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"He's on the trail this time," said Sam, with restored admiration for the hound, "and if he does well, I'll consider him a great deal better hunting dog than he has shown himself yet." In fact, Bowser acted as if anxious to redeem his tainted reputation, and, trotting quite briskly, was soon out of sight among the trees, the lads hurrying after him.
Bowser held them up as quickly as if the order had come down the barrel of a Winchester. "And ye oughter see him draw. Gee! if I could draw like him I wouldn't do nothin' else. But I ain't never had nothin' in my head like that. A feller's got to have sumpin' besides school-larnin' to draw like him. Now you're a sketch-artist, and know.
Hard crusted snow covered the ground, but it was better than walking on the ice and for this Bowser was thankful. Which way should he turn? Where should he go? Night was coming on; he was wet, cold and hungry, and as utterly lost as ever a dog was. Poor Bowser! For a minute or two he sat down and howled from sheer lonesomeness and discouragement. How he did wish he had left Old Man Coyote alone!
Then, too, he was very, very stiff from the cold and the wetting he had received the night before. So poor Bowser made slow work of it, and Blacky the Crow almost lost patience waiting for him to appear. As soon as Bowser came in sight, Blacky gave what was intended for a cheery caw and then headed straight for the place he had started for that morning, giving no more thought to Bowser the Hound.
"They would make a great racket and waken Bowser the Hound, and he would waken his master, and that is just what we mustn't do if we hope to ever get in here again. I thought you had more sense, Reddy." Reddy looked a little shamefaced. "Well, if we don't do that, how are we going to get them? We can't fly," he grumbled.
He will follow it until he cannot follow it any longer. But for once Bowser actually forgot that he was following Reddy Fox. Yes, Sir, he did. As he came down that old road with his nose in Reddy's tracks, he was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't see Farmer Brown's boy waiting for him. He didn't see him until he almost ran into him. For just a second Bowser stared in utter surprise.
Then they ran off as fast as their legs could carry them to tell the good news. There was not a happier, prouder family in all Acadia that night than the Lloyds. Mr. Bowser and Frank came in to exchange congratulations, and they rejoiced together over the boys' success. Mr. Bowser was as delighted over Frank's passing as Mr. Lloyd was over Bert's scholarship.
"I'm not afraid of anything," said Reddy Fox, and swelled himself up to look twice as big as he really is. "It seems to me I hear Bowser the Hound," piped up Striped Chipmunk. "Who's afraid of that fellow?" Now Striped Chipmunk had not heard Bowser the Hound at all when he spoke, but just then there was the patter of heavy feet among the dried leaves, and sure enough there was Bowser himself.
Once I met Bowser on his way to his work, a roll of theatre-bills under his arm. He had gone back to his trade and was working in a shop on Fourteenth Street. His account of what had happened after the death of "the Missus" only confirmed my fears.
"So saying I went to the peach basket, where Bowser was vainly endeavoring to get the peaches out, and opened the fastenings, while he hopped around me on his huge legs and uttered his strange chuckling laugh. I picked out a few dozen of the ripest for the old lady, and let Bowser have the rest, which we left him swallowing greedily.
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