the report, the one mortally wounded and the other in a dead faint. So closely together did they fall that the bear, in her death struggle, tore Lester’s clothing with her claws. Bert at once dashed forward to drag him out of danger, while Don ended the battle by firing another charge of buckshot into the animal’s head. Lester could now say that he had been within five feet of a bear, and tell nothing but the truth.

“Well, this beats anything I ever heard of,” said Don, as soon as he had made sure that the bear was dead. “How do you suppose Lester got here? I didn’t see any boat on the beach, did you?”

“No,” answered Bert; “I was too badly frightened to see anything.”

“But there’s a boat there all the same,” said a voice.

Don and Bert looked wonderingly at each other. “Who’s that?” demanded the latter, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Bob Owens!”

The rustling among the branches which accompanied these words told the brothers where to look to find the speaker. They walked toward the foot of a neighboring sapling, and, looking upward, saw Bob Owens coming down. His pale face and trembling hands showed that he, as well as Lester, had sustained something of a fright.

“Why, Bob, what in the world brought you here?” exclaimed Bert.

“I came up to find the bear that drove you and Don off the island a few days ago,” replied Bob. “I found her, too,” he added, suddenly pausing in his descent as an angry growl fell upon his ear. It was uttered by one of the hounds, which recognised in Bob the robber who had been compelled to take refuge on the roof of the negro cabin. He looked up at the boy and showed him the teeth he had come so near using on him that night.

“Bose, behave yourself!” exclaimed Don, sharply. “Come down, Bob, and tell us all about it.”

Before Bob could comply, a wild, shrill cry, which, during her life, would have excited the old bear almost to frenzy, sounded from the direction of the clearing, which was a few rods deeper in the cane. The boys all knew what it was. Bob uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and began to mount among the branches of the sapling again, while Bert put fresh cartridges into his old double-barrel, and Don ran back after his rifle, which he began to reload with all haste. While he was thus engaged his eye fell upon Lester’s prostrate form.

“I say, Bob!” he exclaimed, “you had better come down and see to your friend here.”

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Bob, from his perch.

“He has fainted. He was frightened by the bear, and perhaps injured by his fall from the tree. I don’t blame him for being frightened. I don’t suppose he ever saw a bear before in his life.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Bob, “he says he has shot more of them than you ever saw.”

Don did not believe that Lester told the truth when he said this; but he could not stop to argue the point just then, for his mind was too fully occupied with thoughts of what was yet to come. He patched the ball very carefully, and, as he drew the ramrod to drive it home, he said:

“Come down here, and take care of him, Bob. Throw some water in his face, and I think he will come out all right. You will find a cup in our boat.”

“I guess not,” replied Bob. “I’ve no business down there. Don’t you know that that was the cry of a cub we heard just now?”

“Of course I do. But what of it?”

“Don’t you know that if the old one is anywhere around you are in danger down there?”

“I don’t think the old one will trouble us. She’s dead.”

“But suppose the father of the family should be in the neighborhood? Take to a tree, quick!” exclaimed Bob, as the cub once more set up his shrill cry. “Bring your rifle up with you, and if the other old one comes around you can shoot him easy enough.”

“That’s not my way of doing business,” replied Don, somewhat surprised at the proposition. “Why, Bob, I thought you had hunted bears all your life.”

“So I have; but I always had a good horse under me, and plenty of dogs to back me up. You’ll never again catch me on foot around where one of these animals is. I’ve had enough of it to-day.”

The loud baying of the hounds, which had dashed down the path as soon as the cry of the cub fell upon their ears, now echoed through the woods, and Don having by this time loaded his rifle, ran toward the clearing, leaving Bob to help his friend Lester, or not, just as he pleased. Bert, in his capacity of gun-bearer, kept close behind his brother as he ran.

A few rapid steps brought the hunters to the edge of the clearing, and there they stopped to reconnoitre the ground before going farther. They did not want to run into the clutches of another old bear if they could help it. The hounds were standing on their hind legs with their fore feet resting against the body of a small tree, looking up into the branches and baying loudly. Don looked, too, and saw a young bear about the size of a Newfoundland dog perched in the fork.

“O, Bert,” exclaimed Don, “why didn’t we think to bring an axe with us? It wouldn’t be any trouble at all to cut the tree down and take that fellow alive.”

Before Bert could say anything in reply, the hounds suddenly left the tree, and dashing across the clearing, threw themselves against the trap, toward which Don had not before thought to look, and thrusting their noses between the logs, made desperate efforts to reach something on the inside; while whatever it was on the inside ran about and squalled as if greatly alarmed. Then Don saw that the top of the trap was down. He ran quickly to it and looking between the logs saw crouching in the furthermost corner the mate to the young bear in the tree. The huge animal he had shot in the path was the mother of the two cubs.

“We’ve got two of them,” he exclaimed in great glee. “Are we not in luck? Don’t you remember father told us that if we could trap a cub Silas Jones would give us twenty dollars for him? We’ll have forty dollars to give David. We don’t need the money and he does.”

“Of course he does,” replied Bert. “We’ll leave the dogs here and go home and get help.”

“That’s the idea. We shall need plenty of it, too, for that bear is pretty heavy, and it will take a strong force to drag her to the bayou and put her into the boat. Here, boys,” he added, calling to his dogs and placing his hand on the tree in which the young bear had taken refuge, “keep your eyes on him and don’t let him come down.”

The hounds understood him and seemed quite willing to remain and watch the game. They had passed many a night in the woods guarding a coon tree, and we know how faithfully they and the rest of Don’s pack watched Lester and Bob while they were on the top of the negro cabin. All they had to do was to “keep their eyes” on the bear in the tree; the one in the trap could not possibly escape.

