“I’ll chase it in for you,” said Jim, finishing his lemonade. He got to his feet confidently.
Getting the pig back into the pen was not so simple as Jim had thought. He had considerable experience with pigs but he had never encountered one as wily as this. He chased around the yard after the elusive animal until he was exhausted, without so much as getting the pig near the open gate of the pen. Panting heavily, Jim regarded the shoat, which in turn looked back at him with insolent contempt.
“Feared you might have trouble,” said the old man, who had not stirred from his seat beneath the tree, but was watching with interest. “That’s why I suggested the horse. Maybe you can tire out the little wretch.”
Accepting the suggestion, Jim mounted Ticktock. Around and around the yard they went after the pig. The latter showed no signs of becoming exhausted but finally grew tired of the scene. The animal headed through a gap in an old fence and started across an adjoining pasture which contained a shallow muddy pond. In the open pasture Jim and his horse had a decided advantage. While in the cluttered yard his speed had been retarded by having to duck and turn, now Ticktock could open up. The pig’s short legs worked like mad but the horse was always behind him. A quick turn of the shoat would cause Ticktock to rush past, but Jim would wheel the mustang and in a few strides they would again be practically on top of the pig. The fleeing animal now began to show signs of exhaustion.
In the excitement of the twisting, turning chase, both Jim and the mustang paid little attention to where they were going but simply kept their eyes glued to the pig. After being left behind on another turn, they came rushing up on the animal, to discover suddenly that they were heading straight into the pond. The exhausted and panicky shoat began floundering in the mud. Jim realized the danger at the last moment and tried to rein in Ticktock. The mustang braced all four legs, trying to stop, but his speed was too great. He slid forward into the slippery mud like a sleigh, passing directly over the bogged-down pig. As the mustang’s hind legs cleared the pig, they hit a particularly slippery spot and collapsed beneath him. The pony sat down in the shallow muddy water with a resounding smack. As Ticktock sat, Jim slid down the sloping bare back and in turn landed in the water. However, instead of sitting in the soft mud, he found himself astride the muddy and now terror-stricken pig. The animal let out one piercing squeal after another, wiggling and thrashing in the shallow water. Once the muddy water had dripped from Jim’s eyes so that he could see what was happening, he grabbed the pig’s ears. He firmly retained his seat astride the squealing animal.
Jim knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the struggling pig would wriggle free, since the muddy creature was almost impossible to hold. However, after all the trouble, the boy was not going to let the captive escape if there were any way of preventing it. The burlap bag which he had been using for padding on Ticktock’s back had slipped off with him. Grabbing it, he quickly slipped the bag over the pig’s head. A floundering muddy struggle ensued. Occasionally Jim was on top but just as often it was the pig. Finally when both were about drowned, the task was accomplished. The pig was in the bag. Covered with mud from head to foot, Jim dragged the bag to shore.
The old man, laughing uproariously, was waiting beside the pond.
“You did it, by gum!” he said, when at last he stopped laughing. “Mighty strange method though. Do you always catch pigs that way?”
“I caught him, didn’t I?” said Jim a little belligerently. He didn’t see much humor in the situation.
“Sure did,” said the old man, still grinning. “You’re all covered with mud and glory.”