put him up," but the Dog stirred not. "Go ahead," and
Caleb gave him a rap with a small stick. The Dog dodged away, but lay
down again, panting.

"What was it, Mr. Clark?" demanded Yan.

"Don't hardly know. Maybe he only spiked himself on a snag. But this
is sure; there's no Coons here to-night. There won't be after this. We
come too early, and it's too hot for the Dog, anyway."

"We could cross the creek and go into Boyle's bush," suggested the
Woodpecker. "We're like to strike anything there. Larry de Neuville
swears he saw a Unicorn there the night he came back from Garney's
wake."

"How can you tell the kind of game by the Dog's barking?" asked Yan.

"H-m!" answered Caleb, as he put a fresh quid in his lantern jaw. "You
surely can if you know the country an' the game an' the Dog. Course,
no two Dogs is alike; you got to study your Dog, an' if he's good
he'll larn you lots about trailing."

The brook was nearly dry now, so they crossed where they would. Then
feeling their way through the dark woods with eyes for the most part
closed, they groped toward Boyle's open field, then across it to the
heavy timber. Turk had left them at the brook, and, following its
course till he came to a pool, had had a bath. As they entered the
timber tract he joined them, dripping wet and ready for business.

"Go ahead, Turk," and again all sat down to await the opinion of the
expert.

It came quickly. The old Hound, after circling about in a way that
seemed to prove him independent of daylight, began to sniff loudly,
and gave a low whine. He followed a little farther, and now his tail
was heard to '_tap, tap, tap_' the brush as he went through a dry
thicket.

"Hear that? He's got something this time," said Caleb in a low voice.
"Wait a little."

The Hound was already working out a puzzle, and when at last he got
far enough to be sure, he gave a short bark. There was another
spell of sniffing, then another bark, then several little barks at
intervals, and at last a short bay; then the baying recommenced, but
was irregular and not full-chested. The sounds told that the Hound was
running in a circle about the forest, but at length ceased moving,
for all the barking was at one place. When the hunters got there
they found the Dog half-way in a hole under a stump, barking and
scratching.

"Humph," said Caleb; "nothing but a Cottontail. Might 'a' knowed that
by the light scent an' the circling without treeing."

So Turk was