SPECKLED TROUT. 127 



Getting the direction of the sound, he went picking 

 his way over the rough, uneven ground, and when 

 he got where the light failed him, poking every 

 doubtful object with the end of his gun. Presently 

 he poked a light grayish object, like a large round 

 stone, which surprised him by moving off. On this 

 hint he fired, making an incurable wound in the 

 " porcupig," which, nevertheless, tried harder than 

 ever to escape. I lay listening when, close on the 

 heels of the report of the gun, came excited shouts 

 for a revolver. Snatching up my Smith and Wes- 

 son, I hastened, shoeless and hatless, to the scene of 

 action, wondering what was up. I found my com- 

 panion struggling to detain, with the end of the gun, 

 an uncertain object that was trying to crawl off into 

 the darkness. " Look out ! " said Orville, as he saw 

 my bare feet, " the quills are lying thick around 

 here." 



And so they were ; he had blown or beaten them 

 nearly all off the poor creature's back, and was in a 

 fair way completely to disable my gun, the ramrod 

 of which was already broken and splintered clubbing 

 his victim. But a couple of shots from the revolver, 

 sighted by a lighted match, at the head of the animal, 

 quickly settled him. 



It proved to be an unusually large Canada por- 

 cupine, an old patriarch, gray and venerable, with 

 spines three inches long, and weighing, I should say, 

 twenty pounds. The build of this animal is much 

 like that of the woodchuck, that is, heavy and 



