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