Chapter 3

Jolly Robin gave a cheerful chirp. Everybody knew that Grandfather Mole was the champion digger of Pleasant Valley. And if he couldn't answer Mrs. Robin's question, then no one could.

XVII

A PUZZLE SOLVED

"Good morning, Grandfather Mole!" Jolly Robin called.

"What!" cried Grandfather Mole. "Have I made the mistake again of coming up on top of Farmer Green's garden?"

"You certainly have," Jolly told him.

"I must be getting old," said Grandfather Mole. "I'm growing more careless every day. I didn't mean to dig my way above ground." And then, thrusting his long nose right into the dirt, he began to burrow out of sight.

"Stop! Please stop!" Jolly Robin besought him. "I want to ask you a question about digging."

Grandfather Mole pulled his nose out of the ground.

"What's your question?" he inquired.

"It's about Grunty Pig," Jolly Robin began.

"I thought you said it was about digging," Grandfather Mole grumbled. And he started to burrow once more.

"So it is!" Jolly exclaimed. "I want to know how long it will take Grunty Pig to dig up the apple tree where I live."

Again Grandfather Mole paused.

"It all depends," he muttered. "It all depends on how much of his time he spends at digging."

"He works every day," said Jolly Robin. "A good, long while every day!"

Grandfather Mole appeared to be thinking deeply.

"He boasts--" Jolly Robin explained--"he boasts that he will have the tree uprooted before fall."

"Nonsense!" Grandfather Mole snorted. "If Grunty Pig says that, he doesn't know much about apple trees. He may be a fair digger; but he must be stupid."

"That's what I've always thought!" Jolly Robin exclaimed.

"He can't go very deep into things, or he'd never have made such a boast," Grandfather Mole declared. "When Grunty Pig digs, does he dig right down out of sight?"

"Oh, no! Never!" said Jolly Robin.

"Ah! He merely scratches the surface!" Grandfather Mole remarked with a wise nod of his head. "Well, it's no wonder that he made such a mistake."

"Mistake!" Jolly Robin echoed. "Do you mean that Grunty Pig won't have our apple tree down by fall?"

"I do," Grandfather Mole answered. "The roots of a big, old apple tree spread out a good rod in every direction. And it would take a hundred Grunty Pigs a whole summer to dig them free."

A broad smile spread over Jolly Robin's face.

"Then--" he ventured--"then wouldn't it take Grunty Pig a hundred summers to dig up our tree, if he worked alone?"

"No doubt!" Grandfather replied. "Or, to be on the safe side, I'll say he could uproot your tree in ninety-nine summers."

"Hurrah!" Jolly Robin shouted. "Hurrah--and thank you, Grandfather Mole!" And leaving the old gentleman to dig himself out of sight, Jolly Robin hurried home to his wife.

Mrs. Robin was glad to see him. She knew, as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face, that he had good news for her. And she needed cheering, poor soul! For Grunty Pig was beneath the tree again, digging away in a most businesslike fashion.

"Let him dig!" Jolly Robin whispered to his wife. "Grandfather Mole says it will take him ninety-nine summers to topple our tree over. And you know that Grandfather Mole is the greatest burrower in Pleasant Valley."

Mrs. Robin felt better at once. Looking down at Grunty Pig, she said to her husband, "How stupid this son of Mrs. Pig's is! He has turned up at least a dozen angleworms while you've been gone. And he has let every one of them get away from him!"

XVIII

THE LUCKIEST OF ALL

Grunty Pig found that being the smallest of the family wasn't all fun. Not only could his brothers and sisters crowd him at the feeding trough. Even when they were playing in the pen they often knocked him down and walked right over him. And if he objected--as he usually did--they were sure to laugh and call him "Runt."

Try as she would, Mrs. Pig couldn't rid her children of these boorish ways. But she shouldn't be blamed for that. It must be remembered that she had seven youngsters, all of the same age.

At least, Mrs. Pig did what she could to make Grunty's lot easier.

"Don't feel unhappy!" she said to him one day as he picked himself up, whimpering, after a hard knock. "Don't feel unhappy because you are the littlest of the family. In one way you are the luckiest of all my children."

Grunty Pig didn't stop weeping. He saw no reason--yet--to feel more cheerful.

"Did you know--" his mother asked him--"did you know that in one respect you are the handsomest one of the whole litter? You have the curliest tail of them all!"

Grunty Pig gazed, open-mouthed, at his mother. He stopped snivelling. Up to that time he had scarcely given his tail a thought. So long as it followed him wherever he went he had been satisfied with it.

From that moment Grunty began to think a great deal about his tail. He was always turning his head to look at it, to make sure it hadn't lost any of its kink. Now and then he was even late for a meal, because he was feasting his eyes on his tail when Farmer Green came to the pen with food for Mrs. Pig's family.

