Everything was unloaded, the craft brought ashore, 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 Dick 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 Dick, 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 Dick. “‘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.  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 passed with the greatest difficulty.