Chrome laughed at the ludicrous fancy. He loved fun, and was ready
to help carry out the freak.

"Well, just try your hand on improving nature," he said.

Paul went to work. Knowing that pigs like to have their backs scratched,
he had no difficulty in keeping them quiet. To one he gave green legs,
blue ears, red rings round its eyes, and a red tail. Another had one red
leg, one blue, one yellow, one green, with red and blue stripes and
yellow stars on its body. "I will make him a star-spangled pig," Paul
shouted to Mr. Chrome. Another had a green head, yellow ears, and a red
body. Bruno watched the proceedings, wagging his tail, looking now at
Paul and then at the pigs, ready to help on the fun.

"Si'c!--si'c!--si'c!" said Paul. Bruno was upon them with a bound. Away
they capered, with him at their heels. As soon as they came into the
sunshine the spirits of turpentine in the paint was like fire to their
flesh. Faster they ran up the street squealing, with Bruno barking
behind. Mr. Chrome laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. All the
dogs, great and small, joined Bruno in chase of the strange game. People
came out from the stores, windows were thrown up, and all hands--men,
women, and children--ran to see what was the matter, laughing and
shouting, while the pigs and dogs ran round the square.

"Paul Parker did that, I'll bet," said Mr. Leatherby, the shoemaker,
peeping out from his shop. "It is just like him."

An old white horse, belonging to Mr. Smith, also sought the shade of the
maple before the Pensioner's house. Bruno barked at him by the hour, but
the old horse would not move for anything short of a club or stone.

"I'll see if I can't get rid of him," said Paul to himself.

He went into the barn, found a piece of rope, tied up a little bundle of
hay, got a stick five or six feet long, and some old harness-straps. In
the evening, when it was so dark that people could not see what he was
up to, he caught the old horse, laid the stick between his ears and
strapped it to his neck, and tied the hay to the end of the stick, in
such a way that it hung a few inches beyond old Whitey's nose. The old
horse took a step ahead to nibble the hay,--another,--another,--another!
"Don't you wish you may get it?" said Paul. Tramp,--tramp,--tramp. Old
Whitey went down the road. Paul heard him go across the bridge by the
mill, and up the hill the other side of the brook.

"Go it, old fellow!" he shouted, then listened