We drove as far as Gray Corners, where there was a country store, and there I bought a bushel of oats for the horses and a hundred-pound bag of corn for the hogs.

The hogs were so ravenous that it was hard to be sure that each got his proper share; but we did the best we could and somewhat reduced their squealing.
The hastily repaired wagon body had also given us trouble, for it had threatened to shake to pieces as it jolted over the frozen ruts of the road; but we bought a pound of nails, borrowed a hammer and set to work to repair it better, with the hogs still aboard--much to the amusement of a crowd of boys who had collected.

It was almost noon when we left Gray Corners, and it was after three o'clock before we reached Westbrook, five miles out of Portland.

Here whom should we see but the old Squire, who, growing anxious over our failure to appear, had driven out to meet us.

He could not help smiling when he heard Willis's indignant account of what had delayed us.
He thought it likely that we could recover the missing hog, and that evening he inserted a notice of the loss in the _Eastern Argus_.