“Couldn’t you sleep down in the stump with me?” asked Squinty.  “It’s sort of lonesome, all by yourself in the dark.”

“Yes, I’ll sleep with you,” said Mappo.  “Now we’ll make up a nice bed.”

But, just as they were piling some more leaves in the hollow stump, they heard many voices of men shouting in the woods.

“Here he is!  Here is that runaway monkey!  I see him!  Come and catch him!” cried the men.

“Oh, they’re from the circus!  They’re after me!” cried Mappo.  “I must run and hide.  Good-by, Squinty.  I’ll see you again sometime, maybe.  You had better run, also, or the circus men may catch you.”

Squinty looked through the trees, and saw a number of men coming toward him and the monkey.  Then Mappo climbed up in a tall tree, and Squinty ran away as fast as his little short legs would take him.

“Never mind the pig!  Get the monkey!” Squinty heard one man cry, and then the comical little pig dodged under a bush, and kept on running.

When Squinty stopped running it was quite dark.  He could hardly see, and he had run into several trees, and bumped his nose a number of times.  It hurt him very much.

“Well, I guess I’m lost again,” thought Squinty.  “And I am all alone.  Oh, what a lot of things has happened to me since I was in the pen with my mamma and papa and sisters and brothers!  I wish I were back with them again.”

Squinty felt very sad and lonesome.  He wondered if the circus men had caught Mappo.  Then he felt that he had better find a place where he could cover himself up with the dry leaves, and go to sleep.

He walked about in the dark until, all of a sudden, he stumbled into a hole that was filled with dried grass.

“I guess I had better stay here,” thought Squinty.  So he pulled some of the grass over him, and went to sleep.

When he awoke the sun was shining.

“I must get my breakfast,” thought Squinty.  He hunted about until he had found some acorns, and then, coming to a little brook of water he took a long drink.  Something about the brook made Squinty look at it carefully.

“Why—­why!” he exclaimed to himself:  “It seems to me I have been here before!  Yes, I am sure I have.  This is the place where I first came to get a drink, when first I ran away.  It is near the pen where I used to live!  Oh, I wonder if I can find that?”

The heart of Squinty was beating fast as he looked around at the scenes he had seen when he was a very little pig, some weeks before.  Yes, it was the same brook.  He was sure of it.  And there was the garden of potatoes, and the cornfield where he had first lost his way.

Hark!  What was that?

Off in the rows of corn he heard a dog barking.  Somehow he knew that dog’s bark.

“If that could be Don!” thought Squinty, hopefully.

The barking sounded nearer.  Squinty turned around, standing on the edge of the little brook, and waited, his heart beating faster and faster.