The
barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of
manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet
breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell -- as though
noghing bad could happen ever again in the world. It smelled of grain and of
harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope. And
whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barn would smell of fish.
But mostly it smelled of hay, for there was always hay in the great loft up
overhead. And there was always hay being pitched down to the cows and the
hourses and the sheep.
The barn was
pleasantly warm in winter when the animals spent most of their time indoors,
and it was pleasantly cool in summer when the big doors stood wide open to the
breeze. The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work hourses, tie-ups on
the main floor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for the sheep, a pigpen
down below for Wilbur, and it was full of all sorts of things that you find in
barns: ladders, grindsones, pitch forks, monkey wrenches, scythes, lawn mowers,
snow shovels, ax handles, milk pails, water buchers, empty grain sacks, and
rusty rat traps. It was the kind of barn that swallows like to build their
nests in. It was the kind of barn that children like to play in. And the whole
thing was owned by Fern's uncle, Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman.
Wilbur's new home was
in the lower part of the barn, directly underneath the cows. Mr. Zuckerman knew
that a manure pile is a good place to kkep a young pig. Pigs need warmth, and
it was warm and comfortable down there in the barn cellar on the south side.
Fern came almost
every day to visit him. She found an old milking stool that had been discarded,
and she placed the stool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur's pen. Here she sat
quietly during the long afternoos, thinking and listening and watching Wilbur.
The sheep soon got to know her and trust her. So did the geese, who lived with
the sheep. All the animals trusted her, she was so quiet and friendly. Mr.
Zuckerman did not allow her to take Wilbur out, and he did not allow to git
into the pigpen. But he told Fern that she could sit on the stool and watch
Wilbur as long as she wanted to. It made her happy just to be near the pig, and
it made her happy just to be near the pig, and it made Wilbur happy to know
that she was sitting there, right outside his pen. But he never had any fun--no
walks, no redes, no swims.
One afternoon in
June, when Wilbur was almost two months old, he wandered out into his smalll
yard outside the barn. Fern had not arrived for her usual visit. Wilbur stood
in the sun feeling lonely and bored.
"There's never
anything to do around here," he thought. He walked slowly to his food
trough and sniffed to see if anything had been overlooked at lunch. He found a
small strip of potato skin and ate it. His back itched, so he leaned against
the fence and rubbed against the boards. When he tired of this, he walked
indoors, climbed to the top of the manured pile , and sat down. He didn't feel
like going to sleep, he didn't feel like digging, he was tired of standing
still, tired of lying down. "I'm less than two months old and I'm tired of
living," he said. He walked out to the yard again.
"When I'm out
here," he said, "there's no place to go but in. When I'm indoors,
there's no place to go but out in the yard.""That's where you're wrong,
my friend, my freiend," said a voice.
Wilbur looked through
the fence and saw the goose standing there.
"You don't have
to stay in that dirty-llittle dirty-little dirty-little yard," said the
goose, who talded rather fast. "One of the boards is loose. Push on it,
push-push-push on it, and come on out!""What?" said Wilbur.
"Say it slower!""At-at-at, at the risk of repeating
myself," said the goose, "I suggest that you come on out. It's
wonderful out here.""Did you say a board was loose?""That I
did, that I did," said the goose.
Wilbur walked up to
the fence and saw that the goose was right--one board was loose. He put his
head sown, shut his eyes, and pushed. The board gave way. In a minute he had
squeezed through the fence and was standing in the long grass outside his yard.
The goose chuckled.
"How does it
feel to be free?" she asked.
"I like it
," said Wilbur. "That is, I guess Ilike it." Actually, Wilbur
felt queer to be out side his fence, with nothing between him and the big
world.
"Where do you
think I'd better go?""Anywhere you like, anywhere you like,"
said the goose. "Go down through the orchard, root up the sod! Go down
through the garden, dig up the radishes! Root up everything! Eat grass! Look
for corn! Look for oats! Run all over! Skip and dance, jump and prance! Go down
through the orchard and stroll in the woods! The world is a wonderful place
when you're young."III. Escape(2)"I can see that," replied
Wilbur. He gave a jump in the air, twirled, ran a few steps, stopped, looked
all around, sniffed the smells of afternoon, and then set off walking down
through the orchard. Pausing in the shade of an apple tree, he put his strong
snout into the ground and began pushing, digging, and rooting. He felt very
happy. He had plowed up quite a piece of ground before anyone noticed him. Mrs.
Zuckerman was the first to see him. She saw him from the kitchen window, and
she immediately shouted for the men.
"Ho-mer!"
she cried. "Pig's out! Lurvy! Pig's out! Homer! Lurvy! Pig's out. He's down
there under that apple tree.""Now the trouble starts," thought
Wilbur." Now I'll catch it."The goose heard the racket and she, too,
started hollering. "Run-run-run downhill, make for the woods, the
woods!" she shouted to Wilbur. "They'll never-never-never catch you
in the woods."The cocker spaniel heard the commotion and he ran out from
the barn to join the chase. Mr. Zuckerman heard, and he came out of the machine
shed where he was mending a tool. Lurvy, the hired man, heard the noise and
came up from the asparagus patch where he was pulling weeds. Everybody walked
toward Wilbur and Wilbur didn't know what to do. The woods seemed a long way
off, and anyway, he had never been down there in the woods and wasn't sure he
would like it.
