THE SQUEAL

When we butcher the pig this morning,” Daddy told Jenny, “You come on out to the garage and we’ll let you have the squeal.”

“Okay,” answered Jenny solemnly. She vaguely wondered what the squeal looked like. A little like the tail, she supposed.

Jenny became so interested in her playing that morning that she forgot all about going out to watch them butcher the pig. When the men came in for the noon meal, they washed the blood off their hands in basins on the brick walk out in back. There was still dried blood on their overalls and shirts.

In the afternoon Jenny ventured outdoors. There was a faint chill in the autumn air. She walked down to the big corn crib. She tried to climb on it a ways, but didn’t get far, as there was nothing to hold to. She pulled out an ear of the hard yellow corn and began shelling the kernels from the cob. Two greedy hens gobbled it down as fast as Jenny could shell it. Before she finished, her fingers were starting to get sore, so she threw the partly shelled ear on the ground and went around to the northwest side of he corn crib.

Jenny suddenly stood still, not daring to move for a minute, for there in a heap beside the corn crib, she saw this horrible thing. She turned around screaming and ran to the house, her feet almost stumbling over in their haste.

“Mother! You have to come and see it,” she called, as she burst open the kitchen door.

“See what, my child?” Mother calmly inquired.

“I can’t tell you . Come on. Hurry!” and she tugged at Mother’s hand so urgently that Mother decided she’d better go right away. It could be important. They walked down to the corn crib, Jenny leading the way, bold now that Mother was along.

Jenny pointed to the thing that lay in a heap beside the corn crib and whispered in hushed awe, “The Squeal!”

“Why, that’s nothing but a pig skin. That’s the skin of the pig they butchered this morning. The chickens, or maybe the dog, dragged it down here. Looks like something sure picked it clean.”

“Will it git me?” Jenny asked apprehensively. It smelled terrible and there were flies all over it.

“No, it can’t hurt you. Look.” Mother picked up a long stick and poked at it. The swarm of flies buzzed up a little ways in the air, but the pig skin continued to lie in a heap.

Jenny felt somewhat reassured. but nevertheless, she didn’t play near the corn crib for several days afterward.