“I hope not,” said Jack.
A little later they turned about to return to camp, following the same trail by which they had come up. As they were going down through the timber, Hugh drew up his horse and pointed out to Jack a porcupine waddling slowly over the snow. “There is some game for you, son, if you want it,” he said, “but I wouldn’t waste a cartridge on it. If you want to kill it, knock it on the head with a club. Porcupine is pretty good meat—for those that like it. The Northern Indians, those that live in the timber at least, eat them whenever they can get hold of them.”
Jack dismounted, and getting a long stick, ran after the porcupine and poked it and the beast stopped, put its nose on the ground between its forepaws, erected its quills in all directions, and stood there thrashing with its great tail as if quite prepared for war. Jack gave it a poke or two and then examined some of the quills, which had been thrust into the end of the stick, and then returning to his horse, remounted and rode up beside the others.
“What,” said Hugh, “aren’t you going to take it along with you?”
“No,” said Jack, “I guess not. We’ve plenty of food in camp and this time I’ll keep myself from killing, instead of having you warn me.”
By the time they had started back, the sun had fallen behind the great peak that overhung their road, the air was cold, and the melting of the snow field had stopped. Here in these high mountains winter lingers long, and though in the middle of the day it may be warm, it is cold at night.
When they reached the point in the trail opposite where they had seen the bears earlier in the day, Jack and Joe dismounted and went to look down in the valley to see if they could discover them, but as they saw nothing, they went on.
When they came in sight of camp, however, it became evident that there was some excitement there. The horses were frightened and were running to and fro, apparently trying to pull up their picket pins; but what first attracted the attention of the men was the appearance of their tent, which seemed to have been taken down and transformed into a white bundle, moving a little now and then, but for the most part quite still.
Hugh looked for a moment and then said, “Come on, there is trouble down there, and I’m afraid some of those horses will get hurt if we don’t hurry.” He put spurs to his horse and galloped down the steep descent as if it had been a bit of level prairie. Jack and Joe, though both suspecting what had taken place, said nothing, but followed, and when they had crossed the little river and rode over the level meadow toward camp, Hugh was sitting on his horse by the tent, with as broad a smile on his face as Jack had ever seen. The tent, converted into a small bundle of less size than a barrel, though somewhat longer, was shivering and shaking, and from it came groans, growls and moans, which sounded mysterious but funny.
“That’s a comical thing,” said Hugh. “That’s one of the funniest things I ever saw. Do you know what’s inside that tent, son?” he added.