"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.