st now, he looked
more like a greyhound than a pig. His legs were so long, his nose so
sharp, and hunger, instead of making him stupid like the horse and cow,
had made him more lively. I think he had probably not suffered so much
as they had, or perhaps he had had a greater store of fat to nourish
him. Mr. Harry said that if he had been a girl, he would have laughed
and cried at the same time when he discovered that pig. He must have
been asleep or exhausted when we arrived, for there was not a sound out
of him, but shortly afterward he had set up a yelling that attracted Mr.
Harry's attention, and made him run down to him. Mr. Harry said he was
raging around his pen, digging the ground with his snout, falling down
and getting up again, and by a miracle, escaping death by choking from
the rope that was tied around his neck.

Now that his hunger had been satisfied, he was gazing contentedly at
his little trough that was half full of good, sweet milk. Mr. Harry said
that a starving animal, like a starving person, should only be fed
a little at a time; but the Englishman's animals had always been fed
poorly, and their stomachs had contracted so that they could not eat
much at one time.

Miss Laura got a stick and scratched poor piggy's back a little, and
then she went back to the house. In a short time we went home with Mr.
Wood. Mr. Harry was going to stay all night with the sick animals, and
his mother would send him things to make him comfortable. She was better
by the time we got home, and was horrified to hear the tale of Mr.
Barron's neglect. Later in the evening, she sent one of the men over
with a whole box full of things for her darling boy, and nice, hot tea,
done up for him in a covered dish. When the man came home, he said that
Mr. Harry would not sleep in the Englishman's dirty house, but had slung
a hammock out under the trees. However, he would not be able to sleep
much, for he had his lantern by his side, all ready to jump up and
attend to the horse and cow. It was a very lonely place for him out
there in the woods, and his mother said that she would be glad when the
sick animals could be driven to their own farm.

CHAPTER XXVIII THE END OF THE ENGLISHMAN

IN a few days, thanks to Mr. Harry's constant care, the horse and cow
were able to walk. It was a mournful procession that came into the yard
at Dingley Farm. The hollow-eyed horse, and lean cow, and funny, little
thin pig, staggering along in suc