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where you belong!"



"Squee! Squee! Squee!" yelled Squinty. "Oh, please let me go! I'll be

good!"



And so it went on, the dog talking in his barking language, and Squinty

squealing in his pig talk; but they could easily understand one another,

even if no one else could.



Back in the pen Mrs. Pig suddenly awakened from a nap. So did Mr. Pig,

and all the little pigs.



"Don't you hear something making a noise?" asked Mrs. Pig of her

husband.



"Why, yes, I think I do," he answered slowly, as he looked in the feed

trough, to see if the farmer had left any more sour milk there for the

pig family to eat. But there was none.



"I hear someone squealing," said Wuff-Wuff, the largest boy pig of them

all.



"So do I," said Squeaker, a little girl pig.



Mrs. Pig sat up, and looked all over the pen. She was counting her

children to see if they were all there. She did not see Squinty, and at

once she became frightened.



"Squinty is gone!" cried Mrs. Pig. "Oh, where can he be?"



The squealing noise became louder. So did the barking of the dog.



"Look, there is a board off the side of the pen," said Mr. Pig.



"Yes, Squinty wanted me to come outside with him," said Wuff-Wuff. "But

I wouldn't go."



"Oh, maybe my little boy pig is outside there, making all that noise!"

cried Mrs. Pig to her husband.



"Well, he isn't making _all_ that noise by himself," said the father

pig. "Someone is helping him make it, I'm sure."



They all listened, and heard the barking of Don, as well as the

squealing of Squinty.



"Oh, some animal has caught him!" cried Mrs. Pig. Then she pushed as

hard as she could with her nose, against the loose board near the hole

in the pen, through which Squinty had run a little while before. Mrs.

Pig soon knocked off the board, and then she ran out into the garden,

Mr. Pig and all the little pigs ran after her.



The first thing Mrs. Pig saw was her little boy pig down on the ground

in the middle of a row of melon vines, with Don holding Squinty's ear.



"Bow wow!" barked Don.



"Squee! Squee!" cried Squinty.



"Oh, you poor little pig!" grunted Mrs. Pig. "What has happened to you?"



"Oh, mamma!" squealed Squinty. "I--I ran out of the pen to see what it

was like outside, and I was just eating some pig weed, when this big dog

chased after me."



"Yes, I did," said Don, growling in his deep voice. "The place for pigs,

little or big, is in their pen. The farmer does not want you to come out

and spoil his garden. He tells me to watch you, and to drive you back if

you come in it.



"This is the first time I have seen any of you pigs in the garden," went

on Don, still keeping hold of Squinty's ear, "and I want you, please, to

go back in your pen."



"Oh, I'll go! I'll go!" cried Squinty. "Only let loose of my ear, Mr.

Dog, if you please!"



"What! Have you hold of Squinty's ear?" asked Wuff-Wuff. "Oh, do please

let him go!"



"Yes, I will, now that you are here," said Don, and he took his strong,

white teeth from the piggy boy's ear. "I did not bite him hard enough to

hurt him," said Don. "But I had to catch hold of him somewhere, and

taking him by the ear was better than taking him by the tail, I think."



"Oh, yes, indeed!" agreed Mr. Pig. "Once, when I was a little pig, a dog

bit me on the tail, and I never got over it. In fact I have the marks

yet," and he tried to look around at his tail, which had a kink in it.

But Mr. Pig was too fat to see his own tail.



"So that's why I took hold of Squinty by the ear," went on Don. "Did I

hurt you very much?" he asked the little pig who had run out of the pen.



"Oh, no; not much," Squinty said, as he rubbed his ear with his paw.

Then, as he saw a bunch of pig weed close to him, he began nibbling

that. And his brothers and sisters, seeing him do this, began to eat the

pig weed also.



"Come! This will never do!" barked Don, the dog. "I am sorry, but all

you pigs must go back in your own pen. The farmer would not like you to

be out in his garden."



"Yes, I suppose we must," said Mrs. Pig, with a sigh. "Yet it is very

nice out in the garden. But we must stay in our pen."



"Come, children," said Mr. Pig. "We must stay in our own place, for if

we rooted up the farmer's garden, much as we would like to do it, he

would have no vegetables to eat this winter. Then he might be angry at

us, and would give us no more sour milk. So we will go back to our pen."



"Bow wow! Bow wow!" barked Don, running here and there. "I will show you

the way back to your pen," he said, kindly.



And he capered about, here and there, driving the pigs back to the place

where Squinty had run from, and where all the others had come from, to

see what had happened to him.



The farmer, who was hoeing corn, heard the barking of his dog. He

dropped the hoe and ran.



"Something must have happened!" he cried. "Maybe the big bull has gotten

loose from his field, and is chasing someone with a red dress."



Into the garden he ran, and then he saw Don driving Squinty, and his

brothers and sisters, and mother and father, back to the pen.



"Ha! So the pigs got loose!" the farmer cried. "Good dog! Chase 'em

back!"



"Bow wow!" barked Don. "I will!"



But the pigs did not need much driving, for they were very good, and did

not want to cause Don, or the farmer, any trouble if they could help it.



Soon Squinty and the others were safely in the pen again. The farmer

looked at them carefully.



"So, you thought you'd like to get out and have a run, did you?" he

asked, speaking to pigs just as if they could understand him. And they

did, just as your dog understands, and minds you when you call to him to

come to you.



