wise nod of his head. "Well, it's no wonder that he made such a
mistake."
"Mistake!" Jolly Robin echoed. "Do you mean that Grunty Pig won't have
our apple tree down by fall?"
"I do," Grandfather Mole answered. "The roots of a big, old apple tree
spread out a good rod in every direction. And it would take a hundred
Grunty Pigs a whole summer to dig them free."
A broad smile spread over Jolly Robin's face.
"Then--" he ventured--"then wouldn't it take Grunty Pig a hundred
summers to dig up our tree, if he worked alone?"
"No doubt!" Grandfather replied. "Or, to be on the safe side, I'll say
he could uproot your tree in ninety-nine summers."
"Hurrah!" Jolly Robin shouted. "Hurrah--and thank you, Grandfather
Mole!" And leaving the old gentleman to dig himself out of sight, Jolly
Robin hurried home to his wife.
Mrs. Robin was glad to see him. She knew, as soon as she caught a
glimpse of his face, that he had good news for her. And she needed
cheering, poor soul! For Grunty Pig was beneath the tree again, digging
away in a most businesslike fashion.
"Let him dig!" Jolly Robin whispered to his wife. "Grandfather Mole says
it will take him ninety-nine summers to topple our tree over. And you
know that Grandfather Mole is the greatest burrower in Pleasant Valley."
Mrs. Robin felt better at once. Looking down at Grunty Pig, she said to
her husband, "How stupid this son of Mrs. Pig's is! He has turned up at
least a dozen angleworms while you've been gone. And he has let every
one of them get away from him!"
XVIII
THE LUCKIEST OF ALL
Grunty Pig found that being the smallest of the family wasn't all fun.
Not only could his brothers and sisters crowd him at the feeding trough.
Even when they were playing in the pen they often knocked him down and
walked right over him. And if he objected--as he usually did--they were
sure to laugh and call him "Runt."
Try as she would, Mrs. Pig couldn't rid her children of these boorish
ways. But she shouldn't be blamed for that. It must be remembered that
she had seven youngsters, all of the same age.
At least, Mrs. Pig did what she could to make Grunty's lot easier.
"Don't feel unhappy!" she said to him one day as he picked himself up,
whimpering, after a hard knock. "Don't feel unhappy because you are the
littlest of the family. In one way you are the luckiest of all my
children."
Grunty Pig didn't stop weeping. He saw no reason--yet--to feel more
cheerful.
"Did you know--" his mother asked him--"did you know that in one respect
you are the handsomest one of the whole litter? You have the curliest
tail of them all!"
Grunty Pig gazed, open-mouthed, at his mother. He stopped snivelling. Up
to that time he had scarcely given his tail a thought. So long as it
followed him wherever he went he had been satisfied with it.
[Illustration: Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.
(_Page 86_)]
From that moment Grunty began to think a great deal about his tail. He
was always turning his head to look at it, to make sure it hadn't lost
any of its kink. Now and then he was even late for a meal, because he
was feasting his eyes on his tail when Farmer Green came to the pen with
food for Mrs. Pig's family.
It must be confessed that Grunty sometimes boasted before his brothers
and sisters about his beautiful curly tail. And just before meal time
his brother Blackie was known, upon occasion, to mention the subject of
tails. He did that in the hope that Grunty would be late at the feeding
trough.
Sad to say, Grunty Pig was fast becoming vain. He even talked about
tails with the neighbors, taking pains to explain that his own was the
handsomest one on the farm.
Old dog Spot sniffed when Grunty boasted about his tail one day.
"Why, your tail is of no use whatsoever," Spot told him. "You can't use
it to switch a fly off your back. The Muley Cow can do that. And so can
the old horse, Ebenezer."
"Ah! But my tail is so pretty to look at!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.
"You can't puff it up to show you're angry, as Miss Kitty Cat does,"
said Spot.
"Ah! But my tail has a beautiful curl!" said Grunty Pig.
"You can't wag it, to let folks know you're friendly, as I can," said
Spot.
