III.  THE TROUT POOL

Jack was now growing into a sturdy cub, and he would follow Kellyan even as far as Bonamy’s shack.  One day, as they watched him rolling head over heels in riotous glee, Kellyan remarked to his friend:  “I’m afraid some one will happen on him an’ shoot him in the woods for a wild B’ar.”

“Then why don’t you ear-mark him with them thar new sheep-rings?” was the sheep-man’s suggestion.

Thus it was that, much against his will, Jack’s ears were punched and he was decorated with earrings like a prize ram.  The intention was good, but they were neither ornamental nor comfortable.  Jack fought them for days, and when at length he came home trailing a branch that was caught in the jewel of his left ear, Kellyan impatiently removed them.

At Bonamy’s he formed two new acquaintances, a blustering, bullying old ram that was “in storage” for a sheep-herder acquaintance, and which inspired him with a lasting enmity for everything that smelt of sheep—­and Bonamy’s dog.

This latter was an active, yapping, unpleasant cur that seemed to think it rare fun to snap at Jacky’s heels, then bound out of reach.  A joke is a joke, but this horrid beast did not know where to stop, and Jack’s first and second visits to the Bonamy hut were quite spoiled by the tyranny of the dog.  If Jack could have got hold of him he might have settled the account to his own satisfaction, but he was not quick enough for that.  His only refuge was up a tree.  He soon discovered that he was happier away from Bonamy’s, and thenceforth when he saw his protector take the turn that led to the miner’s cabin, Jack said plainly with a look, “No, thank you,” and turned back to amuse himself at home.

His enemy, however, often came with Bonamy to the hunter’s cabin, and there resumed his amusement of teasing the little Bear.  It proved so interesting a pursuit that the dog learned to come over on his own account whenever he felt like having some fun, until at length Jack was kept in continual terror of the yellow cur.  But it all ended very suddenly.

One hot day, while the two men smoked in front of Kellyan’s house, the dog chased Jack up a tree and then stretched himself out for a pleasant nap in the shade of its branches.  Jack was forgotten as the dog slumbered.  The little Bear kept very quiet for a while, then, as his twinkling brown eyes came back to that hateful dog, that he could neither catch nor get away from, an idea seemed to grow in his small brain.  He began to move slowly and silently down the branch until he was over the foe, slumbering, twitching his limbs, and making little sounds that told of dreams of the chase, or, more likely, dreams of tormenting a helpless Bear cub.  Of course, Jack knew nothing of that.  His one thought, doubtless, was that he hated that cur and now he could vent his hate.  He came just over the tyrant, and taking careful aim, he jumped and landed squarely on the dog’s ribs.  It was a terribly rude awakening, but the dog gave no yelp, for the good reason that the breath was knocked out of his body.  No bones were broken, though he was barely able to drag himself away in silent defeat, while Jacky played a lively tune on his rear with paws that were fringed with meat-hooks.