Thereupon Steve accommodated him without the slightest hesitation.
"Oh! this is only one of those accidents that will happen sometimes," Max went on to explain. "We know it wasn't a pig that did all the other mischief, for we saw the tracks as plain as day. To-night it just came about that this porker, escaped from some farmer's pen, wandered into camp, and found those nice nuts and other stuff that we piled up on the cover of the pit. So he started to have a midnight lunch all by himself, but the ice was too thin, and down he went."
Even Toby had to laugh by that time, having partly recovered from his grievous disappointment.
"Ain't this the greatest little puzzle we ever tackled?" Bandy-legs was heard to say; "and now that we've got something in our trap, why don't you use that chain and padlock, Toby? Here's a prize pet for you. Think of fastenin' the same up in your back yard, and tellin' folks you had a wild boar in captivity. Regular sideshow freak business you might go into."
The imprisoned hog had started in to squeal once more. Perhaps it imagined the critical time in its life had arrived, when hams and loins were in demand, and that it must maintain the reputation of its species for making a row.
"But great Cæsar's ghost! what ought we do about it?" exclaimed Steve, clapping both hands over his ears; "we can't stand for this all night long."
"We must manage to get him out of that, some way or other," Max declared, positively.
"Toby, you're so fond of everything that walks on four legs, s'pose you climb down into the pit and lift Mr. Hog out?" suggested Bandy-legs.
"What, me, and with only my p-p-pajamas on?" cried Toby; "I'd like to s-s-see myself adoin' that. Seems to me the b-b-best way would be to dig a trench, and then shoo the old p-p-porker out."
"That's what we'll do," Max announced. "It would seem that the monkey is too smart to step into a trap built like this, so we wouldn't have any further need of the pit. Let's get some clothes on first, so we won't take cold, and then everybody dig."