a distance of ten feet. She had a swift vision
of herself stuck full of quills, like a pincushion. At a distance of
eleven feet she stopped abruptly, and hurled the potato-masher with a
deadly energy which carried it clean over the barn. Then the
porcupines resumed their feasting, while she stared at them
helplessly. Two large tears of rage brimmed her eyes, and rolled down
her battered cheeks; and backing off a few paces she sat down upon the
saw-horse to consider the situation.

But never would Mrs. Gammit have been what she was had she been
capable of acknowledging defeat. In a very few moments her resourceful
wits reasserted themselves.

"Queer!" she mused. "One don't never kinder seem to hit what one aims
at! But one always hits _somethin'_! Leastways, I do! If I jest fling
enough things, an' keep on aflingin', I might hit a porkypine jest as
well as anything else. There ain't nawthin' onnateral about a
porkypine, to keep one from hitt'n' him, I reckon."

The wood-pile was close by; and the wood, which she had sawed and
split for the kitchen stove, was of just the handy size. She was
careful, now, not to take aim, but imagined herself anxious to
establish a new wood-pile, in haste, just about where that sound of
insolent gnawing was disturbing the night. In a moment a shower of
sizable firewood was dropping all about the herring-tub.

The effect was instantaneous. The gnawing stopped, and the porcupines
glanced about uneasily. A stick fell plump upon the bottom of the tub,
staving it in. The porcupines backed away and eyed it with grieved
suspicion. Another stick struck it on the side, so that it bounced
like a jumping, live thing, and hit one of the porcupines sharply,
rolling him over on his back. Instantly his valiant quills went down
quite flat; and as he wriggled to his feet with a squeak of alarm, he
looked all at once little and lean and dark, like a wet hen. Mrs.
Gammit smiled grimly.

"Ye ain't feelin' quite so sassy now, be ye?" she muttered; and the
sticks flew the faster from her energetic hands. Not many of them, to
be sure, went at all in the direction she wished, but enough were
dropping about the herring-tub to make the porcupines remember that
they had business elsewhere. The one that had been struck had no
longer any regard for his dignity, but made himself as small as
possible and scurried off like a scared rat. The other, unvanquished
but indignant, withdrew slowly, with every quill on en