way pigs have, "why didn't I think
of that before? I must squeal for help. My mamma, or papa, may hear me
and come for me."

Then Squinty happened to think that the hole, by which he had gotten out
of the pen, was not large enough for his fat papa or mamma to crawl
through.

"No, they can't get out to come for me," Squinty thought. "They'll have
to send Wuff-Wuff, or Squealer. And maybe they'll get lost, the same as
I did. Oh dear, I guess I won't squeal any more. It's bad enough for me
to be lost, without any of my brothers or sisters getting lost, too."

So Squinty stopped squealing, and walked on and on between the rows of
corn, trying to find his way home to the pen all by himself. Squinty was
really quite a brave pig, wasn't he?

By this time, as you can well believe, Mr. and Mrs. Pig, in the pen, had
awakened from their afternoon sleep. And all the little pigs had
awakened too, for they were beginning to feel hungry again.

"Isn't it about time the farmer came with some sour milk for us?" asked
Mr. Pig of Mrs. Pig.

"I think it is," she said, looking up at the sun, for the sun is the
only clock that pigs, and other animals, have. When they see the sun in
the east, low down, they know it is morning. When it shines directly
over their heads, high in the sky, they know it is noon. And when the
sun sinks down in the west the pigs know it is getting toward night, and
supper time.

The sun was low down in the west now, and Mr. and Mrs. Pig knew it must
be nearly time for their evening meal.

"Come, Wuff-Wuff. Come, Squealer. Come, Squinty, and all the rest of
you!" called Mrs. Pig in her grunting voice. "Come, get ready for
supper. I think I hear the farmer coming with the nice sour milk!"

"Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed all the little pigs, for they were very
hungry indeed. "Squee! Squee! Squee!"

They all made a rush to see who would get to the eating trough first.
Some of them even put their feet in, they were so anxious. Pigs are
always that way. They know no better, so we must excuse them. If they
had been taught not to do that, and then did it, we would not excuse
them.

"Here comes the farmer with the sour milk," grunted Mr. Pig. "Oh, how
good it smells!"

Just then Squealer cried:

"Why, where's Squinty?"

His brothers and sisters looked around.

Squinty, the comical pig, was not to be seen. But we know where he was,
even if his mamma and papa and brothers and sisters did not. Squinty was