“Ha!  That must be one of the hop toads I heard my mother tell about,” thought Squinty.  “I must not hurt them, for they are good to catch the flies that tickle me when I try to sleep.  Hop on,” he said to the toad.  “I won’t bother you.”

[Illustration:  “Hop on,” he said to the toad, “I won’t bother you.”]

The toad did not stop to say anything.  She just hopped on, and hid under a big stone.  Maybe she was afraid of Squinty, but he would not have hurt her.

Soon the little pig came to the brook of cool water, and after looking about, to see that there was no danger near, Squinty waded in, and took a long drink.  Then he rolled over and over again in it, washing off all the mud and dirt, and coming out as clean and as pink as a little baby.  Squinty was a real nice pig, even if he had run away.

“Let me see,” he said to himself, after his bath.  “What shall I do now?  Which way shall I go?”

Well, he happened to be hungry after his swim.  In fact Squinty was very often hungry, so he thought he would see if he could find anything more to eat.

“I have had potatoes and pig weed,” he thought, “and now I would like some apples.  I wonder if there are any apple trees around here?”

He looked and, across the field of corn, he thought he saw an apple tree.  He made up his mind to go there.

And that is where Squinty made another mistake.  He made one when he ran away from the pen, and another one when he started to go through the corn field.

Corn, you know, grows quite high, and pigs, even the largest of them, are not very tall.  At least not until they stand on their hind legs.  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.  He could not even see the apple tree in the middle of the field.

“Well, this is queer,” thought Squinty.  “I guess I had better go back.  No, I will keep on.  I may come to the apple tree soon.”

He hurried on between the corn rows.  But, though he went a long distance, he did not come to the apple tree.

“I guess I will go back to the brook, where I had my bath, and start over again from there,” thought Squinty.  “I will not try to get any apples to-day.  I will eat only potatoes and pig weed.  Yes, I will go back.”

But that was not so easy to do as he had thought.  Squinty went this way and that, through the rows of corn, but he could not find the brook.  He could not find his way back, nor could he find the apple tree.  On all sides of him was the tall corn.  That was all poor Squinty could see.

Finally, all tired out, and dusty, the little pig stopped, and sighed: