Dad snapped his fingers angrily and cried: "Where the devil was the DOG ?" "Oh, where the devil wuz the DORG ?" Dave growled, sliding down the tree--"where th' devil wuz YOU?
Where wuz the lot o' y' ?" "Ah, well!" Dad said "-- there's plenty more we can get.

Come along." And off we went.

The dog pulled himself together and limped after us.
Bears were plentiful enough, but we wandered far before we found another on a tree that Dave could climb, and, when we DID, somehow or other the limb broke when he put his weight on it, and down he came, bear and all.

Of course we were not ready, and that bear, like the other, got up another tree.

But Dave did n't.