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

Then Squinty, or his brothers or sisters, would root up the hidden pig weed, and the old pigs would go to sleep again, for they did not need to practice digging, having done so when they were young.  About all they did was to eat and sleep, and tell the little pigs how to behave.

“Squinty, how is your ear that Don, the dog, bit?” asked Mrs. Pig of her little boy pig one day.

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt me,” answered Squinty.  “Don did not bite very hard.  He only wanted to catch me.”

“Yes, Don is a good dog,” said Mrs. Pig.  “But you must be careful of other dogs, Squinty.”

“Why, are not all dogs alike?” the little pig boy asked.

“Oh, no, indeed!” answered Mrs. Pig.  “Some of them are very bad and savage.  They would bite you very hard if they got the chance.  So, whenever you see any dog, except Don, running toward you, run away as fast as you can.”

“I will,” promised Squinty.  And he did not know how soon he would be glad to remember his mother’s good advice.

For some days nothing much happened in the pig pen.  Once or twice Squinty pushed his nose against the board the farmer had nailed on, but it was very tight, he found, and he could not push it off.

“Are you trying to get out again?” asked Wuff-Wuff.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Squinty would answer.  “I think it would be fun if we all could; don’t you?”

“No, indeed!” cried Wuff-Wuff.  “Some big dog might chase us.  I want to stay in the pen.”

But Squinty was a brave, bold, mischievous little pig.  He was not content to stay in the pen.  He wanted to have some adventures.  He wanted to get out in the garden, which looked so nice and green.

Squinty looked all around the other sides of the pen.  He wanted to see if there was another loose board.  If there was, he made up his little pig mind that he would go out again.  But he said nothing of this to his brothers or sisters, or to his father or mother.  He felt that they would not like him to go away again.

“But there is not much fun staying in the pen all the while,” thought Squinty.  “I wish I could get out.”

Squinty, you see, had made up his mind to run away.  Often horses run away, so I don’t see why pigs can’t, also.  Anyhow, that was what Squinty intended to do.

But, for nearly a week after his first adventure in the garden, Squinty had no chance to slip out of the pen.  All the boards seemed very tight.

Then, one day, it was very hot.  The sun shone brightly.

“Dig holes for yourselves in the cool ground, and lie down in them,” said Mrs. Pig.  “That will cool you off.”

Each little pig dug a hole for himself, just as a hen does when she wants to take a dust bath.  Squinty dug his hole near the lower edge of the boards, on one side of the pen.