Back of the larger, stronger ones travelled the less fleet of foot, the more timid of the wild things. Among these were the porcupines, Unk-Wunk and his mate. Most of them were headed for Balsam Swamp, for there, instinctively, they knew they would find water, because deep in the swamp lay Black Pond, a never-failing water hole, which had its source in many a mountain stream. If they only could get to the water then they would be safe.
Never in all his lifetime had Unk-Wunk travelled so fast, and they were even then far behind the others; surely they would be caught by the fire. Already, in spite of their protecting quills, the porcupines began to feel the scorching breath of the flames close behind them. Old Unk-Wunk was almost spent and deliberately halted right in his tracks. His usually half-shut eyes were strained with anxiety; besides they smarted and stung from the smoke. He was almost tempted to lie right down and give up the awful chase, to defy the cruel thing which was even now scorching and blistering his tired feet. His mate, always following his example, would, of course, do exactly as he did; in fact, she would have followed him straight back into the flames.
But no, Unk-Wunk was not ready to give up. Instead, grunting, scrambling, hastening as fast as he was able, the porcupine suddenly and deliberately left the trail; it looked almost as if he were going straight into the track of the fire. He managed to reach a certain flat, shelving ledge, which was just ahead of the fire. Then rolling himself into a round ball, he lay down upon the high ledge and rolled right off into space, landing some distance down below upon another ridge of rock. In between the rocky ledges he crept, where the moisture trickled constantly down from above, making it cold and wet; right close to the great rocky ridge he lay and waited. The next instant down tumbled another round, quilly ball from the ledge above. It was his mate; the faithful thing had followed Unk-Wunk, just as he knew she would do. There in the cool, moist-laden rock they clung tight together and went fast asleep, too weary and scorched and terror-stricken to move; and the great fire raged around them, but when it came to the ridge, it leaped right over the spot where they lay, and they were safe.
Most of the more fortunate fleet-footed wild animals managed to reach Balsam Swamp. There the great snowy owl finally settled, and makes her nest there each year. The eagles built their nest above upon a ledge, and the heron tribe located close by. But Moween, the little black bear and her cubs, went back to the forest and made her den right beneath the ridge where Unk-Wunk and his mate found safety, so that the porcupines and the bears have ever since been near neighbours.
The spot has for many years been known as Porcupine Ridge. Almost any time, if you stray that way, and care for a stiff climb, you can pick up quantities of loose quills near the spot, and sometimes you may even run across a quilly ball lying right on top of the ledge, or catch one of the numerous porcupine family picking its way leisurely among the rocks. So now you can fully understand why this particular spot has always been called Porcupine Ridge, because it was really settled by none other than old Unk-Wunk and his mate at the time of the great forest fire.
CHAPTER VI
METHUSELAH, THE TYRANT OF BLACK POND
Methuselah, the Tyrant, was very old, so old that none of the inhabitants of the pond could have told you his exact age. Like the knights of old he, too, wore armour, which served very well to protect him and turn aside many a stray bullet or dangerous missile aimed in his direction. In fact, Methuselah, the giant snapping turtle of Black Pond, appeared to have led a sort of charmed life, escaping all kinds of dangers in the most lucky manner, and absolutely ruling over all wild things which came near or made their homes in or about the pond.
If the old Tyrant wore knightly armour, he in no other respect resembled the brave knights of ancient days, for by nature he was malicious, sly and wicked. And, if the truth were only known, a very great glutton. Just as soon as the frost left the strata of mud above him where he had wintered, old Methuselah would rouse himself for action. Quite torpid at first, he would crawl to some spot where the sun might strike his chilled, mud-caked shell, and gradually thaw out. Soon would commence his eager search for food, and in early spring he made regular hourly trips around the pond, gobbling up the very first young things which had come out of winter quarters, usually small tender frogs. He loved to lie motionless near the surface of the water, sending up pearly air bubbles through his horny snout, waving a flipper idly, just to keep his huge shell afloat, looking precisely like a round-topped rock, for the old fellow's back was rough and so moss-grown that he resembled a stone more than anything living. But all the while his cold, wicked-looking eyes, when not shaded by their filmy lids, were quite watchful and always on the alert, and his wrinkled neck was ever in readiness to dart out like a flash to snap up anything which came his way.
Snap, snap, would crash his horny, toothless jaws, closing over one after another of the unsuspecting minnow shoals as they slid by him. As for the catfish, with their terrible lance-like spines, rising just behind their gills, and which every boy who goes fishing dreads more than anything—they never bothered the old Tyrant; his armour protected him so well he feared nothing. His hard, warty fore legs were so tough and strong, they could ward off anything troublesome; besides, they were armed with sharp black claws. Usually, Methuselah would come upon the catfish from beneath the shoal; a swift snap of his scaly jaws and he had taken a bite from a pearl-white stomach, thus escaping the horn, and discarding every portion of the fish but the choicest morsels. Sometimes, so silently did the old Tyrant approach the shoal from beneath, that he would succeed in snapping several fish even before the leader of the shoal knew what was going on behind him.