"Ah! But my tail is _so_ handsome!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.
XIX
DOG SPOT'S PLAN
When Grunty Pig insisted that his own tightly curled tail was the most
beautiful one in the neighborhood, old dog Spot yawned.
"If that's the case," he remarked, "I should think you'd want your tail
where you could see it more easily. Don't you find it a nuisance to have
to turn your head around every time you want to look at your tail?"
Grunty Pig admitted that his tail wasn't in the most convenient place in
the world.
"If Farmer Green should cut off your tail and nail it up on the outside
of the barn," old Spot suggested, "you could look at it easily enough.
And it would give others a better chance to see it, too. Even the people
that drive along the road could enjoy it. Everybody spoke about the tall
corn that we nailed to the barn last fall. And I'm sure that folks would
admire your tail."
When Spot spoke of Farmer Green's cutting off his tail, Grunty Pig
winced. But as the old dog talked on and on Grunty forgot the painful
part of the plan.
"There's no doubt," he agreed, "that my tail would be a fine sight,
fastened up on the barn where everybody could gaze at it. But don't you
think, Mr. Spot, that I'd look very queer without any tail?"
"N--no!" Spot told him. "N--no! I've seen plenty of pigs without tails.
They didn't look queer at all. Really, they looked better without tails
than they would have looked with them."
Grunty Pig had listened carefully to what Spot said. Yet somehow he
couldn't quite make up his mind to part with his beautiful tail, even if
it would delight many more people when nailed to the outside of the
barn.
"I'd like to see one of those pigs," he said to Spot. "I'd like to see
how they look."
"That's easily arranged," old Spot told him. "I can show you a dozen of
them--all as pink and white and happy as they can be. And not a single
one of them with a tail!"
"I'd certainly like to see them," Grunty Pig murmured.
"They're a pretty sight," Spot assured him. "Don't you think you'd feel
uncomfortable if you appeared before them with a tail? Don't you want
to have yours cut off _before_ you go to see these tailless little
fellows? It seems to me you'd be more at your ease. It would certainly
be _polite_ of you."
Grunty Pig, however, cared little for politeness. He said that nobody
was polite to him. His brothers--and even his sisters--were always
knocking him down and trampling on him.
"Very well!" said Spot. "Squirm through that fence and follow me."
It was a tight squeeze. When Grunty Pig was half through the hole in the
fence he found himself stuck fast. He could move neither forward nor
back. "Oh, dear!" he wailed. "What shall I do?"
"Keep perfectly still!" old dog Spot cautioned him--as if Grunty Pig
could do anything else. "I'll jump the fence and help you."
Now, Grunty Pig thought that old Spot intended to give him a push.
Instead, Spot nipped him smartly.
It was exactly the sort of help that Grunty needed. He gave a frantic
plunge forward and fell, sprawling, on the ground outside the yard,
where Spot soon joined him.
"It takes old Spot to hurry 'em along," said the old dog gleefully.
Grunty Pig said "Umph! Umph!"
Old dog Spot was not quite sure what he meant.
XX
A NEW KIND OF PIG
"Stop grunting and squealing and follow me!" old dog Spot growled. And
Grunty Pig, who had just tumbled through a hole in the fence, scrambled
to his feet and trotted after his guide.
Old Spot had promised to show Grunty a dozen pink and white pigs, all
without tails. He wanted Grunty to see how handsome they looked.
"You'll like them," Spot told Grunty over his shoulder as they jogged
across the farmyard. "You'll ask Farmer Green this very day to cut off
your tail and nail it up on the barn. I tell you, these pigs look
_neat_. There's _style_ about them."
"Umph! Umph!" said Grunty Pig as he shuffled along behind.
"Now, I wonder what he meant by that!" Spot mused. It was sometimes hard
to tell whether Grunty's _umphs_ stood for _yes_ or _no_.
Around the corner of the farmhouse, near the woodshed door, old dog Spot
came to a halt before a two-storied cage, the front of which was covered
with fine-meshed wire netting.
