“Even then he just waits, all curled up like a burr, knowing there isn’t the least bit of danger so far as he himself is concerned. That is, except when there is deep snow on the ground, and a fellow can sneak up underneath him, and grab where there are no quills. “Otherwise he knows there isn’t a creature in all these woods but would get the worst of it—with the exception, possibly, of Twinkly Eyes, the bear.” XXXVIII A JOLLY WORLD Now there wasn’t a creature in all the Deep Woods that wouldn’t have had the worst of it in an encounter with Unk Wunk, the porcupine—unless possibly Twinkly Eyes. And even Twinkly would be hurt as badly as anyone, were he to get a handful of quills slapped into his face with Unk Wunk’s punishing tail. But Twinkly Eyes had a way of managing an encounter that was all his own. In the first place, he had always found the world such a jolly place to live in that his little black eyes twinkled at whatever they looked at. It was such fun to climb trees and see what was going on round about him, as he nibbled buds or shook down beech nuts. He never had one bit of trouble getting down, because when he was ready he just let go and slid, landing like a rubber ball. That was the way he took life generally! Then there were other delightful things to do. For one thing, there was fishing in Pollywog Pond. It was full of frogs at this time of year, while as for fish!—Um! There was nothing to beat them. Not even the delicious sour ants that he sometimes found beneath loose bark. The Deep Woods were simply full of enticing things to do, and Twinkly Eyes had the happiest kind of time all day long. Nor was he all appetite. There was much that interested him that had nothing whatever to do with getting a square meal. In fact, he had a lively bump of curiosity, had Twinkly Eyes. But while curiosity is a great thing to have, if you want to learn what is going on around you, it is also rather dangerous at times, as we shall see. On this particular evening, no sooner had the great red sun began to disappear behind the fir trees than Twinkly sauntered forth to take the air and see what the prospects were for supper. Sleeping nearly all day as he did, up there in his den on Mount Olaf, he seldom came out much before dusk, and it was even later that Twinkly suddenly stopped in his tracks to sniff. There was certainly a tantalizing odor in the air,—for those that have noses as sharp as have the Forest Folk. What could it be? He climbed a log and sniffed again. It seemed to come from the top of that old beech tree! He stood on his hind legs and peered through the budding branches. Then suddenly he heard a low, monotonous grunting. “Unk, Wunk! Unk Wunk!” that came from a dark hump as round and fat and care-free as if winter had never been,—for the porcupine does not sleep in winter, but climbs the trees as the snow mounts higher, and eats his fill of their bark.