Don now shouldered his rifle and retraced his steps along the path, followed by his faithful gun-bearer. When they reached the scene of the fight they found Lester Brigham sitting up with his back supported against a tree and Bob Owens kneeling beside him in the act of handing him a cup of water.

After the brothers ran toward the clearing Bob waited and listened, expecting every instant to hear the sounds of another desperate struggle; but as nothing but the baying of the hounds came to his ears, he made up his mind that there were no more old bears about, and finally mustered up courage enough to go to the assistance of his companion as Don had suggested. He made his way to the ground and stopping long enough to take a good look at the huge animal which had been the cause of so much alarm to him, he ran up the path to see how Lester was getting on. The latter was beginning to show some signs of returning animation, and the cup of water that Bob dashed into his face brought all his faculties back to him. He opened his eyes and seemed instantly to recall all the exciting incidents that had so recently occurred. He jumped to his feet with a cry of alarm, but was so weak that if Bob had not caught him in his arms he would have fallen to the ground. Bob propped him up against a tree and after assuring him that the bear was dead, hurried off to the bayou after another cup of water.

“How do you feel, Lester?” asked Don, with some anxiety.

“All done up,” was the scarcely audible reply. “I feel as if every bone in my body was broken. I’ll tell you what it is: if I had been in practice, as I was when I took my last hunt in Michigan, you wouldn’t have had a chance to shoot that bear. I’ve killed dozens of them; but this one came upon me so suddenly that I couldn’t do anything.”

“I guess you are all right,” thought Don, with a sly glance at his brother. “As long as a boy can tell falsehoods there’s not much the matter with him.” Then aloud he asked: “Can we be of any assistance to you?”

“O, no,” replied Lester, who wanted nothing to do with the boys he had wronged. “I shall be able to walk in a few minutes and Bob will take care of me.”

“Very well; then we will go home. We must have help to get this old bear into a boat, and besides there are two cubs back there in the clearing that we want to capture alive. They are worth twenty dollars apiece, and the money belongs to Dave Evans.”

“Dave Evans!” sneered Lester, as soon as the brothers were out of sight in the cane. “There’s nobody in this settlement but Dave Evans.”

“Twenty dollars apiece,” said Bob, pulling off his hat and dashing it spitefully upon the ground. “That makes forty dollars, which added to a hundred and sixty makes two hundred dollars. Wouldn’t I have a breech-loader if I had that amount of money in my pocket? But I haven’t got a cent, and here’s this miserable fellow rich already. I wish I dared go back there and shoot those cubs. I would if the hounds were not there. I’d shoot the dogs, too, if I thought Don wouldn’t suspect me.”

Meanwhile Don was laying out all his strength on the oars, and the canoe was moving rapidly down the bayou. When it reached the lake, and was passing Godfrey’s cabin, Don and his brother, who had not seen the boy trapper since their return, and consequently knew nothing of his good fortune, looked all around for him, intending, if they saw him, to tell him that he had some valuable property up in the woods which was waiting to be secured. “I don’t see any thing of him,” said Bert, “and we are in too great a hurry to stop and hunt him up.”

“Never mind,” said Don. “He’ll be around as soon as he finds out that we are at home. Now, Bert, if you will make the canoe fast and put our guns in the sail-boat, and get her all ready for the start, I’ll run up to the house and ask father if he will let a couple of the darkies go with us after those bears. We don’t want any lunch, do we?”

No, Bert didn’t want any. There was too much sport in prospect, and he couldn’t eat a mouthful until it was all over.

When the canoe reached the wharf Don sprang out, and Bert was preparing to make her fast at her usual moorings, when they heard a loud shout, and looking toward the road saw David Evans running along the beach. “I’ll wait until I hear how he succeeded with his quails,” said Don.

“And won’t he be surprised when he learns that he will have forty dollars more in his pocket to-night,” said Bert. “David ought to be very happy and contented now, for he is getting on nicely.”

“Well, he doesn’t act to me like a very happy boy this morning,” said Don, in a low tone, as David came nearer. “There’s something the matter with him. He doesn’t usually hang his head that way.”

Bert, having made the canoe fast to the tree, straightened up, and when he had taken a good look at David, told himself that his brother was right. There was something the matter with him. While he was wondering what new misfortune had fallen to the lot of the boy trapper, Don called out:

“We’ve just been talking about you, Dave. How goes the battle?”

David tried to answer, but could not utter a word. Don, believing that it was because he was out of breath after his rapid run, continued:

“You’ve had plenty of time to hear from those quails, and I suppose you’ve got a pocketful of money now, haven’t you?”

David had by this time approached so close to the brothers that they could see that his face was very pale, and that his eyes were red and swollen with weeping. He stepped upon the shore end of the jetty, and throwing himself down upon it, covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth, sobbing violently. Don and his brother looked at each other in great surprise, and at length the former managed to ask: “What’s the matter?”

“O, Don!” cried David.

“Well, I can’t make any thing of that reply,” exclaimed the boy. “Tell me what’s the matter with you. Hasn’t your money come?”

“O, yes, it came,” sobbed David.

These words, and the tone in which they were spoken, let Don into the secret of his friend’s trouble. Impatient to know the worst at once, he walked up and caught David by the arm. “Out with it,” said he. “Where’s your money now?”

“I worked so hard for it,” cried David, “and mother needed it so much; but now it’s gone—all gone. I’ve lost every red cent of it!”

Bert drew a long breath, and seated himself in the canoe with an air which said that this last misfortune was altogether too much for him to stand up under, while Don pushed back his sleeves, placed his hands on his hips, and looked down at the weeping boy.