Finally the farmer came to the end of the street where the piper lived
in his little hut, and there he saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing
on a whistle made from a pig's tail.
"Where did you get that tail?" asked the farmer.
"I found it," said naughty Tom, beginning to be frightened.
"Let me see it," demanded the farmer; and when he had looked at it
carefully he cried out,
"This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know very well the curl at
the end of it! Tell me, you rascal, where is the pig?"
Then Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his wickedness was discovered.
"The pig is eat, your honor," he answered.
The farmer said never a word, but his face grew black with anger, and,
unbuckling the strap that was about his waist, he waved it around his
head, and whack! came the strap over Tom's back.
"Ow, ow!" cried the boy, and started to run down the street.
Whack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulder, for the farmer
followed at his heels half-way down the street, nor did he spare the
strap until he had give Tom a good beating. And Tom was so scared that
he never stopped running until he came to the end of the village, and
he bawled lustily the whole way and cried out at every step as if the
farmer was still a his back.
It was dark before he came back to his home, and his father was still
asleep; so Tom crept into the hut and went to bed.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142