Stopping beside Spot, Grunty Pig peered inside the cage. He saw a number
of odd little creatures running about upon the sawdust-strewn floor of
the tiny house, one or another of them giving a faint squeak now and
then as if ordering the two unasked callers to move on.
Whoever they were, they were a bright-eyed little family. But Grunty
Pig thought, as he stared at them, that they had a most peculiar look.
There seemed to be something missing about them. Yet he couldn't tell
just what it was.
Together Grunty and Spot stood there, silent, for a time; until at last
Grunty said, "Come along! Let's not stay here any longer. I want to see
those twelve pigs without tails."
Old dog Spot snorted.
"You _want_ to see them!" he cried. "Well, nobody's stopping you.
They're right here in front of you!"
Grunty Pig's mouth fell open--he was so astonished. He knew, now, what
made the little, pudgy, white strangers look so queer. There wasn't one
of them that had even a hint of a tail!
Then all at once Grunty turned angrily upon old dog Spot.
"These aren't pigs!" he squealed. "You needn't think you can fool me.
They're not pigs at all."
"Oh, yes--they are!" Spot insisted. "You didn't suppose that all the
pigs in the world were exactly like your family--did you?"
Grunty didn't know what to say. He looked at the odd little creatures
again. And then he looked at Spot once more.
"If these really are pigs," he faltered, "they must be very, very young.
They're certainly smaller than any day-old pigs I ever saw.... Maybe
their tails haven't sprouted yet."
Old dog Spot seemed to choke over something. He turned his head away for
a moment or two before he spoke.
"These pigs," he said, "won't ever have tails. Not one of them would
know what to do with a tail if you gave him one. They don't want tails.
They have no use for them. And now that you see for yourself how happy
they are without tails, you ought not to delay any longer about having
yours cut off. I hope," Spot added, "I'll see your tail nailed up on the
barn to-morrow, where everybody can admire it."
Then Grunty Pig said something that surprised him.
"Why don't you have your own tail cut off?" he asked old Spot.
And before old Spot could think of an answer, Johnnie Green came running
out of the woodshed.
"Get away from my guinea pigs!" he shouted.
Grunty and Spot both turned and ran in opposite directions. Grunty
didn't see Spot again for more than a week. When they did at last meet,
old Spot never mentioned tails at all. To tell the truth, he seemed to
feel somewhat ashamed of himself for having tried to play a trick on
Grunty Pig.
Or maybe he felt ashamed because he was caught at it.
XXI
BEECHNUTS
Down the hill, a little way from Farmer Green's house, a great beech
tree stood beside the road. In the fall, when the nuts were ripe,
Johnnie Green often visited the tree. And so did Frisky Squirrel. And
so, likewise, did that noisy rascal, Jasper Jay. They liked
beechnuts--all three. And somehow they got the notion that the beech
tree belonged to them--and to nobody else.
One fine, crisp fall day when Johnnie Green was in school, a fourth
nut-lover wandered down the road, stopped right between the wheel
tracks, and sniffed. It was Grunty Pig. "I smell beechnuts!" he cried
with a joyful squeal. And crashing into the light underbrush along the
roadside, he began to search among the fallen leaves with his long nose.
Soon Grunty came upon a cluster of the three-sided nuts, clinging inside
a bur that the frost had split open. He ate the sweet nuts, shells and
all. And with many a grunt of delight he grubbed beneath the tree from
which the nuts had fallen. His keen nose led him to burs that Johnnie
Green had trampled over that very morning, and missed.
"I wonder--" said Grunty Pig aloud--"I wonder why nobody ever told me
about this beech tree."
"Perhaps it was because you are a pig," said a voice right over his
head.
He looked up. And there on a low branch sat Frisky Squirrel. Grunty
knew him; he had sometimes seen him around Farmer Green's corncrib.
"Of course I'm a Pig," Grunty retorted. "I'm Mrs. Pig's son."
"Well, Mrs. Pig's son, I notice that you have helped yourself freely to
beechnuts."
