incere. He had not
eaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To my
surprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, he
seemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in his
little eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in the
direction we wanted to go, I gave him slack rope and followed.

"Wal, you're goin' to have a right pert time, youngster, an' don't you
forget it," said Hiram Bent.

The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let well
enough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted to
choke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was three
times as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out for
me. The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more I
determined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to the
time he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easily
he roused my anger after that. What would have happened had he taken
a notion to go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, which
certainly was rough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping my
feet free of roots and rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I had
no concern about this, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew he
would keep a sharp lookout.

Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into a
valley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We were
getting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started up
the left slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, and
that was the only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and so
I gathered that the direction suited him. By leaning back on the rope
I walked up the slope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubby
pulled me up; I had only to move my feet. When we reached a level once
more I discovered that the cub was growing stronger and wanted to go
faster. We zigzagged across the ridge to the next canyon, which at a
glance I saw was deep and steep.

"Thet'll be some work goin' down that!" called Hiram. "Let me pack your
gun."

I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? I
could not let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could not
catch up with me. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lunged
forward and down.

This first downward jump was not vicious--only a playful one perhaps