“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 from the farmer.

Over the top of the box was nailed a cover with a handle to it, and by this handle the pig in the little cage could be easily carried.

“There you are!” exclaimed the farmer.  “Now he’ll be all right until you get him home.”

“And, when I do, I’ll put him in a nice big pen, and feed him well,” said the boy.  Squinty smacked his lips at that, for he was hungry even now.

“Oh, have you caged him up?  Isn’t he cute!” exclaimed one of the boy’s sisters.  “I’ll give him the core of my apple,” and she thrust it in through the slats of the box.  Squinty was very glad, indeed, to get the apple core, and he soon ate it up.

“Come on!” cried the boy’s father.  “Is the pig nailed up?  We must go for the train!”

“I wonder what the train is,” thought Squinty.  He was soon to know.  The boy lifted him up, cage and all, and put him into the wagon that was to go to the depot.  Squinty knew what a wagon was and horses, for he had seen them many times.

Then away they started.  Squinty gave a loud squeal, which was his last good-by to the other pigs in the pen, and then the wagon rattled away along the road.

Squinty had started on his journey.

CHAPTER VII

SQUINTY LEARNS A TRICK

Squinty, the comical pig, tried to look out through the slats of the box, in which he was being taken away, to see in which direction he was going.  He also wanted to watch the different sights along the road.  But the sides of the farm wagon were so high that the little pig could see nothing.  He stretched his fat neck as far as it would go, but that did no good either.  Squinty wished he were as big as his papa or his mamma.

“Then I could see what is going on,” he thought.

But just wishing never made anyone larger or taller, not even a pig, and Squinty stayed the same size.

He could hear the farmer and the children talking.  Now and then the boy who had bought Squinty, and who was taking him home, would look around at his pet in the slatted box.