"Oh, it's Finnegan! Oh, the little villain! If I had only left him at home!" Poor Marian strove to call him back. But against the uproar of the crowd her voice could not make a sound. "Oh, the naughty little sinner, he will catch that pig himself and spoil the race for everybody. Look, Sally Lou! He has almost caught up with the pig this minute!"
Even as she spoke, Finnegan, running at top speed, shot ahead of the fleeing pig. Then, with a frenzied bark, he whirled and charged straight at the prize.
This front attack was too much for any pig's self-control. Not content with galloping murderously at his heels, his pursuers had set this ferocious brute to destroy him! With a squeal of mortal panic the little fellow turned right-about and bolted. Shrieking, he dashed back, straight into the crowd of runners.
"Oh—oh! He's right under the commodore's hand! Oh, if he wasn't so slippery—Look, quick, Marian!"
"Well, will you look at that now!" Mrs. McCloskey's mild voice rose in a laugh of triumph. "Sure, I never yet knew the commodore to fail if once he'd set his head to do a thing!"
"If only he can keep fast hold of the pig till he reaches the judges' stand," whispered Sally Lou. All three gazed in pale suspense at the commodore, now striding gayly up the race-track, the pig squirming and squealing wildly in his arms.
"I'm mistrustin' that myself," said Mrs. McCloskey, nervously, "for the little animal is not so convenient to hold, bein' he's so glassy smooth. But trust the commodore. He'll not fail, now."
The commodore did not fail. Calm and majestic, as if he strode a quarter-deck, he paced down the track and halted before the judges' stand, his shrieking prize held high. As the umpire bent forward to give him the champion's blue ribbon, the crowd broke loose. No Olympic victor ever received his laurel in the face of a more enthusiastic tumult.
"I give up," puffed Mr. Jennings, fanning himself with his hat. "You caught that pig fair an' square, commodore. The honors are yours."
"Tut, tut, 'twas no great matter," declared the commodore modestly, as the girls heaped him with praises. "'Twas just a moment's divarsion. And it took no skill whatever, though I will own that to carry the little felly back to the judges' stand demanded some effort on me part. You will observe that a pig furnishes but few handholds, particularly when he's that slippery and excited-like. Yes, Mary, perhaps we'd best be startin' home, as it's so near sundown."