pine. He shook himself,
stretched, wobbled around a moment, as if his long roll had made him
dizzy; then he meandered aimlessly along the foot of the ridge, his
quills stuck full of dead leaves, looking big and strange enough to
frighten anything that might meet him in the woods.

Here was a new trick, a new problem concerning one of the stupidest of
all the wood folk. When you meet a porcupine and bother him, he usually
rolls himself into a huge pincushion with all its points outward, covers
his face with his thorny tail, and lies still, knowing well that you
cannot touch him anywhere without getting the worst of it. Now had he
been bothered by some animal and rolled himself up where it was so steep
that he lost his balance, and so tumbled unwillingly down the long hill;
or, with his stomach full of sweet beechnuts, had he rolled down lazily
to avoid the trouble of walking; or is Unk Wunk brighter than he looks
to discover the joy of roller coasting and the fun of feeling dizzy
afterwards?

There was nothing on the hill above, no rustle or suggestion of any
hunting animal to answer the question; so I followed Unk Wunk on his
aimless wanderings along the foot of the ridge.

A slight movement far ahead caught my eye, and I saw a hare gliding and
dodging among the brown ferns. He came slowly in our direction, hopping
and halting and wiggling his nose at every bush, till he heard our
approach and rose on his hind legs to listen. He gave a great jump as
Unk Wunk hove into sight, covered all over with the dead leaves that
his barbed quills had picked up on his way downhill, and lay quiet where
he thought the ferns would hide him.

The procession drew nearer. Moktaques, full of curiosity, lifted his
head cautiously out of the ferns and sat up straight on his haunches
again, his paws crossed, his eyes shining in fear and curiosity at the
strange animal rustling along and taking the leaves with him. For a
moment wonder held him as still as the stump beside him; then he bolted
into the bush in a series of high, scared jumps, and I heard him
scurrying crazily in a half circle around us.

[Illustration]

Unk Wunk gave no heed to the interruption, but yew-yawed hither and yon
after his stupid nose. Like every other porcupine that I have followed,
he seemed to have nothing whatever to do, and nowhere in the wide world
to go. He loafed along lazily, too full to eat any of the beechnuts
that he nosed daintily out of the leaves.