And so it proved. A shot brought the animal tumbling down. Toby picked it up gingerly by a leg and carried it back.
"Well, now! Fresh meat the first night!" boomed Skipper Zeb. "Whilst you lads tidy the tilt, I'll skin he."
In a few minutes Skipper Zeb had the porcupine skinned and dressed, and after washing the meat in the river and cutting it into convenient sections he placed it in a kettle of water to stew for supper.
Two Indian flatsleds or toboggans, which were standing on end against the tilt, were put into repair by Skipper Zeb and made ready for the journey on the morrow, and before dark all preparations for an early departure were completed.
It was snug and cozy now in the tilt, with the fire in the little tent stove cracking and snapping. The air was spicy sweet with the odour of the spruce and balsam beds, but to the boys a still more delicious and appealing odour was given out by the kettle of stewing porcupine on the stove. Presently when supper was served Charley declared that the meal more than fulfilled his expectations.
"Why, it makes me think of lamb," he said, "only it's a heap better than any stewed lamb I ever ate. It's just great!"
"'Twere young and fat," said Skipper Zeb. "We likes porcupine wonderful well. 'Tis a fine treat we thinks."
Before daybreak the following morning loads were lashed upon the two flatsleds, and all was made ready for the trail. Snow was not deep enough to require the use of snowshoes, and they were tied securely upon the tops of the loads.
"All ready!" announced Skipper Zeb, in his big hearty voice, as dawn was breaking. "I'll be goin' ahead with the heavy flatsled, and you lads takes turns haulin' the other. Toby b'y, you take the first turn at un."
"Aye," agreed Toby eagerly, "I'll haul un a spell first."