.

"Now I have a larger place for you," the boy said, speaking just as
though Squinty could understand him. And, in fact, Squinty did know much
of what was said to him, though he could not talk back in boy language,
being able to speak only his own pig talk.

"And I guess you are hungry, too, and want something to eat," the boy
went on. "I will feed you!"

"Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed Squinty. If there was one word in
man-talk that he understood very well, it was "feed." He had often heard
the farmer say:

"Well, now I must feed the pigs."

And right after that, some nice sour milk would come splashing down into
the trough of the pen. So when Squinty heard the word "feed" again, he
guessed what was going to happen.

And he guessed right, too.

The boy picked Squinty up, box and all, and carried him to the back
yard.

"Now I'll give you more room to run about, and then I'll have a nice
supper for you," the boy said, talking to his little pig just as you
would to your dog, or kittie.

With a hammer the boy knocked off some of the slats of the small box in
which Squinty had made his journey. Then the boy lifted out the comical
little pig, and Squinty found himself inside a large box, very much like
the pen at home. It had clean straw in it, and a little trough, just
like the one at his "home," where he could eat. But there was nothing in
the trough to eat, as yet, and the box seemed quite lonesome, for
Squinty was all alone.

"Here you are now! Some nice sour milk, and boiled potatoes!" cried the
boy, and then Squinty smelled the most delicious smell--to him at least.
Down into the trough came the sour milk and potatoes.

"Squee! Squee!" yelled Squinty in delight. And how fast he ate! That was
because he was hungry, you see, but pigs nearly always eat fast, as
though they were continually in a hurry.

"Oh, isn't it cute!" exclaimed a voice over Squinty's head. He looked
up, half shutting his one funny eye, and cocking one ear up, and letting
the other droop down. But he did not stop eating.

"Oh, isn't he funny!" cried another voice. And Squinty saw the boy and
his sisters looking at him.

"Yes, he surely is a nice pig," the boy said, "In a few days, when he
gets over being strange, I'm going to teach him some tricks."

"Ha! There's that word tricks again!" thought Squinty. "I wonder what
tricks are? But I shall very soon find out."

For a few days Squinty was rather lonesome in his new pen, all by