He found a place, near a big stump, where there was a soft bed of dried
leaves, nearly as nice as his straw bed in the pen at home. On this he
stretched out, and soon he was fast asleep.
When Squinty awoke it was real dark. He jumped up with a little grunt,
and said to himself:
"Well, I did not mean to stay away from my pen so long. I guess I had
better go back."
Squinty started to go back the way he had come, but I guess you can
imagine what happened. It was so dark he could not find the path. He
walked about, stumbling over sticks and stones and stumps, sometimes
falling down on soft moss, and again on the hard ground. Finally Squinty
thought:
"Well, it is of no use. I can't get back tonight, that is sure. I shall
have to stay here. Oh dear! I hope there are no dogs to bite me!"
Squinty listened carefully. He could hear no barks. He hunted around in
the dark until he found another soft bed of leaves, and on that he
cuddled himself up to go to sleep for the night. He was a little afraid,
but, after all, he was used to sleeping alone, and, even though he was
outside of his pen now, he did not worry much.
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