Lige stopped and leaned on his spade.
"We aren't going to dig a hole like this for us to live in, are we?" he demanded in a tone of horror.
The shout of laughter with which his father and brother received this remark caused him to resume digging hastily. Mr. Peniman hastened to reassure him.
"Don't fear, Lige, we won't do that, but I'll show you a better way, and yet the prairies will have to furnish the material."
Lige was still unconvinced that the plan for the pig-pen was a good one, until when it was finished, a fine round pit of about twelve feet in circumference and three feet deep, the whole family came in a body to see Romeo and Juliet established in their new home.
This was accomplished after a good deal of squealing and struggling on the part of the tenants, but when they were finally established, with a roof across one end covered with a thatch of prairie grass to keep off the sun, they ran about and about in an ecstasy of glee, nosing the walls, rooting in the dirt, and expressing their pleasure with skips and grunts of delight.
"Well," admitted Lige a bit reluctantly, "I'll agree that that's an all-right pig-pen, but I don't see yet how you're ever going to make a house for us to live in out of dirt!"
"Wait for a few days and I'll show you," said his father cheerfully.
It was not even that long before his curiosity was gratified. The very next morning they were roused by their father's voice calling them.
"Come along, my lads," he cried, "we have much to do, and no time to sleep while there is daylight to work in these days! The fall will soon be upon us, and we must have our house ready before the rains come."