"So you wanted a run in the garden, eh?" went on the farmer. "Well, I

don't blame you, for it isn't much fun to stay cooped up in a pen all

the while. But still I can't have you out. But I'll give you a nice lot

of pig weed, just the same, for you must be hungry."



Then the farmer pulled up some more of the green stuff, and tossed it

into the pen. He also gave them plenty of sour milk, which pigs like

better than sweet milk. Besides, it is cheaper.



"Well, I guess you won't run away again," the farmer went on, as he

nailed back on the pen the board which Squinty had pushed off. Perhaps

the farmer thought one of the big pigs--the papa or mamma one--had made

the hole for the others to get out. I am sure he never thought little

Squinty, with his comical eye, did it. But we know Squinty did, don't

we?



For some time after this Squinty was a very-good pig, indeed. Not that I

mean to say he was bad when he ran out of the pen, for he did not know

any better. But, after the board was nailed on tightly again, he did not

try to push it off. Perhaps he knew he could not do it.



Squinty and his brothers and sisters had lots of fun in the pen, even if

they could not go out. They played games in the straw, hiding away from

one another, and squealing and grunting when they were found. They raced

around the pen, playing a game much like our game of tag, and if they

could have had someone to tie a hand-kerchief over their eyes, they

might have played blind-man's buff. But of course they did not really do

this.



However, they raced about, and jumped over each other's backs, and

climbed upon the fat sides of their father and mother while the big pigs

lay asleep in the shade.



Squinty was a pig very fond of playing tricks. Sometimes he would take a

choice, tender piece of pig weed, which the farmer had tossed into the

pen, and hide it in the soft dirt in one corner.



"Now see who can find it!" Squinty would call to his brothers and

sisters, and they would hunt all over for it, rooting up the earth with

their strong, rubbery noses.



Digging in the dirt was good practice for them, and their mother and

father would watch them, saying:



"Ah, when they grow up they will be very good rooting pigs indeed. Yes,

very good!"



Then Squinty, or his brothers or sisters, would root up the hidden pig

weed, and the old pigs would go to sleep again, for they did not need to

practice digging, having done so when they were young. About all they

did was to eat and sleep, and tell the little pigs how to behave.



"Squinty, how is your ear that Don, the dog, bit?" asked Mrs. Pig of her

little boy pig one day.



"Oh, it doesn't hurt me," answered Squinty. "Don did not bite very hard.

He only wanted to catch me."



"Yes, Don is a good dog," said Mrs. Pig. "But you must be careful of

other dogs, Squinty."



"Why, are not all dogs alike?" the little pig boy asked.



"Oh, no, indeed!" answered Mrs. Pig. "Some of them are very bad and

savage. They would bite you very hard if they got the chance. So,

whenever you see any dog, except Don, running toward you, run away as

fast as you can."



"I will," promised Squinty. And he did not know how soon he would be

glad to remember his mother's good advice.



For some days nothing much happened in the pig pen. Once or twice

Squinty pushed his nose against the board the farmer had nailed on, but

it was very tight, he found, and he could not push it off.



"Are you trying to get out again?" asked Wuff-Wuff.



"Oh, I don't know," Squinty would answer. "I think it would be fun if we

all could; don't you?"



"No, indeed!" cried Wuff-Wuff. "Some big dog might chase us. I want to

stay in the pen."



But Squinty was a brave, bold, mischievous little pig. He was not

content to stay in the pen. He wanted to have some adventures. He wanted

to get out in the garden, which looked so nice and green.



Squinty looked all around the other sides of the pen. He wanted to see

if there was another loose board. If there was, he made up his little

pig mind that he would go out again. But he said nothing of this to his

brothers or sisters, or to his father or mother. He felt that they would

not like him to go away again.



"But there is not much fun staying in the pen all the while," thought

Squinty. "I wish I could get out."



Squinty, you see, had made up his mind to run away. Often horses run

away, so I don't see why pigs can't, also. Anyhow, that was what Squinty

intended to do.



But, for nearly a week after his first adventure in the garden, Squinty

had no chance to slip out of the pen. All the boards seemed very tight.



Then, one day, it was very hot. The sun shone brightly.



"Dig holes for yourselves in the cool ground, and lie down in them,"

said Mrs. Pig. "That will cool you off."



Each little pig dug a hole for himself, just as a hen does when she

wants to take a dust bath. Squinty dug his hole near the lower edge of

the boards, on one side of the pen.



"I'll make a big hole," he thought to himself.



And, as Squinty dug down, he noticed that he could see under the bottom

of the boards. He could look right out into the garden.



"That is very queer," thought the little pig boy. "I believe I can get

out of the pen by crawling under a board, as well as by pushing one

loose from the side. I'll try it." Squinty was learning things, you see.



So he dug the hole deeper and deeper, and soon it was large enough for

him to slip under the bottom board.



"Now I can run away," he grunted softly to himself. He looked all around

the pen. His father, mother, sisters and brothers were fast asleep in

their cool holes of earth.



"I'm going!" said Squinty, and the next moment he had slipped under the

side of the pen, through the hole he had dug, and once more he was out

in the garden.



"Now for some adventures!" said Squinty, in a jolly whisper--a pig's

whisper, you know.