It was not long before the piper had the pig killed and cut into pieces and boiling in the pot.  Only the tail was left out, for Tom wanted to make a whistle of it, and as there was plenty to eat besides the tail his father let him have it.

The piper and his son had a fine dinner that day, and so great was their hunger that the little pig was all eaten up at one meal!

Then Barney lay down to sleep, and Tom sat on a bench outside the door and began to make a whistle out of the pig’s tail with his pocket-knife.

Now Farmer Bowser, when he had finished sawing the wood, found it was time to feed the pig, so he took a pail of meal and went to the pigsty.  But when he came to the sty there was no pig to be seen, and he searched all round the place for a good hour without finding it.

“Piggy, piggy, piggy!” he called, but no piggy came, and then he knew his pig had been stolen.  He was very angry, indeed, for the pig was a great pet, and he had wanted to keep it till it grew very big.

So he put on his coat and buckled a strap around his waist, and went down to the village to see if he could find out who had stolen his pig.

Up and down the street he went, and in and out the lanes, but no traces of the pig could he find anywhere.  And that was no great wonder, for the pig was eaten by that time and its bones picked clean.

Finally the farmer came to the end of the street where the piper lived in his little hut, and there he saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing on a whistle made from a pig’s tail.

“Where did you get that tail?” asked the farmer.

“I found it,” said naughty Tom, beginning to be frightened.

“Let me see it,” demanded the farmer; and when he had looked at it carefully he cried out,

“This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know very well the curl at the end of it!  Tell me, you rascal, where is the pig?”

Then Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his wickedness was discovered.

“The pig is eat, your honor,” he answered.

The farmer said never a word, but his face grew black with anger, and, unbuckling the strap that was about his waist, he waved it around his head, and whack! came the strap over Tom’s back.

“Ow, ow!” cried the boy, and started to run down the street.

Whack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulder, for the farmer followed at his heels half-way down the street, nor did he spare the strap until he had give Tom a good beating.  And Tom was so scared that he never stopped running until he came to the end of the village, and he bawled lustily the whole way and cried out at every step as if the farmer was still a his back.

It was dark before he came back to his home, and his father was still asleep; so Tom crept into the hut and went to bed.  But he had received a good lesson and never after that could the old piper induce him to steal.