“Well,” inquired he, “why did you wish to see me?”
At once the face of the Porcupine lost its grin. He resumed his whittling of the stick and was silent for some little time. At length he spoke.
“You’ve only known me for a little while,” he said. “Haven’t you?”
“Not very long,” admitted Nat.
“And of course when people don’t know other people for any length of time—well, they don’t put overmuch faith in them.”
Nat looked at him inquiringly. But the dwarf kept his eyes upon the stick and trimmed it delicately with his knife point.
“Go on,” said Nat.
“It’s not very easy to go on,” said the Porcupine. “Sometimes there are things that are hard to say.”
There was another pause. Nat felt that it was best to make no remarks. Apparently the lad had something to tell him—something that he thought would stretch his hearer’s credulity—and he was diffident in beginning.
“But,” proceeded the Porcupine, at length, “it’s got to be said and I’m going to say it. Only, I want you to promise to believe me.”