mean to say he was bad when he ran out of the pen, for he did not know
any better. But, after the board was nailed on tightly again, he did not
try to push it off. Perhaps he knew he could not do it.

Squinty and his brothers and sisters had lots of fun in the pen, even if
they could not go out. They played games in the straw, hiding away from
one another, and squealing and grunting when they were found. They raced
around the pen, playing a game much like our game of tag, and if they
could have had someone to tie a hand-kerchief over their eyes, they
might have played blind-man's buff. But of course they did not really do
this.

However, they raced about, and jumped over each other's backs, and
climbed upon the fat sides of their father and mother while the big pigs
lay asleep in the shade.

Squinty was a pig very fond of playing tricks. Sometimes he would take a
choice, tender piece of pig weed, which the farmer had tossed into the
pen, and hide it in the soft dirt in one corner.

"Now see who can find it!" Squinty would call to his brothers and
sisters, and they would hunt all over for it, rooting up the earth with
their strong, rubbery noses.

Digging in the dirt was good practice for them, and their mother and
father would watch them, saying:

"Ah, when they grow up they will be very good rooting pigs indeed. Yes,
very good!"