shouted, we threw our hats in the air and shouted again. Lifting
the birds critically, we estimated that we had on hand about fifty
pounds of goose meat.

More luck came to us that same day when we halted for luncheon at
the foot of some rapid water. As soon as we stopped, Hubbard, as
usual, cast a fly, and almost immediately landed a half-pound
trout. Then, as fast as I could split them and George fry them,
another and another, all big ones, fell a victim to his skill. The
result was that we had all the trout we could eat that noon, and we
ate a good many.

It was late in the afternoon when we reached the point where the
two brooks joined to form Goose Creek. Our scouting was finished
in less than two hours, and we went into camp early: for, as
Hubbard expressed it, we were to have a "heap big feed," and George
reminded us that it would take a good while to roast a goose. Our
camp was pitched at the foot of a semi-barren ridge a half-mile
above the junction of the brooks. George built a big fire--much
bigger than usual. At the back he placed the largest green log he
could find. Just in front of the fire, and at each side, he fixed
a forked stake, and on these rested a cross pole. From the centre
of the pole he suspended a piece of stout twine, which reached
nearly to the ground, and tied the lower end into a noose.

Then it was that the goose, nicely prepared for cooking, was
brought forth. Through it at the wings George stuck a sharp wooden
pin, leaving the ends to protrude on each side. Through the legs
he stuck a similar pin in a similar fashion. This being done, he
slipped the noose at the end of the twine over the ends of one of