Then Squinty stopped squealing, as the farmer climbed out of the pen
with him.

"At last I am going on a journey, and I may have many adventures,"
thought the little pig. "Good-by!" he called to his papa and mamma and
brothers and sisters, left behind in the pen. "Good-by!"

"Good-by!" they all grunted and squealed. "Be a good pig," said his
mamma.

"Be a brave pig," said his papa.

"And--and come back and see us, sometime," sniffled little Curly Tail,
for she loved Squinty very much indeed.

"I'll come back!" said the comical little pig. But he did not know how
much was to happen before he saw his pen again.

"There you go--into the box with you!" cried the farmer, as he dropped
Squinty into a wooden box the boy had made for his pet, with a hammer,
saw and nails.

Squinty found himself dropped down on a bed of clean straw. In front of
him, behind him, and on either side of him were wooden slats--the sides
of the box. Squinty could look out, but the slats were as close together
as those in a chicken coop, and the little pig could not get out.

He did not want to, however, for he had made up his mind that he was
going to be a good pig, and go with the boy who had bought him for a pet