manner and strolling walk. Not far to the lake now. Suddenly this mood was shattered as his nose damped and his ears pricked to sense F O X.“Well shake my spines!” he snorted.
A fox in this district was certainly quite a surprise, but there, the changes in the countryside had upset and displaced many beside himself. Although Hitch was not usually a fast mover, when there was need he could run with the best. The fox was still some way off and he decided to try to keep himself at that distance. With legs outstretched to the full he cleared the ground at surprising speed. It was not enough however; the fox was obviously gaining on him. He chided himself; there was no need to lose his dignity and flee. He turned, set his ground and prepared his defences. In next to no time at all he was an armoury of quivering spears. With a final bound the fox was upon him. Then just as hastily he drew off and nursed a tender nose. Weighing matters and gauging distances it seemed that his best plan was to roll Hitch along and into the water and as he attempted to swim away, attack. At the first fumbling pat from the fox glove (paws can be tender too), Hitch guessed the plan. There was only one thing to do. To get away he must use his last line of defence. He did not like making himself disagreeable. A distant foreign cousin of his, Skunk, made a habit of it and who would want the name he had? This however was a matter of life and death. Taking a quick movement he hurled his stink-bomb at that elegant red fur coat and ran.
The fox leapt back, furious and indignant. Failure and anger made him rude.
“You—Pincushion, Conkercase, Claybake!” he snapped in a high pitch. Then as the choking smell rose again to his nose and Hitch went further away, he screamed, beside himself with rage and disappointment. “You
S-T-I-C-K-L-Y P-R-I-N-K-E-R, oh no, you S-T-R-I-C-K-L-Y P-I-N-K-E-R..... oh!.....” He managed to get it right at the third attempt. “You - P-R-I-C-K---L--Y S--T--I---N but by then Hitch was out of earshot.