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Updated: May 25, 2025
The pigs began to lag behind, trying to branch off at every side path so as to get a little nap in the shade or cool themselves in a mudhole. The sheep and goats, feeling the need of something in their stomachs, slipped aside whenever they spied a young birch tree whose leaves they could nibble, or a fence to peep through, or a plot of green grass.
Having found a mudhole, from which we could obtain water, all were soon busy in cooking their food, and for a time the camp was quite lively the men once more wore cheerful faces, and our former hard fare was forgotten. Hardly, however, had we prepared our meal, when the order was given to move, and the grub went down our throats on a double quick. There was considerable "jawing" about that time.
Vain and egotistical, supple and proud, libertine and gourmand, grasping from the pressure of debt, discreet as a tomb out of which nought issues to contradict the epitaph intended for the passer's eye, bold and fearless when soliciting, good-natured and witty in all acceptations of the word, a timely jester, full of tact, knowing how to compromise others by a glance or a nudge, shrinking from no mudhole, but gracefully leaping it, intrepid Voltairean, yet punctual at mass if a fashionable company could be met in Saint Thomas Aquinas, such a man as this secretary-general resembled, in one way or another, all the mediocrities who form the kernel of the political world.
Then to Grunty she said sharply, "You'd better get out of that mudhole and go dry yourself in the sun." He actually obeyed her. And as soon as Henrietta Hen saw that he was sunning himself she walked out of sight around the barn, stopping now and then to pick up some tidbit or other. "Good!" Grunty Pig grunted. "She's gone. This was the easiest way to get rid of her."
"I don't wonder old Jake Wilson was proud of his tin roof," gasped Si, as he pulled himself out of a mudhole and rolled the tin off him and Shorty. "If I'd a tin roof on my barn durned if my daughter should walk home with a man that didn't own a whole section of bottom land and drove o' mules to boot." It was fully midnight before they reached their pen and laid their burden down.
Let a pig out of his stye, afford him every conceivable opportunity of intellectual and physical improvement, and he will carefully search out the nearest mudhole unhappy until he finds it will thrust not only his nose but his body into it, and will find supreme enjoyment in wallowing in the mire; and no blame to him for this; he is grumpish by nature.
She keeps watch over him same as the sewin' circle does over the minister's wife, and it's 'No Anchorage for Females' around that house, I can tell you. "Another of her special despisin's next to old maids and young widows used to be tobacco smoke. We had a revival preacher in East Wellmouth that first winter and he stirred up things like a stick in a mudhole.
There's been enough rubbers lost in that mudhole to about fill it, so it won't take much to fill it up. We're going to have a little bridge built over that ditch on Lane Avenue so's we women don't dislocate our joints jumping over it. But first the ditch is going to be deepened and cleaned so's it won't smell so unhealthy.
One drawback, however, a drawback sufficient to mar our happiness, was not denied us. Every mile or so we had to plunge through a quagmire, equal to the worst South African mudhole, which is saying a great deal. Much care had to be exercised to prevent the horses getting fairly bogged or breaking their legs, but all passed without an accident, though our condition at the end of the day was awful.
Zeb took off his coat and then shinned up the tree. Then, hanging by his hands he began working out along the branch. As he went it bent till it hung right over the mudhole. Before long his feet dangled above the professor's head. "Now then, professor," panted Zeb, "take hold on my feet and work along toward the edge of the hole with me."
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