Not long after this there was a family of thirteen little pigs on the farm. Twelve of the baby pigs were perfectly white, but one little fellow's skin was black as pitch, and his eyes were red as live coals. Almost as soon as he was born he began to show a savage disposition.
The black fellow soon awakened the curiosity of the neighborhood. No pig like him anywhere to be seen. He grew twice as fast as his little brothers, and daily became more savage. When eighteen months old, he weighed fifteen hundred pounds, and had to be kept in a separate pen and watched day and night for fear he would devour his brothers. People came from far and near to see the monster, and went away thanking their stars that he was not allowed to run at large.
One beautiful autumn day the nobleman gave a thanksgiving dinner for his freemen. The best of foods and drinks were served, and the men ate till they could eat no more, and drank till they could scarcely see. They became very noisy and filled the banqueting hall with such profane language that the Greek maids who had been engaged to dance for their amusement fled in fear.
No sooner had they gone than the black pig appeared in the hall. Some of the men rose to drive him back to his pen, but he would not go. He stood before their blurred eyes, shaking his ugly head and gnashing his terrible teeth.
Some of the stupid fellows thought that the pig must be mad; others said he must be a devil clothed in pig's flesh. They all kept a safe distance from him, hiding wherever they could, till at last Egkartes cautiously approached the monster, intending to lead him to his pen, as the youth had done on like occasions. But when as usual, he took the pig by the ear, the beast turned upon him with a thundering roar, seized his arm, and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
Then the half-drunken father, staggering to his son's help, beat the animal over the head with a great stick; but this only increased the pig's fury, and dropping the boy, he ran amuck against the company, biting every man in the room.
One man, trying to escape by jumping over the pig, landed at full length on the creature's back, where he clung for dear life. The black pig did his best to shake the man off, but he held on with might and main. Round and round spun the pig squealing and grunting furiously. The man kept his hold so firmly, that at length some of his companions crept from their hiding places and cheered the plucky rider.
Finally the pig sprang through the door and ran for the open country, the man clinging to him like a "broncho-buster," while his companions—as many as were not too stupified by excess at table—gave chase, frantically shouting. Down the lane the strange steed charged, over the fence he leaped, madly shaking himself at every jump, and continued his career till he came to a narrow footbridge over a deep river, and tried to cross it. As he reached the middle of the bridge, he slipped and rolled into the stream below, carrying his rider with him.