“A rolling stone gathers no moss.”

But Unk Wunk was just the opposite. In his roll down hill he had gathered several pecks of moss and leaves on the points of his quills.

Porcupines always do go by contraries.

And Twinkly Eyes, the Bear, was no sooner convinced that that great jagged mass of dry leaves was his foe of the swimming hole experience than his little black eyes began twinkling more merrily than ever. For here was opportunity knocking at his very door.

Now Twinkly Eyes was different to this extent from most of the folk that lived in the deep woods. He had a sense of humor.

To Mammy Cottontail and her brood, life was one perpetual effort to escape the jaws and claws and beaks and bills of the enemies on every side. The mere matter of finding enough to eat had its dangers.

While young Frisky Fox occasionally smiled at his own cleverness, it took the fat little bear to find amusement in everything that happened. In the first place, he was thus far afraid of nothing under all the wide blue sky. He was so much stronger and better-armed than almost any other creature in the wilderness!

True, he wasn’t as well armed as Bobby Lynx, but then, Bobby had no desire to dine off of any one that could fight like Twinkly Eyes. So, being unafraid, Twinkly could enjoy life. And being happily able to eat almost anything that came his way with relish, he had time to spare for play.

Just now, as he approached that bristling ball of oak leaves that had come so near to rolling square upon him, his little black eyes danced with mischief. Twinkly had a plan whereby he meant to have some fun at the prickly one’s expense!

He waited till Unk Wunk, indifferent to his presence, had stretched his legs and begun lazily gnawing the tree trunk that was nearest to his nose. “Unk Wunk, Unk Wunk!” he began to sing in his two monotonous notes. “Here I am again, right side up with care, and I don’t care the flip of my tail who sees me, nor what they try to do with me. Because I’m dead sure they’ll get the worst of it every time.”

“Woo-huff!” snorted Twinkly Eyes, sitting up on his haunches. “Sure and I’m going to find that out for myself! I’ll bet I know a trick that will take you down a peg, you old grouch, you! I saw my mother do it once last year, and I’ve never had so much fun since.”

With this, to which the porcupine paid not the slightest attention, Twinkly arose and began padding cautiously forward. For a few minutes he stood directly over the gnawer, but Unk Wunk accorded him not even the glance of an eye.