It was shady there, but over-head the hot sun was shining.
Squinty's breath came very fast, just as when a dog runs far on a warm
day.
But the earth was rather cool, and Squinty liked it. He would much
rather have been down by the cool brook, but he knew he could not have a
swim in it until he found it. And, just now, he seemed a good way off
from it.
Poor Squinty! It was bad enough to be tired and warm, but to be lost was
worse, and to be hungry was worse than all--especially to a little pig.
And, more than this, there was nothing to eat.
Squinty had tried to nibble at some of the green corn stalks, but he did
not like the taste of them. Perhaps he had not yet learned to like them,
for I have seen older pigs eat corn stalks. And pigs are very fond of
the yellow corn itself. They love to gnaw it off the cob, and chew it,
just as you chew popcorn.
But the corn was not yet ripe, and Squinty was too little to have eaten
it, if it had been ripe. Later on he would learn to do this. Just now he
cared more about finding his way home, and also finding something that
he could eat.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48