"I wish my brothers, Wuff-Wuff or Squealer were with me," said Squinty
softly to himself, in pig language. "But if I had awakened them, and
asked them to run away with me, mamma or papa might have heard, and
stopped us."
Squinty did not feel at all sorry about running away and leaving his
father and mother, and brothers and sisters. You see he thought he would
be back with them again in a few hours, for he did not intend to stay
away from the pen longer than that. But many things can happen in a few
hours, as you shall see.
"I won't eat any pig weed just yet," thought Squinty, as he went softly
on between the rows of potato vines. "To pull up any of it, and eat it
now, would make it wiggle. Then Don or the farmer might see it wiggling,
and run over to find out what it was all about. Then I'd be caught. I'll
wait a bit."
So, though he was very hungry, he would not eat a bit of the pig weed
that grew near the pen. And he never so much as dreamed of taking any of
the farmer's potatoes. He did not yet know the taste of them.
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