To pull a heavy boat up this incline and over the half mile to the launching place above, was no small undertaking.

Everything was unloaded, the craft brought ash.o.r.e, and ropes which were carried for the purpose attached to the bow. Then round sticks of wood, for rollers, were placed under it, and while d.i.c.k and Ed hauled, Bob and Bill pushed and lifted and kept the rollers straight. In this manner, with infinite labour, it was worked to the top of the hill and step by step hauled over the portage to the place where it was to enter the water again. It was nearly sunset when they completed their task and turned back to bring up their things from below.

They had retraced their steps but a few yards when d.i.c.k, who was ahead, darted off to the left of the trail with the exclamation:

"An' here's some fresh meat for supper."

It was a porcupine lumbering awkwardly away. He easily killed it with a stick, and picking it up by its tail, was about to turn back into the trail when a fresh axe cutting caught his eye.

"Now who's been here, lads?" said he, looking at it closely. "None o'

th' planters has been inside of th' Traverspine, an' no Mountaineers has left th' post yet."

The others joined him and scrutinized the cutting, then looked for other human signs. Near by they found the charred wood of a recent fire and some spruce boughs that had served for a bed within a day or two, which was proved by their freshly broken ends. It had been the couch of a single man.

"Micmac John, sure!" said Ed.

"An' what's he doin' here?" asked Bill. "He has no traps or huntin'

grounds handy t' this."

"I'm thinkin' 'tis no good he's after," said d.i.c.k. "'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 d.i.c.k, who superintended the cooking, pulled it out, sc.r.a.ped 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 sc.r.a.p 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. For several days this method of travel continued--tracking it is called. Sometimes the men were forced along the sides of almost perpendicular banks, often they waded in the water and frequently met obstacles like projecting cliffs, around which they pa.s.sed with the greatest difficulty.

At the Porcupine Rapids everything was lashed securely into the boat, as a precaution in case of accident, but they overcame the rapid without mishap, and finally they reached Gull Island Lake, a broadening of the river in safety, and were able to resume their oars again. It was a great relief after the long siege of tracking, and Ed voiced the feelings of all in the remark:

"Pullin' at th' oars is hard when ye has nothin' harder t' do, but trackin's so much harder, pullin' seems easy alongside un."

"Aye," said d.i.c.k, "th' thing a man's doin's always the hardest work un ever done. 'Tis because ye forgets how hard th' things is that ye've done afore."

"An' it's just the same in winter. When a frosty spell comes folks thinks 'tis th' frostiest time they ever knew. If '_twere_, th'

winters, I 'lows'd be gettin' so cold folks couldn't stand un. I recollects one frosty spell----"

"Now none o' yer yarns, Ed. Th' Lord'll be strikin' ye dead in His anger _some day_ when ye're tellin' what ain't so."

"I tells no yarns as ain't so, an' I can prove un all--leastways I could a proved this un, only it so happens as I were alone. As I was sayin', 'twere so cold one night last winter that when I was boilin'

o' my kettle an' left th' door o' th' tilt open for a bit while I steps outside, th' wind blowin' in on th' kettle all th' time hits th'

steam at th' spout--an' what does ye think I sees when I comes in?"

"Ye sees steam, o' course, an' what else could ye see, now?"

"'Twere so cold--that wind--blowin' right on th' spout where th' steam comes out, when I comes in I looks an' I can't believe what I sees myself. Well, now, I sees th' steam froze solid, an' a string o' ice hangin' from th' spout right down t' th' floor o' th' tilt, an' th'

kettle boilin' merry all th' time. That's what I sees, an'----"

"Now stop yer lyin', Ed. Ye knows no un----"

"A bear! A bear!" interrupted Bob, excitedly. "See un! See un there comin' straight to that rock!"

Sure enough, a couple Of hundred yards away a big black bear was lumbering right down towards them, and if it kept its course would pa.s.s a large boulder standing some fifty yards back from the river bank. The animal had not seen the boat nor scented the men, for the wind was blowing from it towards them.

"Run her in here," said Bob, indicating a bit of bank out of the bear's range of vision, "an' let me ash.o.r.e t' have a chance at un."

The instant the boat touched land he grabbed his gun--a single-barrelled, muzzle loader--bounded noiselessly ash.o.r.e, and stooping low gained the shelter of the boulder un.o.bserved.

The unsuspecting bear came leisurely on, bent, no doubt, upon securing a drink of water to wash down a feast of blueberries of which it had just partaken, and seemingly occupied by the pleasant reveries that follow a good meal and go with a full stomach. Bob could hear it coming now, and raised his gun ready to give it the load the moment it pa.s.sed the rock. Then, suddenly, he remembered that he had loaded the gun that morning with shot, when hunting a flock of partridges, and had failed to reload with ball. To kill a bear with a partridge load of shot was out of the question, and to wound the bear at close quarters was dangerous, for a wounded bear with its enemy within reach is pretty sure to retaliate.

Just at the instant this thought flashed through Bob's mind the big black side of the bear appeared not ten feet from the muzzle of his gun, and before the lad realized it he had pulled the trigger.

Bob did not stop to see the result of the shot, but ran at full speed towards the boat. The bear gave an angry growl, and for a moment bit at the wound in its side, then in a rage took after him.

It was not over fifty yards to the boat, and though Bob had a few seconds the start, the bear seemed likely to catch him before he could reach it, for clumsy though they are in appearance, they are fast travellers when occasion demands. Half the distance was covered in a jiffy, but the bear was almost at his heels. A few more leaps and he would be within reach of safety. He could fairly feel the bear's breath. Then his foot caught a projecting branch and he fell at full length directly in front of the infuriated animal.

IV

SWEPT AWAY IN THE RAPIDS

When Bob went ash.o.r.e d.i.c.k followed as far as a clump of bushes at the top of the bank below which the boat was concealed, and crouching there witnessed Bob's flight from the bear, and was very close to him when he fell. d.i.c.k had already drawn a bead on the animal's head, and just at the moment Bob stumbled fired. The bear made one blind strike with his paw and then fell forward, its momentum sending it upon Bob's sprawling legs, d.i.c.k laughed uproariously at the boy as he extricated himself.

"Well, now," he roared, "'twere as fine a race as I ever see--as I _ever_ see--an' ye were handy t' winnin' but for th' tumble. A rare fine race."

Bob was rather shamefaced, for an old hunter would scarcely have forgotten himself to such an extent as to go bear hunting with a partridge load in his gun, and he did not like to be laughed at.

"Anyhow," said he, "I let un have un first. An' I led un down where you could shoot un. An' he's a good fat un," he commented kicking the carca.s.s.

Ed and Bill had arrived now and all hands went to work at once skinning the bear.

"Speakin' o' bein' chased by bears," remarked Ed as they worked, "onct I were chased pretty hard myself an' that time I come handy t' bein'

done for sure enough."

"An' how were that?" asked Bob.

"'Twere one winter an' I were tendin' my trail. I stops at noon t'

boil th' kettle, an' just has th' fire goin' fine an' th' water over when all t' a sudden I hears a noise behind me and turnin' sees a black bear right handy t' me--th' biggest black bear I ever seen--an'

makin' fer me. I jumps up an' grabs my gun an' lets un have it, but wi' th' suddenness on it I misses, an' away I starts an' 'twere lucky I has my racquets on."

"Were this in _winter_?" asked d.i.c.k.

"It _were_ in winter."

"Th' bears as _I_ knows don't travel in winter. They sleeps then, leastways all but white bears."

"Well, this were in winter an' this bear weren't sleepin' much. As I was sayin'----"