wander with joy on the far mountain path,
We follow the star that will guide us;"

but before he had finished the third verse, it occurred to the chief
that they were bear-hunters, and that it was very unsportsmanlike
behavior to sing on the chase. For all that they were all very jolly,
throbbing with excitement at the thought of the adventures which they
were about to encounter; and concealing a latent spark of fear under an
excess of bravado. At the end of an hour's march they had reached the
pine forest; and as they were all ravenously hungry they sat down
upon the stones, where a clear mountain brook ran down the slope, and
unpacked their provisions. Wolf-in-the-Temple had just helped himself,
in old Norse fashion, to a slice of smoked ham, having slashed a piece
off at random with his knife, when Erling the Lop-Sided observed that
that ham had a very curious odor. Everyone had to test its smell; and
they all agreed that it did have a singular flavor, though its taste was
irreproachable.

"It smells like a menagerie," said the Skull-Splitter, as he handed it
to Thore the Hound.

"But the bread and the biscuit smell just the same," said Thore the
Hound; "in fact, it is the air that smells like a menagerie."

"Boys," cried Wolf-in-the-Temple, "do you see that track in the mud?"

"Yes; it is the track of a barefooted man," suggested the innocent
Skull-Splitter.

Ironbeard and Erling the Lop-Sided flung themselves down among the
stones and investigated the tracks; and they were no longer in doubt as
to where the pungent wild odor came from, which they had attributed to
the ham.

"Boys," said Erling, looking up with an excited face, "a she-bear with
one or two cubs has been here within a few minutes."

"This is her drinking-place," said Ironbeard: "the tracks are many and
well-worn; if she hasn't been here this morning, she is sure to come
before long."

"We are in luck indeed," Wolf-in-the-Temple observed, coolly; "we
needn't go far for our bear. He will be coming for us."

At that moment the note of an Alpine horn was heard; but it was
impossible to determine how far it was away; for the echo took up the
note and flung it back and forth with clear and strong reverberations
from mountain to mountain.

"It is Brumle-Knute who is calling us," said Thore the Hound. "The
dairymaid must have released him. Shall we answer?"

"Never," cried the chief, proudly; "I forbid you to answer. Here we have
our hero