lack
bears in the hill canyons. The thought of bear's meat aroused every
one, and Stanley suggested a bear hunt. Scott had to send down to
Stanley's ranch at Medicine Bend for his dogs and some delay followed.
But when the three hounds arrived there was excitement enough to
compensate for it. One of the dogs was a big black fellow and his
companions were brown full-bloods. The hounds, one and all, set on
Scuffy the moment they reached camp, and it was only by the most
dexterous manoeuvres that the strange dog escaped being eaten alive.
Indeed, Bob Scott remarked at once that if Scuffy should survive the
greetings of his new comrades he would prove his right to live. The
hounds always set upon him at meal-times, usually chewed him at
bed-time, and harried him at all times.

To a less hopeful temperament than Scuffy's, life would not have
seemed worth living. It was only Bucks who insured him anything at all
to eat, and the enmity of the big, rangy hounds for the lean and
hungry tramp dog left him no peace save when they were fighting in
dreams. To accept life under such conditions indicated that Scuffy was
a philosopher, and he accepted the conditions cheerfully, filching
what he could of sustenance from the common pot and licking his
troublesome wounds at night after his truculent companions had gone to
sleep.

As soon as the tie-supply trouble had been lessened Stanley took
things more leisurely and the interval afforded the opportunity for
the delayed bear hunt. Bob Scott and Dancing were to go with Stanley,
and Bucks being freed for one day from his key was invited to be of
the party. All hands were in the saddle by daybreak, and Scott's
hounds were baying and tearing around camp wild with excitement.

At the last moment a complication arose. Scuffy, who until the moment
of starting had for prudential reasons--that is, to avoid being eaten
up--remained in obscurity, joined the hunters. Every one in turn tried
to drive him back, but long practice had made him expert in dodging
missiles and had rendered him insensible to reproach. The hounds were
too filled with the prospect of sport to pay any attention to Scuffy.
In vain, Bob Scott tried to set them on him and drive him back to
camp. On this occasion, when bullying would plainly have been
justified, no hound would assail Scuffy. Bucks drove him again and
again from the flank of the advance only to have the mortification of
seeing him reappear a mile or two farthe