once he heard a voice speaking from behind some bushes.

"Yes, I think I will build my house here," the voice said. "The wolf
is sure to find me anyhow, and I might as well have it over with.
I'll make my house here."

Uncle Wiggily looked over the bushes, and there he saw a funny
little animal boy, with some pieces of wood on his shoulder.

"Hello!" cried Uncle Wiggily, making his nose twinkle in a most
jilly-jolly way. "Who are you, and what are you going to do?"

"Why, I am Squeaker, the second little pig, and I am going to make a
house of wood," was the answer. "Don't you remember how it reads in
the Mother Goose book? 'Once upon a time there were three little
pigs, named Grunter, Squeaker and----'"

"Oh, yes, I remember!" Uncle Wiggily said. "I met your brother
Grunter yesterday, and helped him build his straw house."

"That was kind of you," spoke Squeaker. "I suppose the bad old wolf
got him, though. Too bad! Well, it can't be helped, as it is that
way in the book."

[Illustration: "Little pig! Little pig!
Let me come in!"]

Uncle Wiggily didn't say anything about having saved Grunter, for he
wanted to surprise Squeaker, so the rabbit gentleman just twinkled
his nose again and asked:

"May I have the pleasure of helping you build your house of wood?"

"Indeed you may, thank you," said Squeaker. "I suppose the old wolf
will be along soon, so we had better hurry to get the house
finished."

Then the second little pig and Uncle Wiggily built the wooden house.
When it was almost finished Uncle Wiggily went out near the back
door, and began piling up some cakes of ice to make a sort of box.

"What are you doing?" asked Squeaker.

"Oh, I'm just making a place where I can put these jam tarts I have
for Nannie and Billie Wagtail," the rabbit gentleman answered. "I
don't want the wolf to get them when he blows down your house."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Squeaker. "I rather wish, now, he didn't have to
blow over my nice wooden house, and get me. But he has to, I s'pose,
'cause it's in the book."

Still, Uncle Wiggily didn't say anything, but he just sort of
blinked his eyes and twinkled his pink nose, until, all of a sudden,
Squeaker looked across the snowy fields, and he cried:

"Here comes the bad old wolf now!"

And, surely enough, along came the growling, howling creature. He
ran up to the second little pig's wooden house, and, rapping on the
door with his paw, cried:

"Little