ThiswasthesecondtimeSquintyhadrunoutofthepenandintothefarmer’sgarden. ThefirsttimehehadbeencaughtandbroughtbackbyDon,thedog. ThistimeSquintydidnotintendtogetcaught,ifhecouldhelpit. So,aftercrawlingoutthroughtheholeunderthepen,thelittlepigcametoastop,andlookedcarefullyonallsidesofhim. Hisonelittlesquintyeyewasopenedaswideasitwouldopen,andtheothereyewasopenedstillwider. Squintywantedtoseealltherewastobeseen. Hecockedoneearupinfrontofhim,tolistentoanysoundsthatmightcomefromthatdirection,andtheotherearhedroopedovertowardhisback,tohearanynoisesthatmightcomefrombehindhim. WhatSquintywasespeciallylisteningforwasthebarkingofDon,thedog. “For,”thoughtSquinty,“Idon’twantDontocatchmeagain,andmakemegoback,beforeIhavehadanyfun. Itwillbetimeenoughtogobacktothepenwhenitisdark. Yes,thatwillbetimeenough,”forofcourseSquintydidnotthinkofstayingoutafterthesunhadgonedown. Or,atleast,hedidnotimaginehewould. Butyoujustwaitandseewhathappens. Squintylookedcarefullyabouthim.Evenifoneeyediddroopalittle,hecouldstillseeoutofitverywell,andhesawnosignsofDon,thebigdog.NorcouldSquintyhearhim. Donmustbefaraway,thelittlepigthought,faraway,perhapstakingaswiminthebrook,wherethedogoftenwenttocooloffinhotweather. “IthinkI’llgoandhaveaswimmyself,”thoughtSquinty. Heknewtherewasabrooksomewhereonthefarm,forhecouldhearthetinkleandfallofthewatereveninthepigpen. Butwherethebrookwashedidnotknowexactly. “Butitwillbeanadventuretohuntforit,”Squintythought.“IguessIcaneasilyfindit.HereIgo!”andwiththathestartedtowalkbetweentherowsofpotatoes. Squintymadeuphislittlemindthathewasgoingtobeverycareful. Nowthathewassafelyoutofthepenagainhedidnotwanttobecaughtthesecondtime. HedidnotwantDon,orthefarmer,toseehim,sohecrawledalong,keepingasmuchoutofsightashecould. “Iwishmybrothers,Wuff-WufforSquealerwerewithme,”saidSquintysoftlytohimself,inpiglanguage. “ButifIhadawakenedthem,andaskedthemtorunawaywithme,mammaorpapamighthaveheard,andstoppedus.” Squintydidnotfeelatallsorryaboutrunningawayandleavinghisfatherandmother,andbrothersandsisters. Youseehethoughthewouldbebackwiththemagaininafewhours,forhedidnotintendtostayawayfromthepenlongerthanthat. Butmanythingscanhappeninafewhours,asyoushallsee. “Iwon’teatanypigweedjustyet,”thoughtSquinty,ashewentsoftlyonbetweentherowsofpotatovines. “Topullupanyofit,andeatitnow,wouldmakeitwiggle. ThenDonorthefarmermightseeitwiggling,andrunovertofindoutwhatitwasallabout.ThenI’dbecaught.I’llwaitabit.” So,thoughhewasveryhungry,hewouldnoteatabitofthepigweedthatgrewnearthepen. Andheneversomuchasdreamedoftakinganyofthefarmer’spotatoes.Hedidnotyetknowthetasteofthem. But,letmetellyou,pigswhohaveeatenpotatoes,eventhelittleonesthefarmercannotsell,areveryfondofthem. But,sofar,Squintyhadnevereatenevenalittlepotato. Onandonwentthelittlepig,lookingbacknowandthentowardthepentoseeifanyoftheotherpigswerecomingafterhim.Butnonewere. AndtherewasnosignofDon,thebarkingdog,northefarmer,either. TherewasnothingtostopSquintyfromrunningaway. Soonhewassomedistancefromthepen,andthenhethoughtitwouldbesafetonibbleatabitofpigweed. Hetookalargemouthfulfromatall,greenplant. “Oh,howgoodthattastes!”thoughtSquinty.“Itismuchbetterandfresherthanthekindthefarmerthrowsintothepentous.” Perhapsthiswastrue,butIimaginethereasonthepigweedtastedsomuchbetterwasbecauseSquintywasrunningaway. Perhapsyouknowhowitisyourself.Didyouevergooutthebackway,whenmammawaswashingthedishes,andrunovertoyouraunt’soryourgrandma’shouse,andgetapieceofbreadandjam? Ifyoueverdid,youprobablythoughtthatbreadandjamwasmuchnicerthanthekindyoucouldgetathome,thoughreallythereisn’tanybetterbreadandjamthanmothermakes. But,somehoworother,thekindyougetawayfromhometastesdifferently,doesn’tit? ItwasthatwaywithSquinty,thecomicalpig. Heateandatethepigweed,untilhehadeatenaboutasmuchaswasgoodforhim. Andthen,ashesawonelittlepotatoontheground,whereithadrolledoutofthehillinwhichitgrewwiththeothers,Squintyatethat.Hedidnotthinkthefarmerwouldcare. “Oh,howgooditis!”hethought. “IwishIhadnoteatensomuchpigweed,thenIcouldeatmoreofthosefunny,roundthingsthefarmercallspotatoes. NowIwillhavetowaituntilIamhungryagain.” Squintyknewthatwouldnotbeverylong,forpigsgethungrymanytimesaday.Thatiswhatmakesthemgrowfatsofast—theyeatsooften.Buteatingoftenisnotgoodforboysandgirls. Squintyhadnowcomesomedistanceawayfromthepen,wherehelivedwithhismother,father,sistersandbrothers. Hewonderediftheyhadawakenedyet,orhadseentheholeoutofwhichhehadcrawled,andiftheywerepuzzledastowherehehadgone. “Buttheycan’tfindme!”saidSquinty,withsomethingthatsoundedlikealaugh.Isupposepigscanlaugh—intheirownway,atanyrate. “No,theycan’tfindme,”thoughtSquinty,lookingallaround.Allhesawweretherowsofpotatovines,and,fartheroff,afieldoftall,greencorn. “Well,Ihavethewholedaytomyself!”thoughtSquinty.