"I've eaten all I could find," Grunty told Frisky with a grin.
"I don't hear any thanks," Frisky Squirrel remarked. "Don't you know
that these beechnuts belong to me and Jasper Jay and Johnnie Green?"
"Umph!"
"You did?" Frisky inquired.
"Umph!"
"Oh, you didn't!" Frisky exclaimed. "Then I suppose I shall have to
pardon you. But Jasper Jay wouldn't, if he caught you taking any of the
nuts that fall from this tree."
There was truth in what Frisky said. Even as he spoke a patch of blue
flashed in the top of the beech tree. And a harsh voice sang out,
"What's going on here?"
Jasper Jay had arrived.
Grunty Pig, however, did not even give Jasper a glance. Instead, he
began nosing about for another beechnut bur.
For a moment or two Jasper Jay watched him. And then Jasper began to
squawk.
"Stop that!" he ordered. "Don't you dare to take any of our beechnuts!"
"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "I can't find any more on the ground. So I
suppose I shall have to obey him," Grunty muttered half under his
breath.
"Don't mumble! Speak up!" cried Jasper Jay. "If you have any excuses to
make, let's hear them!"
XXII
JASPER JAY OBJECTS
While Jasper Jay, in the beech tree, waited for Grunty Pig, on the
ground, to speak up and make his excuses for taking beechnuts, a bur
dropped from a twig and landed right in front of Grunty's nose. He fell
upon it greedily. And, tearing it open, he devoured the nuts with
relish.
For a few moments his action struck Jasper Jay dumb. That blue-coated
rascal turned to Frisky Squirrel, who clung to a limb near-by.
"Well, did you ever?" Jasper gasped. And then, having found his voice,
Jasper began to use it on Grunty Pig.
Now, Jasper Jay was a wild fellow. He often used words that made the
gentler folk in Pleasant Valley shudder. And he called Grunty Pig names
that would have made many a person angry.
Grunty Pig, however, never even blinked. And after a while Jasper Jay
used up all his special words, which he generally employed at such
times. He gave Frisky Squirrel a helpless look.
"My! My! Isn't this chap thick-skinned?" he exclaimed.
"Certainly I am!" cried Grunty Pig. "That's why I like to wallow in
mud."
"Ha!" Jasper Jay sniffed. And he spoke again to Frisky Squirrel. "This
chap is thick-headed, too. I see that I'm going to have trouble making
him understand what I say."
Frisky Squirrel merely grinned at his companion.
"Look here, young Porker!" Jasper called to Grunty Pig. "Doesn't Farmer
Green feed you?"
The name "Porker" made Grunty Pig look up.
"I'm Mrs. Pig's son," he said. "Don't call me 'Porker'!"
"Well--Pig, then!" Jasper Jay squalled. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"
"Yes!"
"Well, then--don't come here and take our nuts! Didn't your mother ever
teach you that things that grow on trees--such things as nuts--belong to
the people that live in the trees?"
"Does Johnnie Green live in this tree?" Grunty Pig inquired.
"He spends half his time here--or a quarter, anyhow," Jasper Jay
grumbled. "And you may be sure he gets his share of these beechnuts.
Goodness knows he leaves few enough for me and my friend here.
"Now," Jasper Jay went on, "I want you to promise not to eat any more of
our nuts."
Grunty Pig shook his head.
"I can't promise that, exactly," he said. "But I'll promise not to eat
any that I don't find on the ground."
"Huh!" Jasper Jay scoffed. "That means that you won't eat any nuts that
you can't reach. That's no promise at all. It's nothing but a threat.
It's the same as saying that you're going to eat every nut that drops
off this tree."
Grunty Pig made no reply. He would have wandered on, but for a fresh
breeze that had begun to whip the branches of the beech tree. He decided
to wait there. More burs might fall. And Grunty wanted to be on hand to
meet them when they dropped.
"Go home!" Jasper Jay shrieked at him. "Go back to your pigpen where you
belong. We don't want you here." And he said many more things that were
still ruder.
