I ran for my rifle, and I
took some quick shots at him as he flew up. Tried to hit him, too, but I
failed. And the old rascal hung on to my pig. I watched him carry it to
that sharp crag way up there on the rim."
"Poor little piggy!" exclaimed Carley. "To think of our American emblem--our
stately bird of noble warlike mien--our symbol of lonely grandeur and
freedom of the heights--think of him being a robber of pigpens!--Glenn, I
begin to appreciate the many-sidedness of things. Even my hide-bound
narrowness is susceptible to change. It's never too late to learn. This
should apply to the Society for the Preservation of the American Eagle."
Glenn led her along the base of the wall to three other pens, in each of
which was a fat old sow with a litter. And at the last enclosure, that
owing to dry soil was not so dirty, Glenn picked up a little pig and held
it squealing out to Carley as she leaned over the fence. It was fairly
white and clean, a little pink and fuzzy, and certainly cute with its
curled tall.
"Carley Burch, take it in your hands," commanded Glenn.
The feat seemed monstrous and impossible of accomplishment for Carley. Yet
such was her temper at the moment that she would have undertaken anything.
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