Billy, the Dog That Made Good 
the thought flashed up, ‘‘Which of us will come 
back alive?” Oh, what a din those dogs were 
making! Every one of them was in that chorus. 
Yapping and baying, high and low, swaying this 
way and that, which meant the Bear was charging 
back and forth, had still some measure of freedom. 
“Look out now! Don’t get too close!” said 
Yancy. “Log and all, he can cover fifty feet 
while you make ten, and I tell you he won’t bother 
about the dogs if he gets a chance at the men. He 
knows his game.” 
THE FIERY FURNACE AND THE GOLD 
There were more thrills in the woods than the 
mere sounds or expectations accounted for. My 
hand trembled as I scrambled over the down tim- 
ber. It was a moment of fierce excitement as I 
lifted the last limbs, and got my first peep. But it 
was a disappointment. There was the pack, bound- 
ing, seething, yelling, and back of some brush was 
some brown fur, that was all. But suddenly the 
brushwood swayed and forth rushed a shaggy 
mountain of flesh, a tremendous Grizzly—I never 
knew one could look so big—and charged at his 
tormentors: they scattered like flies when one 
strikes at a gathered swarm. 
But the log on the trap caught on a stump and 
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