"I guess I had better stay here," thought Squinty. So he pulled some of
the grass over him, and went to sleep.
When he awoke the sun was shining.
"I must get my breakfast," thought Squinty. He hunted about until he had
found some acorns, and then, coming to a little brook of water he took a
long drink. Something about the brook made Squinty look at it carefully.
"Why--why!" he exclaimed to himself: "It seems to me I have been here
before! Yes, I am sure I have. This is the place where I first came to
get a drink, when first I ran away. It is near the pen where I used to
live! Oh, I wonder if I can find that?"
The heart of Squinty was beating fast as he looked around at the scenes
he had seen when he was a very little pig, some weeks before. Yes, it
was the same brook. He was sure of it. And there was the garden of
potatoes, and the cornfield where he had first lost his way.
Hark! What was that?
Off in the rows of corn he heard a dog barking. Somehow he knew that
dog's bark.
"If that could be Don!" thought Squinty, hopefully.
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