“Really?” asked Gobo in amazement. “The jay was as cheeky with you as that?” Gobo was often in amazement at things, and he was exceptionally modest. “Then,” he added, “the hedgehog pricked me in the nose.” But he only mentioned that in passing, as it were.
“Who is the hedgehog?” Bambi asked cheerfully. It felt so wonderful to be standing there, to have friends and to be hearing so many exciting things.
“The hedgehog is a terrible creature,” exclaimed Faline. “Covered in big spikes all over his body ... and he’s very spiteful too!”
“Do you really think he’s spiteful?” asked Gobo. “He never does any harm to anyone.”
“What?” retorted Faline quickly. “Didn’t he prick you in the nose then?”
“Oh, that was only because I wanted to talk to him,” Gobo objected, “and it was only a little prick. It didn’t hurt very much.”
Bambi went closer to Gobo. “Why did he not want you to talk to him then?”
“He never wants to talk to anyone,” Faline put in. “As soon as anyone gets near him he rolls up into a ball with his spikes sticking out in every direction. Our mother tells us he’s one of those people who don’t want to have anything to do with the world.”
“Perhaps he’s just afraid,” thought Gobo.
But Faline understood it better. “Mother says you shouldn’t have anything to do with people like that.”