"Don't be afraid of Sandy," said Buddy Jim. "He is an old dog. I've had him always, and his bark is worse than his bite; besides, he can't climb a tree anyway; he just thinks he can!"
The round Pin-cushiony Person in the tree just laughed. "Bless your heart," he said, "I'm not afraid of Old Dog Sandy; I'm just being polite to him because he's a City dog and doesn't know any better than to try to bite me; any country dog would know better."
"You go outside and lie down, Sandy," said Buddy Jim, and when the old dog had gone, growling deep down in his throat because he did not want to go, he turned to the Pin-cushiony Person and said, "Now tell me what your name is and why Sandy would be a sorry dog if he should bite you."
"You must have read about me in books," said the Pin-cushiony Person, "and if you would think a bit you would know that my name is Prickly Porcupine. My pins are stuck in very loosely, so if a dog bites me he gets something to remember me by. He gets a mouthful of pins that do not come out very easily and I don't get hurt very much. Sometimes, just for fun, I let one start to bite me, and just as he thinks he has me I hit him in the mouth with my tail, and he goes home in a hurry to ask his master to pull my pins out!"
"I don't call that being very friendly," said Buddy Jim. "It isn't very friendly for dogs to try to bite me, either, just because they're bigger than I am," said the Pin-cushiony Person. "Mother Nature made me the way I am, so I'd have some way of defending myself. I'm so fat, and my legs are so short that I do not run very well, and besides, I don't feel like running away from my enemies."
"Well, I don't blame you for that," said Buddy Jim. "Nobody likes to run, even if the other fellow is the biggest. I don't! I know just how you feel about that. But do tell me. What do you do all the time? Do you live all alone?"
"Not all the time," answered the Pin-cushiony Person, "I have a family; but we are rather independent people and like to be alone. Days I sleep mostly, unless I am disturbed, as I was by your Old Dog Sandy just now, and nights I go out for food."
"What do you eat?" asked Buddy Jim. "I'm almost afraid to tell you," said the Pin-cushiony Person, "for fear that you'll tell old Bob the gardener, but I live in this Fir thicket because it is so near to the farm of your Father."
"Why should Bob the gardener care?" asked Buddy Jim. "Well you see," said the Pin-cushiony Person, "I go out at night and I nibble a bit here, and a bit there, from old Bob's garden, and I know how very particular he is about his garden and so I know if he ever catches me at it I shall be driven away from the Fir thicket."
"Do people hunt you much?" asked Buddy Jim. "Not very much nowadays" answered the Pin-cushiony Person, "but I've heard old Grandfather Porcupine tell stories to the Young Ones. He said his Grandfather had told him about the times when the Red Men lived in the forests, and used to hunt our people with bows and arrows. And how the Red Women used to cook us to feed their children, and to use our quills that Mother Nature had given us to defend ourselves with to trim their dresses and moccasins." "But those dreadful days are all over," he went on, "and now about all we have to fear are the eagles and the larger animals." "Aren't they afraid of your sharp pins?" asked Buddy Jim. "Some of them are, after they get one mouthful," answered the Pin-cushiony Person, "but Old Man Fisher is always hungry and willing to take a chance of getting stuck full of pins. But if you don't mind, Buddy Jim, I'm a bit sleepy—it always makes me drowsy to talk—so I'll say Goodbye and just turn over and have my nap out."