The trouble with a quarrel is
 
That when it's once begun
 
The whole world tries to push it on,
 
And seems to think it fun.
 
 
IT usually is anything but fun for those engaged in it, but their neighbors crowd about and urge them on and do their best to make matters worse. It was just that way when Prickly Porcupine¹ and Old Man Coyote met beside the Laughing Brook². Now until they met here neither had ever seen the other, for you know Old Man Coyote had come out of the Great West, while Prickly Porky had come down from the North Woods. Prickly Porky took one good look and then he grunted³, “I'll soon fix him!” What he saw was some one who looked something like a very large gray fox or a dog, and Prickly Porky had put too many foxes and dogs to flight to feel the least bit of fear of the stranger grinning at him and showing all his great teeth.
 
But Old Man Coyote didn't know what to make of what he saw. Never in all his life had he seen anything like it. He didn't know whether to laugh or to be frightened. About all he could see was what looked like a tremendous great chestnut-burr on legs, which came towards him in little rushes and with a great rattling⁴ of the thousand little spears which made him look like a chestnut-burr. Old Man Coyote had never fought with anybody like this, and he didn't know just how to begin. He didn't like the look of the thousand little spears. The nearer they came, the less he liked the look of them. So he backed away a few steps, growling⁵ and

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