The Tale of Grunty Pig Part 7

"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 fas.h.i.+on.

"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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Grunty Pig Stuck Fast in the Fence.

(_Page 86_)]

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.