“Yes,” I said, “but how?”
Mercer looked at me, and rubbed his ear.
“Oh, that is only the first one,” he said hurriedly.
“But you must know how to catch the first one first.”
“Oh, I say, don’t argue like that. It is like doing propositions in Euclid. You have to begin with one hedgehog, that’s an axiom. Then you take him in your pocket.”
“Doesn’t it prick?” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know. How you keep interrupting! And you go out at night when it’s full moon, and then go and sit down on a felled tree right in the middle of an open place in the wood. You get a bit of stick, a rough bit, and take hold of piggy’s foot and rub his hind leg with the stick.”
“But suppose he curls up,” I said.
“Oh, bother! Don’t! How am I to tell you? You mustn’t let him curl up. You rub his hind leg with the stick, and then he begins to sing.”
“Oh, come!” I said, bursting out laughing.