Squinty the Comical Pig: His Many Adventures · Chapter 2Squinty, the Comical Pig (2)
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
Squinty made up his little mind that he was going to be very careful. Now that he was safely out of the pen again he did not want to be caught the second time. He did not want Don, or the farmer, to see him, so he crawled along, keeping as much out of sight as he could.
"I wish my brothers, Wuff-Wuff or Squealer were with me," said Squinty softly to himself, in pig language. "But if I had awakened them, and asked them to run away with me, mamma or papa might have heard, and stopped us."
Squinty did not feel at all sorry about running away and leaving his father and mother, and brothers and sisters. You see he thought he would be back with them again in a few hours, for he did not intend to stay away from the pen longer than that. But many things can happen in a few hours, as you shall see.
"I won't eat any pig weed just yet," thought Squinty, as he went softly on between the rows of potato vines. "To pull up any of it, and eat it now, would make it wiggle. Then Don or the farmer might see it wiggling, and run over to find out what it was all about. Then I'd be caught. I'll wait a bit."
So, though he was very hungry, he would not eat a bit of the pig weed that grew near the pen. And he never so much as dreamed of taking any of the farmer's potatoes. He did not yet know the taste of them. But, let me tell you, pigs who have eaten potatoes, even the little ones the farmer cannot sell, are very fond of them. But, so far, Squinty had never eaten even a little potato.
On and on went the little pig, looking back now and then toward the pen to see if any of the other pigs were coming after him. But none were.
And there was no sign of Don, the barking dog, nor the farmer, either. There was nothing to stop Squinty from running away. Soon he was some distance from the pen, and then he thought it would be safe to nibble at a bit of pig weed. He took a large mouthful from a tall, green plant.
"Oh, how good that tastes!" thought Squinty. "It is much better and fresher than the kind the farmer throws into the pen to us."
Perhaps this was true, but I imagine the reason the pig weed tasted so much better was because Squinty was running away.
Perhaps you know how it is yourself. Did you ever go out the back way, when mamma was washing the dishes, and run over to your aunt's or your grandma's house, and get a piece of bread and jam? If you ever did, you probably thought that bread and jam was much nicer than the kind you could get at home, though really there isn't any better bread and jam than mother makes. But, somehow or other, the kind you get away from home tastes differently, doesn't it?
It was that way with Squinty, the comical pig. He ate and ate the pig weed, until he had eaten about as much as was good for him. And then, as he saw one little potato on the ground, where it had rolled out of the hill in which it grew with the others, Squinty ate that. He did not think the farmer would care.
"Oh, how good it is!" he thought. "I wish I had not eaten so much pig weed, then I could eat more of those funny, round things the farmer calls potatoes. Now I will have to wait until I am hungry again."
Squinty knew that would not be very long, for pigs get hungry many times a day. That is what makes them grow fat so fast--they eat so often. But eating often is not good for boys and girls.
Squinty had now come some distance away from the pen, where he lived with his mother, father, sisters and brothers. He wondered if they had awakened yet, or had seen the hole out of which he had crawled, and if they were puzzled as to where he had gone.
"But they can't find me!" said Squinty, with something that sounded like a laugh. I suppose pigs can laugh--in their own way, at any rate.
"No, they can't find me," thought Squinty, looking all around. All he saw were the rows of potato vines, and, farther off, a field of tall, green corn.
"Well, I have the whole day to myself!" thought Squinty. "I can do as I please, and not go back until night. Let me see, what shall I do first? I guess I will go to sleep in the shade."
So he stretched out in the shade of a big potato vine, and, curling up in a little pink ball, he closed his eyes, the squinty one as well as the good one. But first Squinty looked all around to make sure Don, the dog, was not in sight. He saw nothing of him.
When Squinty awakened he felt hungry, as he always did after a sleep.
"Now for some more of those nice potatoes!" he said to himself. He liked them, right after his first taste. He did not look around for the little ones that might have fallen out of the hills themselves. No, instead, Squinty began rooting them out of the earth with his strong, rubbery nose, made just for digging.
I am not saying Squinty did right in this. In fact he did wrong, but then he was a little pig, and he knew no better. In fact it was the first time he had really run away so far, and he was quite hungry. And potatoes were better than pig weed.
Squinty ate as many potatoes as he wanted, and then he said to himself, in a way pigs have:
"Well, I guess I'll go on to the brook, and cool off in the water. That will do me good. After that I'll look around and see what will happen next."