But Grunty Pig never showed the least sign of anger. He didn't even let
Jasper Jay know that he had heard. When the wind died down he waddled
off down the road. And Frisky Squirrel followed him through the tree
tops. When they had travelled out of Jasper Jay's sight and hearing,
Frisky asked Grunty Pig a question.
"I should like to know," he said, "how you managed to keep still when
Jasper was abusing you. I know that I should have lost my temper. Can it
be that you didn't hear what he said?"
"Oh, I heard him clearly enough," said Grunty. "But there was no sense
in my getting angry with _him_. If he had been standing on the ground
near me he would never have dared talk to me as he did. Jasper Jay
called me names because he was safe in the tree. If he hadn't had that
tree to help him he'd never have dared say what he did.
"To tell the truth, I am a bit out of patience with that beech tree,"
Grunty confessed. "It played me a mean trick. And I hope there'll be a
raging wind to-night that will rob it of every bur it has.... I'd uproot
the beech," he added, "if I didn't like beechnuts so much."
"Well, you _are_ an odd one," said Frisky Squirrel.
"If everybody was as odd as I am there'd be fewer Jasper Jays in the
world," Grunty Pig declared.
XXIII
MOSES MOUSE'S WAY
One day when Grunty Pig was at home, in the pigpen, a squeaky voiced
piped "Good morning!" to him. Looking up, Grunty saw a plump little
gentleman clinging to the top board on one side of the pen.
"Good morning!" Grunty answered. "May I inquire what your name is?"
"I'm Moses Mouse," his caller replied.
"Do you live in the piggery?--or in the barn?" Grunty asked him.
"Neither!" said Moses Mouse. "I live in the farmhouse. My wife and I
have a nest in the wall.... The cat's away," he explained. "That's why
I decided to stroll across the yard and visit you folks out here."
"Some people," said Grunty Pig, "have all the luck. You live in the
farmhouse. Miss Kitty Cat lives in the farmhouse--when she's at home.
And old dog Spot spends a good deal of his time there--especially in
cold weather. It must be pleasant to have your home where there's always
plenty to eat, whenever you happen to feel hungry."
"Miss Kitty Cat and old dog Spot always fare well," Mr. Mouse admitted.
"But I've often gone to bed half starved. Maybe you didn't know that
Mrs. Green is terribly neat. She doesn't leave much food around for us
Mice."
"Well," Grunty remarked, "it's an honor, anyhow, to live in the
farmhouse. You ought not to complain about the food, even if it is a
bit scarce at times. I'd be glad to live there. And I dare say I'd find
a plenty to eat. The farmhouse is where the sour milk comes from."
"If you feel like that," said Moses Mouse, "why don't you join us? Why
don't you come to the farmhouse for the winter, anyhow?"
Grunty Pig shook his head.
"No!" he said, half to himself. "No! I can't do it."
"Why not?" Mr. Mouse wanted to know.
"I've never been invited," Grunty told him, with something like a frown.
Moses Mouse surprised him with a merry laugh.
"Ho!" he exclaimed. "Neither have I. If I had waited for an invitation I
wouldn't be living in the farmhouse. I'd have shivered my days out in
the barn."
Grunty Pig looked at his caller with growing interest. He would have
said that so tiny a gentleman would be too timid to crowd in where he
wasn't asked.
"Don't wait any longer for an invitation," Moses Mouse urged him. "Go to
the farmhouse and walk right in."
"Oughtn't I to rap?" Grunty inquired.
"Certainly not!" said Moses Mouse. "Make yourself right at home. Act as
if the farmhouse belonged to you. That's the way I do. And nobody ever
bothers me, except Miss Kitty Cat--or Miss Snooper, as we Mice call her.
Even she can't drive me away from the farmhouse. I lived there before
she ever came to Pleasant Valley."
"She certainly couldn't drive me away," Grunty Pig muttered. "Besides,
didn't you say she was away herself?"
"Yes!" said Moses Mouse. "And I hope she has gone for good."
