50 WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA 



of a very small village where the train dropped 

 me one cold, rainy morning led me to hire a 

 " rig " and drive many miles over roads which 

 were roads in Uttle more than name. For the long 

 winter frost, coming out of the ground, had con- 

 verted the road into a regular mire in which the 

 wheels sank nearly to the hubs and frequently 

 stuck in a most alarming way. Twice the decrepit 

 harness gave way under the unusual strain. The 

 prospects of ever reaching the httle mountain farm 

 were at times anything but promising, but by dint 

 of much coaxing, picturesquely intermixed with a 

 fair amount of " cussing " and a great deal of good 

 luck, we finally drew up at a small log house of 

 neat appearance. Now came the seemingly impos- 

 sible task of making a backwoodsman understand 

 that I wanted his help in connection with hunt- 

 ing for porcupines, and photographing the queer 

 beasts so as to fit the story. This meant bringing 

 in two characters, a man and a boy. The man 

 proved most intelligent, and even though he 

 regarded me for some time as a mild lunatic who 

 might without risk be humoured in his strange 

 whims and fancies, he promised all the help I 

 needed. One of his sons was about the age of the 

 boy in the story, so it only remained for us to find 

 the most important member — the porcupine. 



Now the finding of these animals is easy enough 

 in the regions where they abound, but finding them 

 and handhng them are by no means the same. 

 The porky has been said to have more good points 

 than any other animal, a sad but very true joke, 

 which can only be thoroughly appreciated by those 



