regal bird you
see with America's stars and stripes had degraded himself to the level
of a coyote. 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.

"Why, shore I will, as Flo says," replied Carley, extending her ungloved
hands. "Come here, piggy. I christen you Pinky." And hiding an almost
insupportable squeamishness from Glenn, she took the pig in her hands
and fondled it.

"By George!" exclaimed Glenn, in huge delight. "I wouldn't have believed
it. Carley, I hope you tell your fastidious and immaculate Morrison that
you held one of my pigs in your beautiful hands."

"Wouldn't it please you more to tell him yourself?" asked Carley.

"Yes, it would," declared Glenn, grimly.

This incident inspired Glenn to a Homeric narration of his hog-raising
experience. In spite of herself the content of his talk interested her.
And as for the effect upon her of his singular enthusiasm, it was deep
and compelling. The little-boned Berkshire razorback hogs grew so large
and fat and heavy that their bones broke under their weight. The Duroc
jerseys were the best breed in that latitude, owing to their larger
and stronger bones, that enabled them to stand up under the greatest
accumulation of fat.

Glenn told of his droves of pigs running wild in the canyon below.