"Oh! How sour!" grunted Squinty. "I'd like a drink of water to take the taste of that out of my mouth."
Squinty lifted his nose up in the air, and sniffed and snuffed. He wanted to try to smell a spring of water, and he did, just on the edge of the big wood. Over to the spring he ran on his little short legs, and soon he was having a fine drink.
"Now I feel better," Squinty said. "What will happen next?"
Nothing did for some time, and, when it did it was so strange that Squinty never forgot it as long as he lived. I'll tell you all about it.
He walked on through the woods, Squinty did, and, before very long, he found some acorns. He ate as many as he wanted and then, as he always felt sleepy after he had eaten, he thought he would lie down and have a nap.
He found a place, near a big stump, where there was a soft bed of dried leaves, nearly as nice as his straw bed in the pen at home. On this he stretched out, and soon he was fast asleep.
When Squinty awoke it was real dark. He jumped up with a little grunt, and said to himself:
"Well, I did not mean to stay away from my pen so long. I guess I had better go back."
Squinty started to go back the way he had come, but I guess you can imagine what happened. It was so dark he could not find the path. He walked about, stumbling over sticks and stones and stumps, sometimes falling down on soft moss, and again on the hard ground. Finally Squinty thought:
"Well, it is of no use. I can't get back tonight, that is sure. I shall have to stay here. Oh dear! I hope there are no dogs to bite me!"