Then next morning while Midnight was feeding close to the beaver lake he met another stranger. The animal was not large and it waddled along at a slow pace. It had long, yellowish hair and it seemed too dull-witted and slow to be dangerous. Midnight advanced. The dull-witted one lifted the hair on his back but otherwise paid no attention to the little horse.
Midnight had never met a porcupine. He thought the spines sticking out of his back were long hairs. The dull gnawer of bark sat down when Midnight got close to him. Only his tail moved, jerking up and down. Midnight extended his soft muzzle and sniffed in a friendly manner. He kept his legs planted wide so that he could leap if the porky came to life suddenly and attacked him. The gnawer did not move, he huddled into a ball of spiny fur, pulling his head back until only the tip of his snout showed. Midnight tossed his head and pawed, his nose extended closer as he sniffed and sniffed. Suddenly he felt a quick stab of pain in his tender muzzle. He leaped back with a snort. An ivory barb that was half black with ebony stuck out of his lower lip.
Midnight galloped away through the aspens, across the little meadow to the far side. The pain in his lip increased as the barb dug deeper. He halted and thrust his muzzle into the fresh, black dirt of a pocket-gopher mound. He raked his nose back and forth in the damp earth. The cool dirt soothed the burning sting but it also drove the barb deeper into the tender flesh. Midnight next tried rubbing the wounded spot against the trunk of a tree. The quill caught in the rough bark and pulled free. It came away red with a little piece of Midnight’s flesh clinging to it.
After that he left the dull gnawer of bark strictly alone. The porky fed on the meadow or in the tops of the low bushes where he hung like a spiny ball. His clicking grumble could be heard at any time during the day.
And each day Midnight circled his prison seeking a way to get off the mesa. He was uneasy and wanted more room. There was plenty of feed and there was water, but there was no room to gallop. The confinement worried him. He was not like the dull porky or the beavers, he was used to wide spaces and an elevation from which he could look down on the world. From the little mesa he could see nothing but trees, the canyon wall, and the lake.