SQUINTY GETS HOME

The rows of corn, in the field where Squinty the comical pig was lost,
were like the streets of a city. They were very straight and even, just
like the street where your house is, and, if you liked, you could
pretend that each hill of corn was a house.

Perhaps Squinty pretended this, if pigs ever do pretend. At any rate the
little lost pig wandered up and down in the rows of corn, peering this
way and that, to see which way to go so he could get home again. He
began to think that running away was not so much fun as he had at first
thought.

"Oh dear!" Squinty grunted, in his funny, squealing voice. "I wonder if
I'll ever see my mamma and papa again?"

Squinty ran this way and that up and down the rows of corn, and you can
easily imagine what happened. He soon became very tired. "I think I will
take a rest," thought Squinty, talking to himself, because there was no
one else to whom he could speak. I think the little pig would have been
very glad, just then, to speak even to Don, the dog. But Don was not
there.

Squinty, wondering what happened to little pigs when they were lost, and
if they ever got home again, stretched out on the dirt between two rows
of corn. 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