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Updated: June 4, 2025
"And you found him?" "Yes. I came upon my brother first. And I lied. I told him he had made a mistake, and killed you, that his life was not worth the quill from a porcupine's back if he remained in the country. I made him believe it was another who fought him in the forest. He fled. I am glad of that. He will never come back.
He pressed his lips together, as he added with a dignified, mysterious, but always theatrical air: "It is a matter of very great importance." "So is mine," declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a porcupine's quills.
The cougar is often found dead in the woods, his death occasioned by the porcupine's quills that are seen sticking in his mouth and tongue. So also the lynx has been found, as well as many dogs and wolves.
Aunt Izzie's hair was half pulled down, and Philly was rolling over and over in convulsions of laughter. But Cousin Helen said she hadn't done anything, and pretty soon Papa was on the floor too, playing away as fast as the rest. "I must put a stop to this," he cried, when everybody was tired of laughing, and everybody's head was stuck as full of paper quills as a porcupine's back.
Here he stayed till the end of the century, and here he began his newspaper experiments, keeping up in Peter Porcupine's Journal a violent crusade against French Jacobins and American Democrats. This remained Cobbett's creed till his death. The paper was very profitable, and for some time Cobbett was able to lead something like a country gentleman's life at Botley in Hampshire.
When he retired from office he apparently cut off his subscriptions to papers, for a few months later he inquired, "what is the character of Porcupine's Gazette?
What astonished and alarmed him seemed to be that his quills had no effect upon his enemies; they laughed at his weapons. He stuck his head under a rock and left his back and tail exposed. This is the porcupine's favorite position of defense. "Now come if you dare," he seems to say. Touch his tail, and like a trap it springs up and strikes your hand full of little quills.
Perkins went to her bandbox in the attic and gave Miss Dearborn some pale blue velvet, with which she bound the brim of the brown turban and made a wonderful rosette, out of which the porcupine's defensive armor sprang, buoyantly and gallantly, like the plume of Henry of Navarre.
But he was only an ordinary English terrier, and, as I told you, had not been long in West Africa. A horse would have known better, for all horses are afraid of porcupines, and will never face an irritated one if they can possibly get away. As a rule, the very rustle of a porcupine's quills will make a horse take to his highest speed in terror.
The very last bullet broke one of the Porcupine's lower front teeth, and hurt him terribly. It jarred him to the very end of his tail, and his head felt as if it was being smashed to bits. For a minute or two the strength all went out of him, and if he had not been lying in a safe, comfortable crotch he would have fallen to the ground.
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