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To the mate's remark the skipper said "humph," and Gunter said that he was the unluckiest fellow that ever went to sea. "You're always growling, Jack," said Ned Spivin, who was fond of chaffing his mates; "they should have named you Grunter when they were at it." "I only wish the Coper was alon'side," said the skipper, "but she's always out of the way when she's wanted. Who saw her last?"
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.
"You must know," said he, "I walked about all the forenoon, till I was as tired as an old donkey, without seeing a single grunter not so much as a track of one; but as I was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go without my dinner, and " "What!" exclaimed Jack, "did you really resolve to do that?" "Now, Jack, hold your tongue," returned Peterkin.
There is a barn, which probably used to be filled annually with his hay and other agricultural products. There are sheds, and a hen-house, and a pigeon-house, and an old stone pigsty, the open portion of which is overgrown with tall weeds, indicating that no grunter has recently occupied it. . . . I have serious thoughts of inducting a new incumbent in this part of the parsonage.
And that was a day of romance; If those robber-barons were somewhat grim and drunken ogres, they had a certain grandeur of the wild beast in them, they were forest boars with tusks, tearing and rending, not the ordinary domestic grunter; they represented the demon forces forever in collision with beauty, virtue, and the gentle uses of life; they made a fine contrast in the picture with the wandering minstrel, the soft-lipped princess, the pious recluse, and the timid Israelite.
"Who are you, and what are you going to do?" "Why, I am Squeaker, the second little pig, and I am going to make a house of wood," was the answer. "Don't you remember how it reads in the Mother Goose book? 'Once upon a time there were three little pigs, named Grunter, Squeaker and " "Oh, yes, I remember!" Uncle Wiggily said.
I 'spec' the boss teched wid de rheumatiz. I'll-Hallo! w'at's dat? Jes' git out ob my way, ole grunter. Dis ole Peter." "Oh, God! help me! come here!" groaned a half audible voice. "Come to me! help me! help me!" "O Lordy!" exclaimed old Peter as he jumped back in sudden fright. "Who's dat? What you want? W'at's de matter? I don't like spirits. You can't trick me.
'Mr Boffin? inquired Venus, with a glance towards the alligator's yard or two of smile. 'Mister be blowed! cried Wegg, yielding to his honest indignation. 'Boffin. Dusty Boffin. That foxey old grunter and grinder, sir, turns into the yard this morning, to meddle with our property, a menial tool of his own, a young man by the name of Sloppy.
"Don't you remember what it says in the book? 'Once upon a time there were three little pigs, named Grunter, Squeaker and Twisty-Tail. Well, I'm Grunter, and I met a man with a load of straw, and I asked him for a bundle to make me a house. He very kindly gave it to me, and now, I'm off to build it." "May I come?" asked Uncle Wiggily. "I'll help you put up your house."
"Were you ever carried off that way, Papa?" asked Grunter, as he rubbed his back, where a mosquito had bitten him, against the side of the pen. "Oh, yes, once," answered Mr. Pig. "I was taken away from my pen, when I was pretty large, and given to a little girl for a pet. But she did not keep me long. I guess she would rather have had her dolls, so I was soon brought back to my pen.
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