“Oh, please don’t,” squealed Twinkly Eyes, retreating toward the pond, as Writho wriggled closer. Then he remembered Mrs. Porcupine and her family, whom he could hear grunting “unk wunk” as they nibbled lily pads. It would never do to back up too close to those prickly creatures. Neither would it do to turn his back on Writho, whose red forked tongue hissed at him from between two of the sharpest looking fangs he had ever seen. “Truly, I didn’t mean to step on you, Mr. Writho,” said the little bear, and his voice sounded very sorry and very much afraid. But he kept backing around nearer and nearer his tree, until it was right behind him. “Whoof, whoof!” he suddenly roared at the snake, stamping a fore foot loudly. Writho was so amazed that he stood stone still, and in that instant the cub had raced up his tree in safety. “Why didn’t you think of that before?” laughed Mother Bear. “Writho is an awful bluffer. He didn’t really mean to bite at all. The trouble was, it hurt his pride to be stepped on.” “So was I a bluffer,” confessed Twinkly Eyes. “No, you weren’t, my son. You could have killed him with one blow on the back of his neck, had he really tried to bite you.” “Wish I’d known,” sighed the cub. “I certainly had a bad scare.” “Now climb up here in the sun and dry your fur,” said Mother Black Bear, “while I talk to you. As a rule I don’t advise bluffing. I don’t advise making any threat you cannot back up with tooth or claw. Because once people find you out, they will have no more respect for you. “But with a coward and a bluffer like Writho it often works. Most snakes are cowards. All they want is to be left in peace. They’ll only attack a big animal like you when you step on them and make them mad. They hiss and stick out their tongues at us just for a bluff. “I’ve never seen Writho attack any animal larger than a hare or a chipmunk in all my life. “But you’ll do well to keep clear out of the way of Mrs. Porcupine and the whole porcupine family, big and little,” and she peered back into the pond, where the three prickly babies were just following their mother out of the pond. “Hello, there! I do believe they are making for our tree!” [Illustration: [Porcupines]] X THE BETTER PART OF VALOR Mother Black Bear sighed as she saw Mrs. Porcupine making for her maple tree. “If she wants it, I suppose she will have to have it,” she told the cubs. “Wisdom is the better part of valor.” “What is wisdom?” asked Woof, the larger of the fat cubs. “Wisdom,” said Mother Black Bear, “in this case is giving up our tree rather than having a fight with Mrs. Porcupine about it.” “But we got here first,” shrilled Twinkly Eyes, the smaller cub. “She has no right to it.”