"Then," said Grunty Pig, "it ought to be quite safe for me to go to the
farmhouse. And as soon as I have a chance to get out of this pen I'll do
as you suggest."
"Good!" cried Moses Mouse. And he said that he hoped to have many a chat
with Grunty, at the farmhouse.
"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. And Mr. Mouse was much pleased, for he took
that to mean "Yes!"
XXIV
A PIG IN THE PARLOR
Grunty Pig had got out of his pen and out of the piggery, too. Ever
since his talk with Moses Mouse the day before he had been hoping for a
chance to escape. And shuffling across the farmyard somewhat
heavily--for he was growing longer and taller and fatter every
day--Grunty went straight to the woodshed door. It was open. And he
walked through it. Then he clattered over the woodshed floor and peered
into the kitchen. There was no one there.
For a few moments Grunty stood sniffing in the doorway. A delicious
odor greeted him. He wasn't sure what it was. A pan sat near the edge
of the table. And Grunty Pig had no trouble upsetting it with his nose.
Doughnuts rolled in every direction--crisp, brown, freshly fried
doughnuts. And Grunty Pig showed that he was thoughtful. He went to the
trouble of picking them all up off the floor. But he forgot to drop them
back into the pan. Instead, he put every one of them into his own mouth.
"That Moses Mouse was all wrong," he murmured. "He complained of the
food here. When I see him I'll have to tell him that he was mistaken.
Why, I never ate anything that tasted better than these rings!"
After making sure that there was nothing else for him to devour in the
kitchen Grunty Pig pushed through a door that stood ajar. He found
himself in a long, dimly lighted hall. There were doors on both sides of
it. Grunty nosed around each one in turn. Not till he came to the last
of all, at the further end of the hall, did he find one that wasn't shut
tight. This door yielded to a little gentle pushing. And Grunty then
found himself--though he did not know it--in the parlor of the
farmhouse.
As he stood still and gazed about him, who should come stealing into the
room but Moses Mouse.
"Ah!" said Moses in a whisper. "So you've arrived at last?"
"Yes!" said Grunty Pig. "Isn't this a fine pen? Now that I've come to
the farmhouse to live I believe I'll make this pen my headquarters."
"That's a good idea," Moses Mouse told him. "Farmer Green's family don't
use it often. They seldom come here unless they have company."
While he listened, Grunty Pig sidled up to a table in the center of the
room and began, in an absent-minded fashion, to rub his back against it.
To his surprise, the table tipped over and a lamp that had stood upon it
crashed into a hundred pieces on the floor. Then a door slammed
somewhere. And steps sounded in the hall.
Moses Mouse tried not to look startled.
"I must be going now," he said abruptly. "I'll see you later." Then he
dashed into the fireplace and ran up the chimney.
"The accident was really your fault," Grunty called to him. "If you
hadn't talked so much I'd have noticed what I was doing."
Moses Mouse, however, did not reply. And a moment later Farmer Green's
wife appeared in the doorway. When she saw Grunty Pig she gave a scream.
Mrs. Green couldn't help being surprised at first. But soon she began to
laugh as if she would never stop.
"A pig in our parlor!" she cried. "Who ever would have thought it?"
Grunty Pig tried to explain that the broken lamp was really Moses
Mouse's fault. But Mrs. Green wouldn't listen. She ran out of the room
and came back at once with a broom in her hand. Then, opening the front
door, she drove Grunty Pig into the yard.
"Now, I wonder why Mrs. Green put me out of the farmhouse," he muttered.
Suddenly an idea popped into his head. "It must be," he cried, "because
I told tales. I tattled on Moses Mouse; and Mrs. Green didn't like it.
Next time I'll be careful about what I say to her."
There never was a next time. Perhaps Farmer Green took pains to keep the
door of Grunty's pen shut. Perhaps Farmer Green made the fence outside
the piggery "hog tight," as he would say. Or perhaps Grunty Pig grew so
fat that he couldn't squeeze through any ordinary opening.