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One of us must remain with 'em, poor helpless things so so you had better go after the squeaker." "All right," said Bumpus, with a broad grin "Hallo! why, here's a spear that must ha' bin dropt by one o' them savages. That's a piece o' good luck anyhow, as the man said when he fund the fi' pun' note.
"I don't want the wolf to get them when he blows down your house." "Oh, dear!" sighed Squeaker. "I rather wish, now, he didn't have to blow over my nice wooden house, and get me. But he has to, I s'pose, 'cause it's in the book."
Down to the ground, sinuous, graceful, incessantly active flashed the marten. Along a log it raced in undulating leaps; in the middle it stopped as though frozen, to gaze intently into a bed of sedge; with three billowy bounds its sleek form reached the sedge, flashed in and out again with a mouse in its snarling jaws; a side leap now, and another squeaker was squeakless, and another.
"Don't you hear something making a noise?" asked Mrs. Pig of her husband. "Why, yes, I think I do," he answered slowly, as he looked in the feed trough, to see if the farmer had left any more sour milk there for the pig family to eat. But there was none. "I hear someone squealing," said Wuff-Wuff, the largest boy pig of them all. "So do I," said Squeaker, a little girl pig. Mrs.
"Have you been and had a look at Molly Freeborn's baby?" asked Dick Tarbrush of his messmate, Tom Buntline. "Do now, then. Such a pretty young squeaker. Bless you, it'll do your heart good. He's quite a hangel."
He had suffered enough, and the cocoa-nut was the limit! . . . 'Are ye for Glesca? Willie persisted when Macgregor was giving himself a 'tosh up' in the billet. 'Ay, am I! he snapped at last. 'Hurray for the hero! Weel, gi'e Maggie yin on the squeaker frae me, an' tell her no to greet for me, because I'm no worthy o' her pure unselfish love, etceetera.
Paul Pringle cleared his voice before speaking, and then he said, very nearly choking the baby in his mechanical attempt to pull a lock of his hair as he spoke: "We be come for to ax your honour to make a Christian of this here squeaker." The good Captain looked up with his one eye, and now perceived the small creature that Paul held in his hands.
Still, Uncle Wiggily didn't say anything, but he just sort of blinked his eyes and twinkled his pink nose, until, all of a sudden, Squeaker looked across the snowy fields, and he cried: "Here comes the bad old wolf now!" And, surely enough, along came the growling, howling creature. He ran up to the second little pig's wooden house, and, rapping on the door with his paw, cried: "Little pig!
"What's the matter with the young squeaker there, mate?" he asked in a bantering tone, thinking probably that I had broken a toy, or lost a lump of gingerbread from my pocket. "His daddy's dead, and he's no one to look after him!" shouted an urchin from the crowd of bystanders. "He's in a bad case then," replied the seaman, coming up to me.
For they were the first and second little pigs, you see. Uncle Wiggily had saved Grunter from the bad wolf when the growling creature blew down Grunter's straw house. And, in almost the same way, the bunny uncle had saved Squeaker, when his wooden house was blown over by the wolf. But Twisty-Tail, the third little pig, Uncle Wiggily had not yet helped.
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