"This," said Mr. Dog, "is the story of a saucy pig--a saucy, fat pig,
with a curly tail. He wasn't good to his brothers and sisters, and was
greedy, and not very clean, either, because he wouldn't wear his bib at
the table, and often grabbed things and tipped them over, instead of
being polite and taking what his mother put on his plate.
"Besides this, the saucy pig, who was called Curly, used to boast of how
strong he was, and how fast he could run and how far he could jump, and
when he heard some story about a little runt pig who ran away and made
his fortune--the same one you told, perhaps--he went around boasting
that he could do that any day, and that he could run twice as far as any
little runt pig, and get twice as fat and take twice as big a prize at
the fair."
[Illustration: AS BIG AS YOU PLEASE.]
"Well, he talked and bragged about it so much that by and by he really
believed he could do everything he said, and made up his mind to run
away sure enough. He didn't creep out through a hole and slip away, as
your little pig did, but took a pretty valise that he had got for
Christmas and put all his things in it, and some of his brothers' and
sisters' things, too, and then put on his best suit and walked out the
front door, as big as you please, with the others all looking at him and
wishing they were as big and strong as Curly, so they could go, too, or
take their playthings away from him, they didn't care which. Then one of
them ran back and said, 'Oh, ma, Curly's running away! Curly's running
away, ma, and he's taken our things!'
"But Curly's mother didn't worry much. 'Oh, well, just let him go,' she
said. 'He'll be back quick enough.' Then she took her afternoon nap, and
Curly walked out across the meadow, sniffing the sunshine and talking to
himself about what he was going to do."
[Illustration: HE COULDN'T GET THROUGH.]
"Then he remembered that the little runt pig had run, and Curly thought
he ought to run some, too, but he was so fat he couldn't run far, and
had to sit down to rest, and then he walked on again and kept walking
until he thought he must be almost to the edge of the world, which his
mother had told him was just beyond the woods. He was getting very
tired, when all at once he came to a gate and looked up, and there was
an orchard full of ripe apples and peaches, just as the little runt
pig had found. The cracks in the fence were too small for him to try to
get through, but he thought he could wiggle under the gate. So he got
down in the dust with his new clothes and wiggled and wriggled, but he
couldn't get through, and when he tried he couldn't get back, either.
"Then he began to squeal. He could squeal louder than any two other pigs
almost, and by and by Mr. Man, who was working in the next field, heard
him and came running. When Curly heard Mr. Man coming he thought, 'Now
he'll take me home and make me a great pig, just as he did the little
runt pig.' But Mr. Man didn't. 'Here, you rascal!' he said, what are you
doing under my gate? I'll fix you.' Then he picked up a long, scratchy
stick and commenced to beat Mr. Curly, first on one side and then on the
other, till he squealed and howled so loud that you could hear him
almost a mile. Then Mr. Man caught him by the leg and opened the gate
and pulled him out. 'Now, you go home!' he said, and Curly started, but
he was so frightened that he didn't know where home or any place else
was, and he scampered off without his hat or playthings, and ran and ran
and ran till he almost dropped. And just then one of my family, who had
been digging out a mole, happened to see the pig running and took after
him and caught him and dragged him round and round by the ear till Mr.
Man came running and parted them and held my relative by the collar
while he pushed Curly with his foot in the other direction.
"'Now I guess you'll go home!' he said, and Curly thought so, too, and
limped off, trying to run. It was such a long way back home that it
seemed as if he never would get there. Every minute he thought he heard
my cousin coming after him, but he couldn't run any more to save his
life, and his ear was bleeding and hurt him, and he cried and squealed,
and when at last he did get home he slipped in the back way and tried to
wash his face and brush his clothes before they saw him, but they all
saw him come in, with his sore ear and his nice, new clothes all torn
and dirty. Then they began to laugh and point at him, and said:--"
[Illustration: RAN TO HIS MOTHER.]
"'Oh, here comes Curly, the runaway. He's been to the fair and brought
home the red ribbon on his ear!' And that was the very meanest thing
they could say, for, of course, they meant the red blood on his ear, and
poor Curly ran to his mother and cried and sobbed as if his heart would
break and said he would never, never run away again as long as he lived.
"And I've heard," concluded Mr. Dog, "that he never did."