and said:

"Quee-ee-ee-eek."

"Go ahead and growl," said Scraps.

"Why, I--I did growl!" retorted the Woozy, who seemed much astonished.

"What, that little squeak?" she cried.

"It is the most awful growl that ever was heard, on land or sea, in
caverns or in the sky," protested the Woozy. "I wonder you stood the
shock so well. Didn't you feel the ground tremble? I suppose Chiss is
now quite dead with fright."

The Shaggy Man laughed merrily.

"Poor Wooz!" said he; "your growl wouldn't scare a fly."

The Woozy seemed to be humiliated and surprised. It hung its head a
moment, as if in shame or sorrow, but then it said with renewed
confidence: "Anyhow, my eyes can flash fire; and good fire, too; good
enough to set fire to a fence!"

"That is true," declared Scraps; "I saw it done myself. But your
ferocious growl isn't as loud as the tick of a beetle--or one of Ojo's
snores when he's fast asleep."

"Perhaps," said the Woozy, humbly, "I have been mistaken about my
growl. It has always sounded very fearful to me, but that may have been
because it was so close to my ears."

"Never mind," Ojo said soothingly; "it is a great talent to be able to
flash fire from your eyes. No one else can do that."

As they stood hesitating what to do Chiss stirred and suddenly a shower
of quills came flying toward them, almost filling the air, they were so
many. Scraps realized in an instant that they had gone too near to
Chiss for safety, so she sprang in front of Ojo and shielded him from
the darts, which stuck their points into her own body until she
resembled one of those targets they shoot arrows at in archery games.
The Shaggy Man dropped flat on his face to avoid the shower, but one
quill struck him in the leg and went far in. As for the Glass Cat, the
quills rattled off her body without making even a scratch, and the skin
of the Woozy was so thick and tough that he was not hurt at all.

When the attack was over they all ran to the Shaggy Man, who was
moaning and groaning, and Scraps promptly pulled the quill out of his
leg. Then up he jumped and ran over to Chiss, putting his foot on the
monster's neck and holding it a prisoner. The body of the great
porcupine was now as smooth as leather, except for the holes where the
quills had been, for it had shot every single quill in that one wicked
shower.

"Let me go!" it shouted angrily. "How dare you put your foot on Chiss?"

"I'm going to do worse than that, old boy," rep