"Ah! But my tail has a beautiful curl!" said Grunty Pig.

"You can't wag it, to let folks know you're friendly, as I can," said Spot.

"Ah! But my tail is _so_ handsome!" Grunty Pig exclaimed.

XIX

DOG SPOT'S PLAN

When Grunty Pig insisted that his own tightly curled tail was the most beautiful one in the neighborhood, old dog Spot yawned.

"If that's the case," he remarked, "I should think you'd want your tail where you could see it more easily. Don't you find it a nuisance to have to turn your head around every time you want to look at your tail?"

Grunty Pig admitted that his tail wasn't in the most convenient place in the world.

"If Farmer Green should cut off your tail and nail it up on the outside of the barn," old Spot suggested, "you could look at it easily enough.

And it would give others a better chance to see it, too. Even the people that drive along the road could enjoy it. Everybody spoke about the tall corn that we nailed to the barn last fall. And I'm sure that folks would admire your tail."

When Spot spoke of Farmer Green's cutting off his tail, Grunty Pig winced. But as the old dog talked on and on Grunty forgot the painful part of the plan.

"There's no doubt," he agreed, "that my tail would be a fine sight, fastened up on the barn where everybody could gaze at it. But don't you think, Mr. Spot, that I'd look very queer without any tail?"

"N--no!" Spot told him. "N--no! I've seen plenty of pigs without tails.

They didn't look queer at all. Really, they looked better without tails than they would have looked with them."

Grunty Pig had listened carefully to what Spot said. Yet somehow he couldn't quite make up his mind to part with his beautiful tail, even if it would delight many more people when nailed to the outside of the barn.

"I'd like to see one of those pigs," he said to Spot. "I'd like to see how they look."

"That's easily arranged," old Spot told him. "I can show you a dozen of them--all as pink and white and happy as they can be. And not a single one of them with a tail!"

"I'd certainly like to see them," Grunty Pig murmured.

"They're a pretty sight," Spot a.s.sured him. "Don't you think you'd feel uncomfortable if you appeared before them with a tail? Don't you want to have yours cut off _before_ you go to see these tailless little fellows? It seems to me you'd be more at your ease. It would certainly be _polite_ of you."

Grunty Pig, however, cared little for politeness. He said that n.o.body was polite to him. His brothers--and even his sisters--were always knocking him down and trampling on him.

"Very well!" said Spot. "Squirm through that fence and follow me."

It was a tight squeeze. When Grunty Pig was half through the hole in the fence he found himself stuck fast. He could move neither forward nor back. "Oh, dear!" he wailed. "What shall I do?"

"Keep perfectly still!" old dog Spot cautioned him--as if Grunty Pig could do anything else. "I'll jump the fence and help you."

Now, Grunty Pig thought that old Spot intended to give him a push.

Instead, Spot nipped him smartly.

It was exactly the sort of help that Grunty needed. He gave a frantic plunge forward and fell, sprawling, on the ground outside the yard, where Spot soon joined him.

"It takes old Spot to hurry 'em along," said the old dog gleefully.

Grunty Pig said "Umph! Umph!"

Old dog Spot was not quite sure what he meant.

XX

A NEW KIND OF PIG

"Stop grunting and squealing and follow me!" old dog Spot growled. And Grunty Pig, who had just tumbled through a hole in the fence, scrambled to his feet and trotted after his guide.

Old Spot had promised to show Grunty a dozen pink and white pigs, all without tails. He wanted Grunty to see how handsome they looked.

"You'll like them," Spot told Grunty over his shoulder as they jogged across the farmyard. "You'll ask Farmer Green this very day to cut off your tail and nail it up on the barn. I tell you, these pigs look _neat_. There's _style_ about them."

"Umph! Umph!" said Grunty Pig as he shuffled along behind.

"Now, I wonder what he meant by that!" Spot mused. It was sometimes hard to tell whether Grunty's _umphs_ stood for _yes_ or _no_.

Around the corner of the farmhouse, near the woodshed door, old dog Spot came to a halt before a two-storied cage, the front of which was covered with fine-meshed wire netting.

Stopping beside Spot, Grunty Pig peered inside the cage. He saw a number of odd little creatures running about upon the sawdust-strewn floor of the tiny house, one or another of them giving a faint squeak now and then as if ordering the two unasked callers to move on.

Whoever they were, they were a bright-eyed little family. But Grunty Pig thought, as he stared at them, that they had a most peculiar look.

There seemed to be something missing about them. Yet he couldn't tell just what it was.

Together Grunty and Spot stood there, silent, for a time; until at last Grunty said, "Come along! Let's not stay here any longer. I want to see those twelve pigs without tails."

Old dog Spot snorted.

"You _want_ to see them!" he cried. "Well, n.o.body's stopping you.

They're right here in front of you!"

Grunty Pig's mouth fell open--he was so astonished. He knew, now, what made the little, pudgy, white strangers look so queer. There wasn't one of them that had even a hint of a tail!

Then all at once Grunty turned angrily upon old dog Spot.

"These aren't pigs!" he squealed. "You needn't think you can fool me.

They're not pigs at all."

"Oh, yes--they are!" Spot insisted. "You didn't suppose that all the pigs in the world were exactly like your family--did you?"