It must be confessed that Grunty sometimes boasted before his brothers and sisters about his beautiful curly tail. And just before meal time his brother Blackie was known, upon occasion, to mention the subject of tails. He did that in the hope that Grunty would be late at the feeding trough.

Sad to say, Grunty Pig was fast becoming vain. He even talked about tails with the neighbors, taking pains to explain that his own was the handsomest one on the farm.

Old dog Spot sniffed when Grunty boasted about his tail one day.

"Why, your tail is of no use whatsoever," Spot told him. "You can't use it to switch a fly off your back. The Muley Cow can do that. And so can the old horse, Ebenezer."

"Ah! But my tail is so pretty to look at!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.

"You can't puff it up to show you're angry, as Miss Kitty Cat does," said Spot.

"Ah! But my tail has a beautiful curl!" said Grunty Pig.

"You can't wag it, to let folks know you're friendly, as I can," said Spot.

"Ah! But my tail is _so_ handsome!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.

XIX

DOG SPOT'S PLAN

When Grunty Pig insisted that his own tightly curled tail was the most beautiful one in the neighborhood, old dog Spot yawned.

"If that's the case," he remarked, "I should think you'd want your tail where you could see it more easily. Don't you find it a nuisance to have to turn your head around every time you want to look at your tail?"

Grunty Pig admitted that his tail wasn't in the most convenient place in the world.

"If Farmer Green should cut off your tail and nail it up on the outside of the barn," old Spot suggested, "you could look at it easily enough. And it would give others a better chance to see it, too. Even the people that drive along the road could enjoy it. Everybody spoke about the tall corn that we nailed to the barn last fall. And I'm sure that folks would admire your tail."

When Spot spoke of Farmer Green's cutting off his tail, Grunty Pig winced. But as the old dog talked on and on Grunty forgot the painful part of the plan.

"There's no doubt," he agreed, "that my tail would be a fine sight, fastened up on the barn where everybody could gaze at it. But don't you think, Mr. Spot, that I'd look very queer without any tail?"

"N--no!" Spot told him. "N--no! I've seen plenty of pigs without tails. They didn't look queer at all. Really, they looked better without tails than they would have looked with them."

Grunty Pig had listened carefully to what Spot said. Yet somehow he couldn't quite make up his mind to part with his beautiful tail, even if it would delight many more people when nailed to the outside of the barn.

"I'd like to see one of those pigs," he said to Spot. "I'd like to see how they look."

"That's easily arranged," old Spot told him. "I can show you a dozen of them--all as pink and white and happy as they can be. And not a single one of them with a tail!"

"I'd certainly like to see them," Grunty Pig murmured.

"They're a pretty sight," Spot assured him. "Don't you think you'd feel uncomfortable if you appeared before them with a tail? Don't you want to have yours cut off _before_ you go to see these tailless little fellows? It seems to me you'd be more at your ease. It would certainly be _polite_ of you."

Grunty Pig, however, cared little for politeness. He said that nobody was polite to him. His brothers--and even his sisters--were always knocking him down and trampling on him.

"Very well!" said Spot. "Squirm through that fence and follow me."

It was a tight squeeze. When Grunty Pig was half through the hole in the fence he found himself stuck fast. He could move neither forward nor back. "Oh, dear!" he wailed. "What shall I do?"

"Keep perfectly still!" old dog Spot cautioned him--as if Grunty Pig could do anything else. "I'll jump the fence and help you."

Now, Grunty Pig thought that old Spot intended to give him a push. Instead, Spot nipped him smartly.

It was exactly the sort of help that Grunty needed. He gave a frantic plunge forward and fell, sprawling, on the ground outside the yard, where Spot soon joined him.

"It takes old Spot to hurry 'em along," said the old dog gleefully.

Grunty Pig said "Umph! Umph!"

Old dog Spot was not quite sure what he meant.

XX

A NEW KIND OF PIG

"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, these 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-eyed 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.

"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. 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 mentioned 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.

XXI

BEECHNUTS

Down the hill, a little way from Farmer Green's house, a great beech tree stood beside the road. In the fall, when the nuts were ripe, Johnnie Green often visited the tree. And so did Frisky Squirrel. And so, likewise, did that noisy rascal, Jasper Jay. They liked beechnuts--all three. And somehow they got the notion that the beech tree belonged to them--and to nobody else.

One fine, crisp fall day when Johnnie Green was in school, a fourth nut-lover wandered down the road, stopped right between the wheel tracks, and sniffed. It was Grunty Pig. "I smell beechnuts!" he cried with a joyful squeal. And crashing into the light underbrush along the roadside, he began to search among the fallen leaves with his long nose.

Soon Grunty came upon a cluster of the three-sided nuts, clinging inside a bur that the frost had split open. He ate the sweet nuts, shells and all. And with many a grunt of delight he grubbed beneath the tree from which the nuts had fallen. His keen nose led him to burs that Johnnie Green had trampled over that very morning, and missed.