Squinty had a good nose for smelling, as most animals have, and, tilting it up in the air, Squinty sniffed and snuffed. He wanted to smell the water, so as to take the shortest path to the brook.
"Ha! It's right over there!" exclaimed Squinty to himself. "I can easily find the water to take a bath."
Across the potato field he went, taking care to keep well down between the rows of green vines, for he did not want to be seen by the dog, or the farmer.
Once, as Squinty was walking along, he saw what he thought was another potato on the ground in front of him. He put his nose out toward it, intending to eat it, but the thing gave a big jump, and hopped out of the way.
"Ha! That must be one of the hop toads I heard my mother tell about," thought Squinty. "I must not hurt them, for they are good to catch the flies that tickle me when I try to sleep. Hop on," he said to the toad. "I won't bother you."
The toad did not stop to say anything. She just hopped on, and hid under a big stone. Maybe she was afraid of Squinty, but he would not have hurt her.
Soon the little pig came to the brook of cool water, and after looking about, to see that there was no danger near, Squinty waded in, and took a long drink. Then he rolled over and over again in it, washing off all the mud and dirt, and coming out as clean and as pink as a little baby. Squinty was a real nice pig, even if he had run away.
"Let me see," he said to himself, after his bath. "What shall I do now? Which way shall I go?"
Well, he happened to be hungry after his swim. In fact Squinty was very often hungry, so he thought he would see if he could find anything more to eat.
"I have had potatoes and pig weed," he thought, "and now I would like some apples. I wonder if there are any apple trees around here?"
He looked and, across the field of corn, he thought he saw an apple tree. He made up his mind to go there.
And that is where Squinty made another mistake. He made one when he ran away from the pen, and another one when he started to go through the corn field.
Corn, you know, grows quite high, and pigs, even the largest of them, are not very tall. At least not until they stand on their hind legs. That was a trick Squinty had not yet learned. So he had to go along on four legs, and this made him low down.
Now he had been able to look over the tops of the potato vines, as they were not very high, but Squinty could not look over the top of the corn stalks. No sooner had he gotten into the field, and started to walk along the corn rows, than he could not see where he was going. He could not even see the apple tree in the middle of the field.
"Well, this is queer," thought Squinty. "I guess I had better go back. No, I will keep on. I may come to the apple tree soon."
He hurried on between the corn rows. But, though he went a long distance, he did not come to the apple tree.
"I guess I will go back to the brook, where I had my bath, and start over again from there," thought Squinty. "I will not try to get any apples to-day. I will eat only potatoes and pig weed. Yes, I will go back."
But that was not so easy to do as he had thought. Squinty went this way and that, through the rows of corn, but he could not find the brook. He could not find his way back, nor could he find the apple tree. On all sides of him was the tall corn. That was all poor Squinty could see.
Finally, all tired out, and dusty, the little pig stopped, and sighed:
"Oh dear! I guess I am lost!"
CHAPTER IV
SQUINTY GETS HOME
The rows of corn, in the field where Squinty the comical pig was lost, were like the streets of a city. They were very straight and even, just like the street where your house is, and, if you liked, you could pretend that each hill of corn was a house.
Perhaps Squinty pretended this, if pigs ever do pretend. At any rate the little lost pig wandered up and down in the rows of corn, peering this way and that, to see which way to go so he could get home again. He began to think that running away was not so much fun as he had at first thought.
"Oh dear!" Squinty grunted, in his funny, squealing voice. "I wonder if I'll ever see my mamma and papa again?"
Squinty ran this way and that up and down the rows of corn, and you can easily imagine what happened. He soon became very tired. "I think I will take a rest," thought Squinty, talking to himself, because there was no one else to whom he could speak. I think the little pig would have been very glad, just then, to speak even to Don, the dog. But Don was not there.
Squinty, wondering what happened to little pigs when they were lost, and if they ever got home again, stretched out on the dirt between two rows of corn. It was shady there, but over-head the hot sun was shining. Squinty's breath came very fast, just as when a dog runs far on a warm day.
But the earth was rather cool, and Squinty liked it. He would much rather have been down by the cool brook, but he knew he could not have a swim in it until he found it. And, just now, he seemed a good way off from it.
Poor Squinty! It was bad enough to be tired and warm, but to be lost was worse, and to be hungry was worse than all--especially to a little pig. And, more than this, there was nothing to eat.
