ouldn't start out to hunt big game until I learned
something about it."

The boy waited a minute, listening for some signal from his companion,
but none was heard and he moved on again.

Sam, like many an amateur hunter, began to appreciate the value of a
trained hunting dog. Bowser was not a pure-blooded hound; he was fat and
he was faultily trained. He had stumbled upon the trail of the buck by
accident and had plunged ahead in pursuit, until "pumped," when he
seemed to lose all interest in the sport.

He now stayed close to Sam, continually looking up in his face as if to
ask him when he was going to stop the nonsense and go back home.

He scarcely pricked his ears when the quail ran ahead of him, and paid
no attention to the whirring made by the other. He had had all he wanted
of that kind of amusement and showed no disposition to tire himself any
further.

CHAPTER XIX.

AN UNEXPECTED LESSON.

As it was the height of the hunting season, the reports of guns were
heard at varying distances through the woods, so that Sam could only
judge when they were fired by his friends from their nearness to him.

He was well satisfied that the last shot was from the Remington of
Herbert, while the one that preceded it a few minutes, he was convinced
came from the muzzle-loader of Nick Ribsam, owned by Mr. Marston.

"The boys seem to have found something too do, but I don't believe they
have seen anything of the bear--hallo!"

His last exclamation was caused by his unexpected arrival at a clearing,
in the center of which stood a log cabin, while the half acre
surrounding it showed that it had been cultivated during the season to
the highest extent.

There was that air of thrift and cleanliness about the place which told
the lad that whoever lived within was industrious, frugal, and neat.

"That's a queer place to build a house," said Sam, as he surveyed the
scene; "no one can earn a living there, and it must make a long walk to
reach the neighborhood where work is to be had."

Prompted by a natural curiosity, Sam walked over the faintly marked path
until he stepped upon the piece of hewed log, which answered for a
porch, directly in front of the door.

Although the latch string hung invitingly out, he did not pull it, but
knocked rather gently.

"Come in!" was called out in a female voice, and the boy immediately
opened the door.

A pleasing, neatly-clad young woman was working with her dishes at a
tabl