"I wonder--" said Grunty Pig aloud--"I wonder why nobody ever told me about this beech tree."

"Perhaps it was because you are a pig," said a voice right over his head.

He looked up. And there on a low branch sat Frisky Squirrel. Grunty knew him; he had sometimes seen him around Farmer Green's corncrib.

"Of course I'm a Pig," Grunty retorted. "I'm Mrs. Pig's son."

"Well, Mrs. Pig's son, I notice that you have helped yourself freely to beechnuts."

"I've eaten all I could find," Grunty told Frisky with a grin.

"I don't hear any thanks," Frisky Squirrel remarked. "Don't you know that these beechnuts belong to me and Jasper Jay and Johnnie Green?"

"Umph!"

"You did?" Frisky inquired.

"Umph!"

"Oh, you didn't!" Frisky exclaimed. "Then I suppose I shall have to pardon you. But Jasper Jay wouldn't, if he caught you taking any of the nuts that fall from this tree."

There was truth in what Frisky said. Even as he spoke a patch of blue flashed in the top of the beech tree. And a harsh voice sang out, "What's going on here?"

Jasper Jay had arrived.

Grunty Pig, however, did not even give Jasper a glance. Instead, he began nosing about for another beechnut bur.

For a moment or two Jasper Jay watched him. And then Jasper began to squawk.

"Stop that!" he ordered. "Don't you dare to take any of our beechnuts!"

"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. "I can't find any more on the ground. So I suppose I shall have to obey him," Grunty muttered half under his breath.

"Don't mumble! Speak up!" cried Jasper Jay. "If you have any excuses to make, let's hear them!"

XXII

JASPER JAY OBJECTS

While Jasper Jay, in the beech tree, waited for Grunty Pig, on the ground, to speak up and make his excuses for taking beechnuts, a bur dropped from a twig and landed right in front of Grunty's nose. He fell upon it greedily. And, tearing it open, he devoured the nuts with relish.

For a few moments his action struck Jasper Jay dumb. That blue-coated rascal turned to Frisky Squirrel, who clung to a limb near-by.

"Well, did you ever?" Jasper gasped. And then, having found his voice, Jasper began to use it on Grunty Pig.

Now, Jasper Jay was a wild fellow. He often used words that made the gentler folk in Pleasant Valley shudder. And he called Grunty Pig names that would have made many a person angry.

Grunty Pig, however, never even blinked. And after a while Jasper Jay used up all his special words, which he generally employed at such times. He gave Frisky Squirrel a helpless look.

"My! My! Isn't this chap thick-skinned?" he exclaimed.

"Certainly I am!" cried Grunty Pig. "That's why I like to wallow in mud."

"Ha!" Jasper Jay sniffed. And he spoke again to Frisky Squirrel. "This chap is thick-headed, too. I see that I'm going to have trouble making him understand what I say."

Frisky Squirrel merely grinned at his companion.

"Look here, young Porker!" Jasper called to Grunty Pig. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"

The name "Porker" made Grunty Pig look up.

"I'm Mrs. Pig's son," he said. "Don't call me 'Porker'!"

"Well--Pig, then!" Jasper Jay squalled. "Doesn't Farmer Green feed you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then--don't come here and take our nuts! Didn't your mother ever teach you that things that grow on trees--such things as nuts--belong to the people that live in the trees?"

"Does Johnnie Green live in this tree?" Grunty Pig inquired.

"He spends half his time here--or a quarter, anyhow," Jasper Jay grumbled. "And you may be sure he gets his share of these beechnuts. Goodness knows he leaves few enough for me and my friend here.

"Now," Jasper Jay went on, "I want you to promise not to eat any more of our nuts."

Grunty Pig shook his head.

"I can't promise that, exactly," he said. "But I'll promise not to eat any that I don't find on the ground."

"Huh!" Jasper Jay scoffed. "That means that you won't eat any nuts that you can't reach. That's no promise at all. It's nothing but a threat. It's the same as saying that you're going to eat every nut that drops off this tree."

Grunty Pig made no reply. He would have wandered on, but for a fresh breeze that had begun to whip the branches of the beech tree. He decided to wait there. More burs might fall. And Grunty wanted to be on hand to meet them when they dropped.

"Go home!" Jasper Jay shrieked at him. "Go back to your pigpen where you belong. We don't want you here." And he said many more things that were still ruder.

But Grunty Pig never showed the least sign of anger. He didn't even let Jasper Jay know that he had heard. When the wind died down he waddled off down the road. And Frisky Squirrel followed him through the tree tops. When they had travelled out of Jasper Jay's sight and hearing, Frisky asked Grunty Pig a question.

