The children approached it cautiously, and hesitated about entering. While they were halting and considering what to do, they heard a grunt from the middle of the thicket—a grunt as friendly and as familiar as if it came from a fat hog in a pen. Reassured by this, Buster John went into the thicket, followed by Sweetest Susan. They went in cautiously and looked about them very cautiously, but they could see nothing.
“Ooft—gooft!” grunted the White Pig in a contented manner. “Where am I? Can’t you find me?”
They looked about them with all the eyes they had, but failed to find him. Their search became so interesting that Sweetest Susan laughed. There was nothing to laugh at, but she was so thrilled by the excitement of trying to find the White Pig—and he was not a small pig by any means—that she had to express her feelings in some way, and so she laughed.
At that moment Drusilla came to the edge of the thicket. Hearing Sweetest Susan laugh, she grew bold enough to venture in.
“What you-all doin,’ I like ter know?” she asked in a somewhat dubious tone.
“Oh, come and help us, Drusilla!” cried Sweetest Susan, as gleefully as if she were playing hide-the-switch, or kick-the-can. “We are trying to find him. He’s hiding in here, and we can’t find him. Come on!”
Drusilla joined the others, but not with any degree of enthusiasm. “You-all want ter fin’ ’im lots wuss’n I does. I’m mo’ fear’d er fin’in’ ’im dan I is er not fin’in’ ’im.”
THE WHITE PIG TELLS HIS STORY