"'Tis sure he, an'
he'll be givin' us trouble, stealin' our fur an' maybe worse. But if
_I_ gets hold o' he, he'll be sorry for his meddlin', if meddlin' he's
after, an' it's sure all he's here for."
They hurried back to pitch camp, and when the fire was made the
porcupine was thrown upon the blaze, and allowed to remain there until
its quills and hair were scorched to a cinder. Then Dick, who
superintended the cooking, pulled it out, scraped it and dressed it.
On either side of the fire he drove a stake and across the tops of
these stakes tied a cross pole. From the centre of this pole the
porcupine was suspended by a string, so that it hung low and near
enough to the fire to roast nicely, while it was twirled around on the
string. It was soon sending out a delicious odour, and in an hour was
quite done, and ready to be served. A dainty morsel it was to the
hungry voyageurs, resembling in some respects roast pig, and every
scrap of it they devoured.
The next morning all the goods were carried over the portage, and a
wearisome fight began against the current of the river, which was so
swift above this point as to preclude sailing or even rowing. A rope
was tied to the bow of the boat and on this three of the men hauled,
while the other stood in the craft and with a pole kept it clear of
rocks and other obstructions.
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