He returned in a few minutes WITH the bear, DRIVING IT INTO the unarmed circle and scattering the whole party.

After this the theory of his being a hunting dog was abandoned.

Yet it was said--on the usual uncorroborated evidence--that he had "put up" a quail; and his qualities as a retriever were for a long time accepted, until, during a shooting expedition for wild ducks, it was discovered that the one he had brought back had never been shot, and the party were obliged to compound damages with an adjacent settler.
His fondness for paddling in the ditches and "slumgullion" at one time suggested a water spaniel.

He could swim, and would occasionally bring out of the river sticks and pieces of bark that had been thrown in; but as HE always had to be thrown in with them, and was a good-sized dog, his aquatic reputation faded also.

He remained simply "a yaller dog." What more could be said?
His actual name was "Bones"-- given to him, no doubt, through the provincial custom of confounding the occupation of the individual with his quality, for which it was pointed out precedent could be found in some old English family names.
But if Bones generally exhibited no preference for any particular individual in camp, he always made an exception in favor of drunkards.
Even an ordinary roistering bacchanalian party brought him out from under a tree or a shed in the keenest satisfaction.