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Tale of Grunty Pig

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<h3>XX</h3><h3>A NEW KIND OF PIG</h3> "Stop grunting and squealing and follow me!" old dog Spot growled. And Grunty Pig, who had just tumbled through a hole in the fence, scrambled to his feet and trotted after his guide. Old Spot had promised to show Grunty a dozen pink and white pigs, all without tails. He wanted Grunty to see how handsome they looked. "You'll like them," Spot told Grunty over his shoulder as they jogged across the farmyard. "You'll ask Farmer Green this very day to cut off your tail and nail it up on the barn. I tell you, these89 pigs look neat. There's style about them." "Umph! Umph!" said Grunty Pig as he shuffled along behind. "Now, I wonder what he meant by that!" Spot mused. It was sometimes hard to tell whether Grunty's umphs stood for yes or no. Around the corner of the farmhouse, near the woodshed door, old dog Spot came to a halt before a two-storied cage, the front of which was covered with fine-meshed wire netting. Stopping beside Spot, Grunty Pig peered inside the cage. He saw a number of odd little creatures running about upon the sawdust-strewn floor of the tiny house, one or another of them giving a faint squeak now and then as if ordering the two unasked callers to move on. Whoever they were, they were a bright-eyed90 little family. But Grunty Pig thought, as he stared at them, that they had a most peculiar look. There seemed to be something missing about them. Yet he couldn't tell just what it was. Together Grunty and Spot stood there, silent, for a time; until at last Grunty said, "Come along! Let's not stay here any longer. I want to see those twelve pigs without tails." Old dog Spot snorted. "You want to see them!" he cried. "Well, nobody's stopping you. They're right here in front of you!" Grunty Pig's mouth fell open—he was so astonished. He knew, now, what made the little, pudgy, white strangers look so queer. There wasn't one of them that had even a hint of a tail! Then all at once Grunty turned angrily upon old dog Spot. 91 "These aren't pigs!" he squealed. "You needn't think you can fool me. They're not pigs at all." "Oh, yes—they are!" Spot insisted. "You didn't suppose that all the pigs in the world were exactly like your family—did you?" Grunty didn't know what to say. He looked at the odd little creatures again. And then he looked at Spot once more. "If these really are pigs," he faltered, "they must be very, very young. They're certainly smaller than any day-old pigs I ever saw.... Maybe their tails haven't sprouted yet." Old dog Spot seemed to choke over something. He turned his head away for a moment or two before he spoke. "These pigs," he said, "won't ever have tails. Not one of them would know what to do with a tail if you gave him one.92 They don't want tails. They have no use for them. And now that you see for yourself how happy they are without tails, you ought not to delay any longer about having yours cut off. I hope," Spot added, "I'll see your tail nailed up on the barn to-morrow, where everybody can admire it." Then Grunty Pig said something that surprised him. "Why don't you have your own tail cut off?" he asked old Spot. And before old Spot could think of an answer, Johnnie Green came running out of the woodshed. "Get away from my guinea pigs!" he shouted. Grunty and Spot both turned and ran in opposite directions. Grunty didn't see Spot again for more than a week. When they did at last meet, old Spot never mentioned93 tails at all. To tell the truth, he seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself for having tried to play a trick on Grunty Pig. Or maybe he felt ashamed because he was caught at it. <hr />94 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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