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Updated: May 10, 2025
Some nice sour milk, and boiled potatoes!" cried the boy, and then Squinty smelled the most delicious smell to him at least. Down into the trough came the sour milk and potatoes. "Squee! Squee!" yelled Squinty in delight. And how fast he ate! That was because he was hungry, you see, but pigs nearly always eat fast, as though they were continually in a hurry.
"We won't want much more ourselves, for we are nearly at our last landing place." "Squee! Squee!" squealed Squinty, when he heard this. He watched the man put some bread and milk in a tin pan, and set it down on the floor of the basket. Then Squinty put his nose in the dish and began to eat. And Oh! how good it tasted!
And how glad Squinty was when the farmer went over to the barrel, where the pigs' feed was kept, and mixed a nice pailful of sour milk with some corn meal, and poured it into the trough. "Squee! Squee!" cried Squinty as he made a rush over to get his supper. "Squee! Squee!" cried all the other little pigs, as they, too, made a rush to get more to eat. "Here! Hold on! Come back!" cried Mr. Pig.
"Squee! Squee! Squee!" They all made a rush to see who would get to the eating trough first. Some of them even put their feet in, they were so anxious. Pigs are always that way. They know no better, so we must excuse them. If they had been taught not to do that, and then did it, we would not excuse them. "Here comes the farmer with the sour milk," grunted Mr. Pig. "Oh, how good it smells!"
These were the railroad tracks, but Squinty did not know that. Then all at once, Squinty heard a loud noise, which went like this: "Whee! Whee! Whee-whee!" "Oh my! what a loud squeal that pig has!" exclaimed Squinty. "He can squeal much louder than I can, I think. Let me try." So Squinty went: "Squee! Squee! Squee!" And then the big noise sounded again, louder than before: "Whee! Whee! Toot!
Pig saw was her little boy pig down on the ground in the middle of a row of melon vines, with Don holding Squinty's ear. "Bow wow!" barked Don. "Squee! Squee!" cried Squinty. "Oh, you poor little pig!" grunted Mrs. Pig. "What has happened to you?" "Oh, mamma!" squealed Squinty.
"Squee! Squee!" grunted Squinty. "I can't!" I suppose he meant to say. "Come on!" cried the boy. "Don't be afraid. You can do it!" Squinty wanted that potato very much. And the only way to get it was to walk to it on his hind legs. If he let himself down on all four legs he knew the boy would not give him the potato. So Squinty made up his little pig mind that he would do this new trick.
And, in fact, Squinty did know much of what was said to him, though he could not talk back in boy language, being able to speak only his own pig talk. "And I guess you are hungry, too, and want something to eat," the boy went on. "I will feed you!" "Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed Squinty. If there was one word in man-talk that he understood very well, it was "feed."
"I'll get him for you, now that you have the crate all made to carry him home in on the cars." Over into the pig pen jumped the farmer. He made a grab for Squinty and caught him. "Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed Squinty, for he had never been squeezed so tightly before. "Oh, I'm not going to hurt you," said the farmer, kindly. "Squinty, be quiet," ordered his papa, in the pig language.
The balloon men carried it with them, and when they found the balloon coming down, because some of the gas had leaked out of the round ball above the basket, they would let some of the sand run out of the bags to the ground below. This would make the balloon lighter, and it would rise again. "Squee! Squee! Uff! Uff!" grunted Squinty, as he wiped the sand off his tongue on one of his legs.
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