'Not if you know the right way to set about it,' said Tim. 'Instead of holloing and shouting and beating it with a stick, you should just stoop down and catch the eye of the cratur, and sure he will go the way you want.'
The man grinned. 'You're from the Ould Counthry—no need to tell me that, my broth of a boy!'
Tim nodded, with an answering twinkle in his eye.
'If you tell me where Farmer Smale lives, I will drive this pig there,' he said.
The directions were given. Tim soon had the pig before him, and all his troubles were forgotten in an occupation which reminded him of old times.
'Perhaps doing the farmer and the pig a good turn will bring me something good,' he thought.
There was a tremendous grunting in the farmyard when the wanderer rejoined his companions. Farmer Smale came out, followed by his wife, to see what was causing such a commotion.
'Well, you are a smart boy,' the farmer said. 'You must come in and rest and have some tea, for pig-driving is a tiring business.'
'It's not tired I am, sir. I only wish I had a chance to drive pigs every day. You will not be wanting a boy to help on your farm, will you, sir?'
'Why, my lad, you don't look cut out for hard work,' the farmer said, for Tim's stunted growth, and the large head, out of proportion to his small body, made him look less strong than other boys.