the pins. And lo and behold! the goose was suspended before the
fire.

It hung low--just high enough to permit the placing of a dish under
it to catch the gravy. Now and then George gave it a twirl so that
none of its sides might have reason to complain at not receiving
its share of the heat. The lower end roasted first, seeing which,
George took the goose off, reversed it and set it twirling again.
After a time he sharpened a sliver of wood, stuck it into the goose
and examined the wound critically.

"Smells like a Christmas goose when one goes through the kitchen
dead hungry before dinner," said Hubbard.

"Um-m-n!" I commented.

In a little while George tried the sharp splinter again. Hubbard
and I watched him anxiously. White juice followed the stick. Two
hours had passed, and the goose was done!

Events now came crowding thick and fast. First, George put the
steaming brown goose in his mixing basin, and deftly and rapidly
disjointed it with his sheath knife. Meanwhile, with nervous
haste, Hubbard and I had drawn our knives, and with the tin basin
of goose before us, all three of us plumped down in a half-circle
on the thick moss in the light of the bright-blazing fire. Many of
the rules of etiquette were waived. We stood not on the order of
our falling to, but fell to at once. We eat, and we eat, at first
ravenously, then more slowly. With his mouth full of the succulent
bird, George allowed he would rather have goose than caribou. "I