articlesforchristians

The Lost Pig

One day the blacksmith drove to Large Village. He drove in his high wagon. It was filled with many things. Some of these things were iron and rattled.

But the funniest noise in the wagon was, “Grunt, grunt.” This noise was made by a little black pig.

The blacksmith had said to him, “Little pig, I am going to take you for a drive. You shall go with me to Large Village.”

“Grunt, grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.

“There is a man at Large Village who wants you. He will feed you well. You will grow fat. Then he will make pork of you.”

“Grunt, grunt, grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.

“Now I will put you into this bag. I will tie the bag around your neck, so. Your head will be out of the bag. You can look about and enjoy your ride.

“But the bag will be around your feet. It will keep them still. So you cannot jump out of the wagon.”

“Grunt, grunt,” said the little pig.

“Now in you go! Be a good little pig. You may talk to me, if you wish. But do not try to roll out.”

The little pig did talk. He said over and over, “Grunt, grunt, grunt.”

Perhaps this meant, “I do not like to be tied up in a bag. I do not wish to be made into pork. I will roll out, if I can.”

By and by, the blacksmith overtook a man who was walking. He gave the man a ride.

Then he forgot about the little pig. He did not hear the little pig’s grunts. Instead, he talked to the man.

The little pig did not lie still. He wiggled and wiggled. At last he had wiggled to the end of the wagon.

The very next minute, out he rolled. He fell on the road, bump! But the dust was deep and soft and he was not hurt.

The blacksmith did not hear him fall. The iron in the wagon made too much noise for that. So he drove on to Large Village.

The little pig did not like the road. He did not like the bag. So he began to kick again.

Before you could think, he had rolled himself down the bank by the side of the road. There he lay.

That very same day Peter and Polly drove to Large Village. Their father took them.

Polly was driving. She was going very slowly. All at once she said, “What is that?”

“Stop and see,” said father.

“Grunt, grunt, grunt,” came from the side of the road.

“I can hear a pig,” said Peter. “But where is he?”

“I see him,” said father. And down he jumped. “Well, I never!” he said. “Somebody must have lost him out of a wagon. I call that a good joke.”

“I wonder whose pig he is,” said Polly.

“I don’t know,” said father. “But, if you like, you may ask the people we meet if they have lost him. Somebody may come back to look for him.”

So Polly asked the very next man they met.

“Lost a pig?” he said. “No, I haven’t. What do you mean?”

When they showed him the little pig he laughed. Then he drove on.

Next, they met two ladies. Polly was sure that they were driving back to look for the little pig.

So she called, “We have your pig.”

“Our pig?” said the ladies. “We have no pig.”

Then Mr. Howe told them about the pig. They smiled at Polly.

One of them said, “We have no little girl either. And I wish that we had.”

“Don’t you wish for a little boy, too?” asked Peter.

“We should very much like a little girl, a little boy, and a little black pig,” said the lady.

“Perhaps you may have the pig,” said Polly. “Perhaps we cannot find the owner.”

The ladies laughed. Then one said, “If we cannot have the girl and the boy, we will not have the pig.” And they drove on.

Soon Polly saw the blacksmith driving along. When he came near, she began to call, “We’ve found a pig! We’ve found a pig!”

At the same time the blacksmith began to call, “I’ve lost my little black pig! I’ve lost my little black pig!”

At that everybody laughed but the pig. He only said, “Grunt, grunt.”

The blacksmith took him and took Peter, too. Then they all drove to Large Village.