Squinty had tried to nibble at some of the green corn stalks, but he did not like the taste of them. Perhaps he had not yet learned to like them, for I have seen older pigs eat corn stalks. And pigs are very fond of the yellow corn itself. They love to gnaw it off the cob, and chew it, just as you chew popcorn.
But the corn was not yet ripe, and Squinty was too little to have eaten it, if it had been ripe. Later on he would learn to do this. Just now he cared more about finding his way home, and also finding something that he could eat.
For some time the little lost pig rested on the cool earth, in the shade of the rows of corn. Then he got up with a grunt and a squeal, and began rooting in the ground.
"Perhaps I may find some potatoes, or some pig weed, here," thought Squinty. "Who knows?"
But all he could root up, with his queer, rubbery nose, was some round stones. Some of these were brown, and looked so much like the little potatoes, that Squinty tried to chew one. But when he felt the hard stone on his little white teeth he cried out in pain.
"Ouch!" squealed Squinty. "That hurt! Those are funny potatoes! I never knew they could be so hard."
Later on he learned that what he supposed were potatoes were only stones. You see it takes a little pig some time to learn all the things he needs to know.
Squinty let the stone roll out of his mouth, and he looked at it with such an odd look on his face, peering at it with his squinty eye, and with one ear cocked up sort of sideways, that, if you had seen him, you could not have helped laughing. No one could, if they had seen Squinty then, but there was no one in the field to watch him.
"Well," thought Squinty, after a bit, "this will never do. I can't stay here. I must try to find my way back home. Let me see; what had I better do? I guess the first thing is to find that field of real potatoes, and not the make-believe ones like this," and he pushed the stone away with his nose.
"When I find the potato field," he went on, still talking to himself, "I am sure I can find the brook where I had a swim. And when I find the brook I will know my way home, for there is a straight path from there to our pen."
So Squinty started off once more to walk through the rows of corn. As he walked along on his little short legs he grunted, and rooted in the earth with his nose. Sometimes he stumbled over a big stone, or a clod of dirt, and fell down.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed poor Squinty, when he got up after falling down about six times, "Oh dear! This is no fun. I wish I had stayed in the pen with my brothers and sisters. I wonder what they are doing now?"
Just then Squinty felt more hungry than ever, and he thought it must be feeding-time back in the pen.
"Oh, they must be having some nice sour milk just now!" thought Squinty. "How I wish I were back with them!"
And then, as he fancied he could smell the nice sour milk, which the farmer or his wife was pouring into the eating trough of the pen, Squinty just howled and squealed with hunger. Oh, what a noise he made!
Then this gave him an idea.
"Ha!" he exclaimed to himself, in a way pigs have, "why didn't I think of that before? I must squeal for help. My mamma, or papa, may hear me and come for me."
Then Squinty happened to think that the hole, by which he had gotten out of the pen, was not large enough for his fat papa or mamma to crawl through.
"No, they can't get out to come for me," Squinty thought. "They'll have to send Wuff-Wuff, or Squealer. And maybe they'll get lost, the same as I did. Oh dear, I guess I won't squeal any more. It's bad enough for me to be lost, without any of my brothers or sisters getting lost, too."
So Squinty stopped squealing, and walked on and on between the rows of corn, trying to find his way home to the pen all by himself. Squinty was really quite a brave pig, wasn't he?
By this time, as you can well believe, Mr. and Mrs. Pig, in the pen, had awakened from their afternoon sleep. And all the little pigs had awakened too, for they were beginning to feel hungry again.
"Isn't it about time the farmer came with some sour milk for us?" asked Mr. Pig of Mrs. Pig.
"I think it is," she said, looking up at the sun, for the sun is the only clock that pigs, and other animals, have. When they see the sun in the east, low down, they know it is morning. When it shines directly over their heads, high in the sky, they know it is noon. And when the sun sinks down in the west the pigs know it is getting toward night, and supper time.
The sun was low down in the west now, and Mr. and Mrs. Pig knew it must be nearly time for their evening meal.
"Come, Wuff-Wuff. Come, Squealer. Come, Squinty, and all the rest of you!" called Mrs. Pig in her grunting voice. "Come, get ready for supper. I think I hear the farmer coming with the nice sour milk!"
"Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed all the little pigs, for they were very hungry indeed. "Squee! Squee! Squee!"
They all made a rush to see who would get to the eating trough first. Some of them even put their feet in, they were so anxious. Pigs are always that way. They know no better, so we must excuse them. If they had been taught not to do that, and then did it, we would not excuse them.
