"A garden rake?" exclaimed Racky. "Why, no! I don't carry rakes! But why do you want one?"
"To scratch my back," grunted the pig. "You know we porkers always like to have our backs scratched, and I thought, if you had a rake, you could do it for me. But never mind—it doesn't matter."
"Oh, but it does!" exclaimed Racky. "I should like to do you a favor since you were so kind as to invite me into this cave out of the rain. And I believe I know how I can scratch your back."
"How can you?" asked the wild pig.
"With the sharp ends of my rockers," answered the chair. "Oh, do not be afraid," he went on with a laugh. "They are not sharp enough to cut you. But if you will lie down behind me, with your back toward the ends of my rockers, I will sway to and fro. The rocker ends will move up and down and scratch your back nicely."
"Oh, joy!" grunted the pig. "I do so need a back-scratch!"
Out he stretched behind the chair, close to the rocker ends. To and fro swayed Racky, and "scritchy-scratchy" went the somewhat sharp ends on the pig's back.
"Uff! Uff!" grunted the wild porker. "That feels fine! It gives me an appetite! Now I will go out and get a breakfast of acorns!"
"What, in all this rain?" exclaimed Racky.
"Oh, I don't mind the rain!" grunted the pig, and out he waddled.