ian laughed. "No, she is running yet. Black bear always a coward;
they never fight when they can run away."

The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the
hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on,
but an ample salvation. "We don't need the meat and can't carry it
with us; let's leave them," said Rolf, but added, "Will they find their
mother?"

"Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over woods. She will hang
round half a mile away and by night all will be together."

Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, not a bear wounded,
not a mile travelled, and not an hour lost. And yet it seemed much more
full of interesting thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear
hunts that Rolf and Quonab shared together in the days that were to
come.

Chapter 19. The Footprint on the Shore

Jesup's River was a tranquil stream that came from a region of swamps,
and would have been easy canoeing but for the fallen trees. Some of
these had been cut years ago, showing that the old trapper had used this
route. Once they were unpleasantly surprised by seeing a fresh chopping
on the bank, but their mourning was changed into joy when they found it
was beaver-work.

Ten miles they made that day. In the evening they camped on the shore of
Jesup's Lake, proud and happy in the belief that they were the rightful
owners of it all. That night they heard again and again the howling of
wolves, but it seemed on the far side of the lake. In the morning they
went out on foot to explore, and at once had the joy of seeing five
deer, while tracks showed on every side. It was evidently a paradise for
deer, and there were in less degree the tracks of other animals--mink in
fair abundance, one or two otters, a mountain lion, and a cow moose with
her calf. It was thrilling to see such a feast of possibilities. The
hunters were led on and on, revelling in the prospect of many joys
before them, when all at once they came on something that turned their
joy to grief--the track of a man; the fresh imprint of a cowhide boot.
It was maddening. At first blush, it meant some other trapper ahead of
them with a prior claim to the valley; a claim that the unwritten law
would allow. They followed it a mile. It went striding along the shore
at a great pace, sometimes running, and keeping down the west shore.
Then they found a place where he had sat down and broken a lot of clam
shells, and again had