When we had had Pricker for some weeks, we received a present of a second hedgehog. He was larger, but never became so tame as our first friend; he did not like to be taken up in our hands, and we never could obtain a good look at his black face and legs, as he rolled up on the slightest touch; and when Pricker was running about on the grass, his shy companion used to remain hidden beneath the leaves and plants.
We had, at this time, a very favourite dog; and at the first coming of the hedgehogs, we were in some fear that Tawney would kill them, for he was a most eager hunter of rats, weasels, rabbits, cats; in short, of anything that would run from him.
But every one assured us that a dog would not kill a hedgehog, on account of his sharp prickles; and the first time that we showed Pricker to Tawney, he made a sort of dart at him, and received, of course, a violent prick on the nose; at this he retreated, barking and licking his lips, and dancing round poor Pricker, with every desire to attack again; but hoping to find a spot unprotected by the formidable spikes.
Pricker, however, having tightly rolled himself up, such a spot was not to be found; and, after a great deal of noise and excitement, Tawney retired, and we never observed him to venture again.
When Pricker was running on the grass, or when we were feeding him with milk, Tawney used to play about without condescending to take the slightest notice of the little animal; in short, he pretended not to see him. So that we felt quite easy about the safety of Pricker and his comrade.
What it was that induced Tawney not only to see Pricker, but to attack him again, we do not know, as nobody was witness of the catastrophe.
On going into the garden one brilliant morning, Tawney made his appearance in a very excited state, bounding about our feet with a short delighted bark, that was not usually his morning salutation; and on looking more closely at him, we saw that his nose was bleeding; indeed, his whole head and ears were much ruffled and marked.
We did not at first think of Pricker; but on wiping Tawney's face with a wet towel, we found that he was bleeding from many wounds.
"The hedgehog!" we exclaimed, "He must have killed poor Pricker."
So we commenced a grand hunt through the garden, looking under all the cabbage-plants, and in all the usual haunts.