"I should like to know," he said, "how you managed to keep still when Jasper was abusing you. I know that I should have lost my temper. Can it be that you didn't hear what he said?"

"Oh, I heard him clearly enough," said Grunty. "But there was no sense in my getting angry with _him_. If he had been standing on the ground near me he would never have dared talk to me as he did. Jasper Jay called me names because he was safe in the tree. If he hadn't had that tree to help him he'd never have dared say what he did.

"To tell the truth, I am a bit out of patience with that beech tree," Grunty confessed. "It played me a mean trick. And I hope there'll be a raging wind to-night that will rob it of every bur it has.... I'd uproot the beech," he added, "if I didn't like beechnuts so much."

"Well, you _are_ an odd one," said Frisky Squirrel.

"If everybody was as odd as I am there'd be fewer Jasper Jays in the world," Grunty Pig declared.

XXIII

MOSES MOUSE'S WAY

One day when Grunty Pig was at home, in the pigpen, a squeaky voiced piped "Good morning!" to him. Looking up, Grunty saw a plump little gentleman clinging to the top board on one side of the pen.

"Good morning!" Grunty answered. "May I inquire what your name is?"

"I'm Moses Mouse," his caller replied.

"Do you live in the piggery?--or in the barn?" Grunty asked him.

"Neither!" said Moses Mouse. "I live in the farmhouse. My wife and I have a nest in the wall.... The cat's away," he explained. "That's why I decided to stroll across the yard and visit you folks out here."

"Some people," said Grunty Pig, "have all the luck. You live in the farmhouse. Miss Kitty Cat lives in the farmhouse--when she's at home. And old dog Spot spends a good deal of his time there--especially in cold weather. It must be pleasant to have your home where there's always plenty to eat, whenever you happen to feel hungry."

"Miss Kitty Cat and old dog Spot always fare well," Mr. Mouse admitted. "But I've often gone to bed half starved. Maybe you didn't know that Mrs. Green is terribly neat. She doesn't leave much food around for us Mice."

"Well," Grunty remarked, "it's an honor, anyhow, to live in the farmhouse. You ought not to complain about the food, even if it is a bit scarce at times. I'd be glad to live there. And I dare say I'd find a plenty to eat. The farmhouse is where the sour milk comes from."

"If you feel like that," said Moses Mouse, "why don't you join us? Why don't you come to the farmhouse for the winter, anyhow?"

Grunty Pig shook his head.

"No!" he said, half to himself. "No! I can't do it."

"Why not?" Mr. Mouse wanted to know.

"I've never been invited," Grunty told him, with something like a frown.

Moses Mouse surprised him with a merry laugh.

"Ho!" he exclaimed. "Neither have I. If I had waited for an invitation I wouldn't be living in the farmhouse. I'd have shivered my days out in the barn."

Grunty Pig looked at his caller with growing interest. He would have said that so tiny a gentleman would be too timid to crowd in where he wasn't asked.

"Don't wait any longer for an invitation," Moses Mouse urged him. "Go to the farmhouse and walk right in."

"Oughtn't I to rap?" Grunty inquired.

"Certainly not!" said Moses Mouse. "Make yourself right at home. Act as if the farmhouse belonged to you. That's the way I do. And nobody ever bothers me, except Miss Kitty Cat--or Miss Snooper, as we Mice call her. Even she can't drive me away from the farmhouse. I lived there before she ever came to Pleasant Valley."

"She certainly couldn't drive me away," Grunty Pig muttered. "Besides, didn't you say she was away herself?"

"Yes!" said Moses Mouse. "And I hope she has gone for good."

"Then," said Grunty Pig, "it ought to be quite safe for me to go to the farmhouse. And as soon as I have a chance to get out of this pen I'll do as you suggest."

"Good!" cried Moses Mouse. And he said that he hoped to have many a chat with Grunty, at the farmhouse.

"Umph!" said Grunty Pig. And Mr. Mouse was much pleased, for he took that to mean "Yes!"

XXIV

A PIG IN THE PARLOR

Grunty Pig had got out of his pen and out of the piggery, too. Ever since his talk with Moses Mouse the day before he had been hoping for a chance to escape. And shuffling across the farmyard somewhat heavily--for he was growing longer and taller and fatter every day--Grunty went straight to the woodshed door. It was open. And he walked through it. Then he clattered over the woodshed floor and peered into the kitchen. There was no one there.

For a few moments Grunty stood sniffing in the doorway. A delicious odor greeted him. He wasn't sure what it was. A pan sat near the edge of the table. And Grunty Pig had no trouble upsetting it with his nose.

Doughnuts rolled in every direction--crisp, brown, freshly fried doughnuts. And Grunty Pig showed that he was thoughtful. He went to the trouble of picking them all up off the floor. But he forgot to drop them back into the pan. Instead, he put every one of them into his own mouth.