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"No one down there could distinguish what we were saying," answered Ned, as the two drew back farther between the steel bases of the two funnels. "Well?" urged Ned. "The man referred to by Captain Petersen is Sandy Ketcham, the tall, lank fellow, with the squinty eyes and the stoop shoulders. He has a trick of peering up from under his eyelids when he looks at you." "Oh!
How high up are you going?" "Oh, about a mile, I guess." Squinty cuddled down in the basket of the balloon, between two bags full of something, and shivered. "My goodness me!" thought poor Squinty. "A mile up in the air! That's awfully high." He knew about how far a mile was on land, for it was about the distance from the farmhouse, near where his pen used to be, to the village church.
At first he was a little frightened, but when he looked over into the potato patch, and saw pig weed growing there he was happy. "Oh, what a good meal I shall have!" grunted Squinty. He ran toward a large bunch of the juicy, green pig weed, but before he reached it he heard a dreadful noise. "Bow wow! Bow wow!
"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, after all, you know, he does squint. Not that it amounts to anything, in fact it is rather stylish, I think. Let him be called Squinty." "All right," answered Mrs. Pig. So Squinty it was. "Hello, Squinty!" called the boys and girls, giving the little pig his new name. "Hello, Squinty!" "Wuff! Wuff!" grunted Squinty. That meant, in his language, "Hello!" you see.
"Be a good pig," said his mamma. "Be a brave pig," said his papa. "And and come back and see us, sometime," sniffled little Curly Tail, for she loved Squinty very much indeed. "I'll come back!" said the comical little pig. But he did not know how much was to happen before he saw his pen again.
Bob, the boy, caught up the handle of Squinty's box, and, after some bumping and tilting sideways, the little pig found himself set down in a rather dark place, for the boy had put the box on the floor of the car by his seat, near his feet. And there Squinty rode, seeing nothing, but hearing many strange noises, until, after many stops, he was lifted up again.
That was a trick Squinty had not yet learned. So he had to go along on four legs, and this made him low down. Now he had been able to look over the tops of the potato vines, as they were not very high, but Squinty could not look over the top of the corn stalks. No sooner had he gotten into the field, and started to walk along the corn rows, than he could not see where he was going.
And pigs are very fond of the yellow corn itself. They love to gnaw it off the cob, and chew it, just as you chew popcorn. But the corn was not yet ripe, and Squinty was too little to have eaten it, if it had been ripe. Later on he would learn to do this. Just now he cared more about finding his way home, and also finding something that he could eat.
"Well, if there isn't that comical little pig, Squinty! Where in the world did you come from? You've been running away, I'll be bound! Now I'm going to take you back to the pen!" "Oh, Don! I am so glad to see you!" squealed Squinty. "I I did run away, but I never will any more. I am lost. Oh, Don, don't take me by the ear. I'll go with you." "All right," barked Don, kindly. "Come along.
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