With
three or four strong strokes, Quonab gave a long and mighty
forward spurt; then reached for his gun. But the deer's white
flag went up. It turned and bounded away, the white flag the
last thing to disappear. Rolf sat spellbound. It was so sudden;
so easy; it soon melted into the woods again. He trembled after
it was gone.
Many a time in the evening they saw muskrats in the eddies, and
once they glimpsed a black, shiny something like a monstrous
leech rolling up and down as it travelled in the stream. Quonab
whispered, "Otter," and made ready his gun, but it dived and
showed itself no more. At one of the camps they were awakened by
an extraordinary tattoo in the middle of the night -- a harsh
rattle close by their heads; and they got up to find that a
porcupine was rattling his teeth on the frying-pan in an effort
to increase the amount of salt that he could taste on it.
Skookum, tied to a tree, was vainly protesting against the
intrusion and volunteered to make a public example of the
invader. The campers did not finally get rid of the spiny one
till all their kitchen stuff was hung beyond his reach.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117