"Get around
behind him, Lurvy," said Mr. Zuckerman, "and drive him toward the
barn! And take it easy-don't rush him! I'll go and get a bucket of
slops."The news of Wilbur's escape spread rapidly among the animals on the
place. Whenever any creature broke loose on Zuckerman's farm, the event was of
great interest to the others. The goose shouted to the nearest cow that Wilbur
was free, and soon all the cows knew. Then one of the cows told one of the
sheep, and soon all the sheep knew. The lambs learned about it from their mothers.
The horses, in their stalls in the barn, pricked up their ears when they heard
the goose hollering; and soon the horses had caught on to what was happening.
"Wilbur's out," they said. Every animal stirred and lifted its head
and became excited to know that one of his friends had got free and was no
longer penned up or tied fast.
Wilbur didn't know
what to do or which way to run. It seemed as through everybody was after
him." If this is what it's like to be free," he thought," I
believe I'd rather be penned up in my own yard."The cocker spaniel was
sneaking up on him from one side. Lurvy the hired man was sneaking up on him
from the other side. Mrs. Zuckerman stood ready to head him off if he started
for the garden, and now Mr. Zuckerman was coming down toward him carrying a
pail." This is really awful," thought Wilbur. "Why doesn't Fern
come?" He began to cry.
The goose took
command and began to give orders.
"Don't just
stand there, Wilbur! Dodge about, dodge about!" cried the goose."
Skip around, run toward me, slip in and out, in and out, in and out! Make for
the woods! Twist and turn!"The cocker spaniel sprang for Wilbur's hind
leg. Wilbur jumped and ran. Lurvy reached out and grabbed. Mrs. Zuckerman
screamed at Lurvy. The goose cheered for Wilbur. Wilbur dodged between Lurvy's
legs. Lurvy missed Wilbur and grabbed the spaniel instead. "Nicely done,
nicely done!" cried the goose." Try it again, try it
again!""Run downhill!" suggested the cows.
"Run toward
me!" yelled the gander.
"Run
uphill!" cried the sheep.
"Turn and
twist!" honked the goose.
"Jump and
dance!" said the rooster.
"Look out for
Lurvy!" called the cows.
"Look out for
Zuckerman!" yelled the gander.
"Watch out for
the dog!" cried the sheep.
"Listen to me,
listen to me!" screamed the goose.
Poor Wilbur was dazed
and frightened by this hullabaloo. He didn't like being the center of all this
fuss. He tried to follow the instructions his friends were giving him, but he
couldn't run downhill and uphill at the same time, and he couldn't turn and
twist when he was jumping and dancing, and he was crying so hard he could
barely see anything that was happening. After all, Wilbur was a very young
pig-not much more than a baby, really. He wished Fern were there to take him in
his arms and comfort him. When he looked up and saw Mr. Zuckerman standing quite
close to him, holding a pail of warm slops, he felt relieved. He lifted his
nose and sniffed. The smell was delicious-warm milk, potato skins, wheat
middlings, Kellogg's Corn Flakes, and a popover left from the Zuckermans'
breakfast.
"Come,
pig!" said Mr. Zuckerman, tapping the pail. "Come pig!"Wilbur
took a step toward the pail.
"No-no-no!"
said the goose. "It's the old pail trick, Wilbur. Don't fall for it, don't
fall for it ! He's trying to lure you back into captivity-ivity. He's appealing
to your stomach."Wilbur didn't care. The food smelled appetizing. He took
another step toward the pail.
"Pig, pig!"
said Mr. Zuckerman in a kind voice, and began walking slowly toward the
barnyard, looking all about him innocently, as if he didn't know that a little
white pig was following along behind him.
"You'll be
sorry-sorry-sorry," called the goose.
Wilbur didn't care.
He kept walking toward the pail of slops.
"You'll miss
your freedom," honked the goose. "An hour of freedom is worth a
barrel of slops."Wilbur didn't care.
When Mr. Zuckerman
reached the pigpen, he climbed over the fence and poured the slops into the
trough. Then he pulled the loose board away from the fence, so that there was a
wide hole for Wilbur to walk through.
"Reconsider,
reconsider!" cried the goose.
Wilbur paid no
attention. He stepped through the fence into his yard. He walked to the trough
and took a long drink of slops, sucking in the milk hungrily and chewing the
popover. It was good to be home again.
While Wilbur ate,
Lurvy fetched a hammer and some 8-penny nails and nailed the board in place.
Then he and Mr. Zuckerman leaned lazily on the fence and Mr. Zuckerman
scratched Wilbur's back with a stick.
"He's quite a
pig," said Lurvy.
"Yes, he'll make
a good pig," said Mr. Zuckerman.
Wilbur heard the
words of praise. He felt the warm milk inside his stomach. He felt the pleasant
rubbing of the stick along his itchy back. He felt peaceful and happy and
sleepy. This had been a tiring afternoon. It was still only about four o'clock
but Wilbur was ready for bed.
"I'm really too
young to go out into the world alone," he thought as he lay down.