ything," said Hughie,
confidently.

To their great relief they saw the minister set off in the opposite
direction across the fields.

"Thank goodness! He's off to the McRae's," said Hughie.

"Now, then," said Don, "we'll go back to the track there, and put the
dogs on. You go on with Fido." And Hughie set off with Fido pulling
eagerly upon the string.

When they reached the spot where Fido had been seized by Hughie,
suddenly the black dog who had been following Don at some distance,
stopped short and began to growl. In a moment his mate threw up his nose
and began sniffing about, the hair rising stiff upon his back.

"He's catching it," said Don, in an excited tone. "Here, you hold him. I
must get the other one, or he'll be off." He was not a minute too soon,
for the other dog, who had been ranging about, suddenly found the trail,
and with a fierce, short bark, was about to dash off when Don threw
himself upon him. In a few moments both dogs were on the leash, and set
off upon the scent at a great pace. The trail was evidently plain enough
to the dogs, for they followed hard, leading the boys deeper and deeper
into the bush.

"He's making for the Big Swamp," said Don, and on they went, with eyes
and ears on the alert, expecting every moment to hear the snort of a
bear, or to meet him on the further side of every bunch of underbrush.

For an hour they went on at a steady trot, over and under fallen logs,
splashing through water holes, crashing over dead brushwood, and tearing
through the interlacing boughs of the thick underbrush of spruce and
balsam. The black dogs never hesitated. They knew well what was their
business there, and that they kept strictly in mind. Fido, on the other
hand, who loved to roam the woods in an aimless hunt for any and every
wild thing that might cross his nose, but who never had seriously hunted
anything in particular, trotted good-naturedly behind Hughie with rather
a bored expression on his face.

The trail, which had led them steadily north, all at once turned west
and away from the swamp.

"Say," said Don, "he's making for Alan Gorrach's cabin."

"Man!" said Hughie, "that would be fine, to get him there. It's good and
open, too."

"Too open by a long way," grunted Don. "We'd never get him there."

Sure enough, the dogs led up from the swamp and along the path to Alan's
cabin. The door stood open, and in answer to Don's "Horo!" Alan came
out.

"What now?" he said, glowerin