Escape
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
nothing 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 horses and the sheep.
The bam 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 bam had stalls on the
main floor for the work horses, 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 sons of things that you find in barns: ladders,
grindstones, pitch forks, monkey wrenches, scythes,
lawn mowers, snow shovels, ax handles, milk pails,
water buckets, 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. Horner 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 keep a young
pig. Pigs need warmth, and it was warm and com-
fonable down there in the barn cellar on the south
si4e.
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 afternoons,
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 her to get 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 Wilbur happy to know that she was sitting
there, right outside his pen. But he never had any fun-
no walks, no rides, no swims.
One afternoon in June, when Wilbur was almost
two months old, he wandered out into his small 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 manure 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
agatn.
"Vhen 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 friend,"
said a voice.
Wilbur looked through the fence and saw the goose
standing there.
"You don't have to stay in that dirty-little dirty-
little dirty-little yard," said the goose, who talked
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 mysdf," 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
down, 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 I like it."
Actually, Wilbur felt queer to be outside 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."
"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 bam 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. Zucker-
man, "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 hol-
lering; 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 though 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 tum!"
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 hulla-
baloo. 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 her anns and comfort him. When he
looked up and saw Mr. Zuckerman standing quite close
to him, holding a pail of wann slops, he felt relieved.
He lifted his nose and sniffed. The smell was delicious
-wann milk, potato skins, wheat middlings, Kellogg's
Com Flakes, and a popover left from the Zuckennans'
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-iviry. 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.