Evidently it was a most excellent plan; and when the dog came around after that, or when Jack went to Bonamy’s with his master, as he soon again ventured to do, he would scheme with more or less success to “get the drop on the purp,” as the men put it.  The dog now rapidly lost interest in Bear-baiting, and in a short time it was a forgotten sport.

IV.  THE STREAM THAT SANK IN THE SAND

Jack was funny; Jill was sulky.  Jack was petted and given freedom, so grew funnier; Jill was beaten and chained, so grew sulkier.  She had a bad name and she was often punished for it; it is usually so.

One day, while Lan was away, Jill got free and joined her brother.  They broke into the little storehouse and rioted among the provisions.  They gorged themselves with the choicest sorts; and the common stuffs, like flour, butter, and baking-powder, brought fifty miles on horseback, were good enough only to be thrown about the ground or rolled in.  Jack had just torn open the last bag of flour, and Jill was puzzling over a box of miner’s dynamite, when the doorway darkened and there stood Kellyan, a picture of amazement and wrath.  Little Bears do not know anything about pictures, but they have some acquaintance with wrath.  They seemed to know that they were sinning, or at least in danger, and Jill sneaked, sulky and snuffy, into a dark corner, where she glared defiantly at the hunter.  Jack put his head on one side, then, quite forgetful of all his misbehavior, he gave a delighted grunt, and scuttling toward the man, he whined, jerked his nose, and held up his sticky, greasy arms to be lifted and petted as though he were the best little Bear in the world.

[Illustration:  “Jack ...  Held up his sticky, greasy arms”]

Alas, how likely we are to be taken at our own estimate!  The scowl faded from the hunter’s brow as the cheeky and deplorable little Bear began to climb his leg.  “You little divil,” he growled, “I’ll break your cussed neck”; but he did not.  He lifted the nasty, sticky little beast and fondled him as usual, while Jill, no worse—­even more excusable, because less trained—­suffered all the terrors of his wrath and was double-chained to the post, so as to have no further chance of such ill-doing.

This was a day of bad luck for Kellyan.  That morning he had fallen and broken his rifle.  Now, on his return home, he found his provisions spoiled, and a new trial was before him.

A stranger with a small pack-train called at his place that evening and passed the night with him.  Jack was in his most frolicsome mood and amused them both with tricks half-puppy and half-monkey like, and in the morning, when the stranger was leaving, he said:  “Say, pard, I’ll give you twenty-five dollars for the pair.”  Lan hesitated, thought of the wasted provisions, his empty purse, his broken rifle, and answered:  “Make it fifty and it’s a go.”