"Here comes the farmer with the sour milk," grunted Mr. Pig. "Oh, how good it smells!"
Just then Squealer cried:
"Why, where's Squinty?"
His brothers and sisters looked around.
Squinty, the comical pig, was not to be seen. But we know where he was, even if his mamma and papa and brothers and sisters did not. Squinty was in the cornfield, trying to find his way back to the pen.
"Why, where can Squinty be?" asked Mrs. Pig. "Squinty! Squinty!" she called, grunting and squealing as she always did. "Come to the trough!" she went on. "Supper is ready!"
But Squinty did not come. The farmer poured the sour milk down the slide, where it ran into the trough, and the little pigs began to eat. But Mr. and Mrs. Pig began looking for Squinty. They turned up the straw, thinking he might be asleep under it. No Squinty was to be seen. Then Mr. Pig saw the hole under the side boards of the pen.
"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Pig, speaking to Mrs. Pig, "I think perhaps Squinty went out there."
"Oh, so he did!" said Mrs. Pig. "What shall we do?"
Just then the farmer looked over in the pen to see how fat the pigs were getting. He counted the little pigs. Then a queer look came over his face.
"Hello!" he exclaimed. "Only six here! One of those pigs has gotten out. I must look into this!"
Quickly he glanced all about the pen. He saw the hole out of which Squinty had run away.
"I thought so!" exclaimed the farmer. "One of the pigs has rooted his way out. I'll have to go after him. Here, Don!" he called to his dog. "A pig is loose! We must catch him!" and he whistled for the big black and white dog, who ran up, barking and leaping about.
At first Squinty's brothers and sisters were paying so much attention to drinking their sour milk, that they did not notice what the farmer said, even though they missed Squinty at the trough. But when they heard the dog barking, they wondered what had happened. Then they saw their mamma and papa looking anxious, and talking together in their grunting language, and Wuff-Wuff asked:
"Has anything happened?"
"Squinty is lost!" said Mrs. Pig, rubbing her nose up against that of Curly Tail, the littlest girl pig of them all. "He must have run out of the pen when we were asleep."
"Oh dear!" cried all the little pigs, and they felt very badly.
"Never mind," said Mr. Pig, "I heard the farmer call Don, the dog, to go off and find Squinty. I think he'll bring him back."
"Oh, but maybe Don will bite Squinty," said Wuff-Wuff.
"I guess not," answered Mr. Pig. "Don is a gentle dog. But, anyhow, we want Squinty back, and the only way we can get him is to have the farmer and his dog go after him."
The other little pigs finished their supper of sour milk, with some small potatoes which the farmer's wife threw in to them. Mr. and Mrs. Pig ate a little, and then the farmer, after stopping up the hole where Squinty got out, so no more of the pigs could run away, started off over the fields, calling to his dog.
"Bow wow! Bow wow! Bow wow!" barked Don. That meant, in dog language, "I'll find Squinty and bring him back."
Meanwhile Squinty had tried his best to find a way out of the cornfield. But all he did was to walk up one row, and down another. If he had been tall enough to stand up and look over the tops of the corn stalks, he might have seen which way to go, but he was not yet large enough for that.
Pretty soon Squinty looked up, and he saw that the sun was not as bright as it had been. Squinty knew what this meant. The sun was going down, and it would soon be night.
"Oh dear! I wonder if I shall have to stay out all alone in the dark night," thought poor Squinty. "Oh, I'll never run away again; never!"
Just then he heard, off through the rows of corn, a dog barking.
"Bow wow! Bow wow! Bow wow!" went the dog.
"Oh, what shall I do? Where shall I hide?" thought Squinty. "A bad dog is after me."
He ran this way and that, stumbling and falling down. The barking of the dog sounded nearer. Then Squinty heard a man's voice saying:
"Get after him, Don! Find him! Find that pig!"
"Bow wow!" was the barking answer.
"Ha!" thought Squinty. "Don! That's the name of the good dog on our farm! I wonder if he is coming after me?"
Just then the farmer, who had been following the tracks left in the soft ground by Squinty's feet, came to the cornfield. The farmer saw where the pig had been walking between the green rows of corn.
"He's here, somewhere, Don," the farmer said. "Find him!"
"Bow wow!" barked Don. "I will!"
Just then Squinty stumbled over a big stone, and he could not help grunting. He also gave a little squeal.
"Here he is, Don!" called the farmer. "Take him by the ear, and lead him back to the pen. Easy, now!"