“IcandoasIplease,andnotgobackuntilnight.Letmesee,whatshallIdofirst?IguessIwillgotosleepintheshade.” Sohestretchedoutintheshadeofabigpotatovine,and,curlingupinalittlepinkball,heclosedhiseyes,thesquintyoneaswellasthegoodone. ButfirstSquintylookedallaroundtomakesureDon,thedog,wasnotinsight.Hesawnothingofhim. WhenSquintyawakenedhefelthungry,ashealwaysdidafterasleep. “Nowforsomemoreofthosenicepotatoes!”hesaidtohimself. Helikedthem,rightafterhisfirsttaste. Hedidnotlookaroundforthelittleonesthatmighthavefallenoutofthehillsthemselves. No,instead,Squintybeganrootingthemoutoftheearthwithhisstrong,rubberynose,madejustfordigging. IamnotsayingSquintydidrightinthis. Infacthedidwrong,butthenhewasalittlepig,andheknewnobetter. Infactitwasthefirsttimehehadreallyrunawaysofar,andhewasquitehungry.Andpotatoeswerebetterthanpigweed. Squintyateasmanypotatoesashewanted,andthenhesaidtohimself,inawaypigshave: “Well,IguessI’llgoontothebrook,andcooloffinthewater.Thatwilldomegood.AfterthatI’lllookaroundandseewhatwillhappennext.” Squintyhadagoodnoseforsmelling,asmostanimalshave,and,tiltingitupintheair,Squintysniffedandsnuffed.Hewantedtosmellthewater,soastotaketheshortestpathtothebrook. “Ha!It’srightoverthere!”exclaimedSquintytohimself.“Icaneasilyfindthewatertotakeabath.” Acrossthepotatofieldhewent,takingcaretokeepwelldownbetweentherowsofgreenvines,forhedidnotwanttobeseenbythedog,orthefarmer. Once,asSquintywaswalkingalong,hesawwhathethoughtwasanotherpotatoonthegroundinfrontofhim. Heputhisnoseouttowardit,intendingtoeatit,butthethinggaveabigjump,andhoppedoutoftheway. “Ha!ThatmustbeoneofthehoptoadsIheardmymothertellabout,”thoughtSquinty. “Imustnothurtthem,fortheyaregoodtocatchthefliesthatticklemewhenItrytosleep.Hopon,”hesaidtothetoad.“Iwon’tbotheryou.” Thetoaddidnotstoptosayanything.Shejusthoppedon,andhidunderabigstone.MaybeshewasafraidofSquinty,buthewouldnothavehurther. Soonthelittlepigcametothebrookofcoolwater,andafterlookingabout,toseethattherewasnodangernear,Squintywadedin,andtookalongdrink. Thenherolledoverandoveragaininit,washingoffallthemudanddirt,andcomingoutascleanandaspinkasalittlebaby. Squintywasarealnicepig,evenifhehadrunaway. “Letmesee,”hesaidtohimself,afterhisbath.“WhatshallIdonow?WhichwayshallIgo?” Well,hehappenedtobehungryafterhisswim.InfactSquintywasveryoftenhungry,sohethoughthewouldseeifhecouldfindanythingmoretoeat. “Ihavehadpotatoesandpigweed,”hethought,“andnowIwouldlikesomeapples.Iwonderifthereareanyappletreesaroundhere?” Helookedand,acrossthefieldofcorn,hethoughthesawanappletree.Hemadeuphismindtogothere. AndthatiswhereSquintymadeanothermistake.Hemadeonewhenheranawayfromthepen,andanotheronewhenhestartedtogothroughthecornfield. Corn,youknow,growsquitehigh,andpigs,eventhelargestofthem,arenotverytall. Atleastnotuntiltheystandontheirhindlegs. ThatwasatrickSquintyhadnotyetlearned. Sohehadtogoalongonfourlegs,andthismadehimlowdown. Nowhehadbeenabletolookoverthetopsofthepotatovines,astheywerenotveryhigh,butSquintycouldnotlookoverthetopofthecornstalks. Nosoonerhadhegottenintothefield,andstartedtowalkalongthecornrows,thanhecouldnotseewherehewasgoing. Hecouldnotevenseetheappletreeinthemiddleofthefield. “Well,thisisqueer,”thoughtSquinty.“IguessIhadbettergoback.No,Iwillkeepon.Imaycometotheappletreesoon.” Hehurriedonbetweenthecornrows.But,thoughhewentalongdistance,hedidnotcometotheappletree. “IguessIwillgobacktothebrook,whereIhadmybath,andstartoveragainfromthere,”thoughtSquinty. “Iwillnottrytogetanyapplesto-day.Iwilleatonlypotatoesandpigweed.Yes,Iwillgoback.” Butthatwasnotsoeasytodoashehadthought. Squintywentthiswayandthat,throughtherowsofcorn,buthecouldnotfindthebrook. Hecouldnotfindhiswayback,norcouldhefindtheappletree.Onallsidesofhimwasthetallcorn.ThatwasallpoorSquintycouldsee. Finally,alltiredout,anddusty,thelittlepigstopped,andsighed: 