Squinty stood still. He did not want to run away from Don. Squinty was only too anxious to be found, and taken home.
The next minute, through the rows of corn, came bounding Don, the dog. He was followed by the farmer.
"Ah, there he is! The little runaway!" cried the farmer man as he saw the pig. "After him, Don! But don't hurt him!"
Don raced up beside Squinty, and took him gently by the ear.
"Bow wow!" barked the dog, and that meant: "Come along with me, if you please. You have been away from your pen quite long enough."
Squinty gave a loud squeal when Don took him by the ear, but when the little pig found that the dog did not mean to hurt him, he grew quiet, and went along willingly enough.
"I must make that pig pen a great deal tighter, if they are going to get out and run away every day," said the farmer to himself, as he walked along behind Don and Squinty.
Soon they were at the pig pen, and Oh! how glad Squinty was to see it again. The farmer picked the little pink fellow, now all tired out and covered with dirt, up in his arms and dropped him down inside the pen with the other pigs.
"There!" cried the farmer. "I guess you'll stay in after this."
"Bow wow!" barked Don, jumping about, for he thought it was fun to chase runaway pigs.
And so Squinty got safely back home. But very soon he was to have some more adventures.
CHAPTER V
SQUINTY AND THE BOY
Did you ever have a little brother or sister who ran away from home, and was very glad to run back, or be brought back again, by a policeman, perhaps? Of course your little brother or sister may not have intended to run away, it may have been that they only wandered off, around the corner, toward the candy store, and could not find their way back again. But, when he or she did get home--how glad you were to see them! Weren't you?
It was just like that at the pen where Squinty, the comical pig, lived. When the farmer picked him up, and dropped him down among his brothers and sisters, in the clean straw, Wuff-Wuff, Squealer, and Curly Tail, and the others, were so glad to see Squinty that they grunted, and squealed and walked all over one another, to be the first to get close to him.
"Oh, Squinty, where were you?"
"Where did you go?"
"What did you do?"
"Weren't you awfully scared?"
"Where did the dog find you?"
"Did he bite you very hard?"
These were some of the questions Squinty's brothers and sisters asked of the little runaway pig. They pressed close up to him, rubbing their funny, wiggling, rubber-like noses against him, and snuggling up against him, for they liked Squinty very much indeed.
Then, after the young pigs had had their turn, Mr. Pig and Mrs. Pig began asking questions.
"What made you run away?" asked Squinty's papa.
"Oh, I wanted to have an adventure," said Squinty.
"Well, did you have one?" asked his mamma.
"Oh, yes, lots of them," answered the little pig. "But I didn't find very much to eat." Squinty was very hungry now.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Pig. "You are just too late for supper. It is all eaten up. We did not see that you were not here until too late. It's too bad!"
Squinty thought so himself, for the smell of the sour milk that had been in the feeding trough made him more hungry than ever.
Squinty walked over and tried to find a few drops in the bottom of the wooden trough. These he licked up with his red tongue. But there was not nearly enough.
"Ha! I guess that little pig must be hungry," said the farmer looking down in the pen, after he had put some more stones and a board over the hole where Squinty had gotten out. "I guess I'll have to feed him, for the others have had their supper."
And how glad Squinty was when the farmer went over to the barrel, where the pigs' feed was kept, and mixed a nice pailful of sour milk with some corn meal, and poured it into the trough.
"Squee! Squee!" cried Squinty as he made a rush over to get his supper.
"Squee! Squee!" cried all the other little pigs, as they, too, made a rush to get more to eat.
"Here! Hold on! Come back!" cried Mr. Pig. "That is Squinty's supper. You must not touch it. You have had yours!" and he and Mrs. Pig would not let Squinty's brothers and sisters shove him away from the trough. For sometimes pigs are so hungry that they do this, you know. Being pigs they know no better.
So Squinty had his supper, after all, though he did run away. Perhaps he should have been punished by being sent to bed without having had anything to eat, but you see the farmer wanted his pigs to be fat and healthy, so he fed them well. Squinty was very glad of that.
"Now all of you go to sleep," said Mrs. Pig, when it grew darker and darker in the pen. So she made them all cuddle down in the straw, pulling it over them with her nose and paws, like a blanket, to keep them warm. For only part of the pen had a roof over it, and though it was summer, still it was cool at night.
But Squinty's brothers and sisters had no notion of going to sleep so soon. They wanted to hear all about what had happened to him when he had run away, and they wanted him to tell them of his adventures. So they grunted and whispered among themselves.