"It will take some time to build our house," she said brightly as she hurried about getting her new cooking-place in order, "and we might as well be as comfortable as we can until it is done."
The family, tired enough of living in the cramped space of the wagons, readily agreed to this, and the next day was spent unloading the wagons, unpacking boxes, and making their temporary home as comfortable and convenient as possible.
When the comfort of the family had been looked after Mr. Peniman turned his attention to the animals.
The little pigs had grown and thriven so, even under the hard conditions that had beset the rest of the travelers, that they were now entirely too big for their box, and squealed their protest continually.
They had long ago outgrown the necessity of bottle-feeding and took their sustenance out of a pan like regular porkers.
Joe and Lige found their father, late in the afternoon, standing beside the box looking down at the little squealers with a speculative expression.
"I was thinking," he said as they approached him, "that we must provide better quarters for Romeo and Juliet. They've outgrown their box, and I don't see that we can spare them another. They ought to have more room."
"Couldn't we build them a pen out of logs?" asked Joe.
"Can't spare any of our precious timber for pigs," said Mr. Peniman. Then with a sudden smile breaking over his face, "Now I have it! Come along, boys, get your spades, and I'll soon show you how we can make Romeo and Juliet a fine home."
The boys had learned long since that the humorous little twinkle in the corner of their father's eye always meant fun ahead, so grabbing up their spades they followed him to a spot some distance back of the spot they had marked out for their future home on the river bank.
With a few quick strokes of his boot-heel Mr. Peniman described a circle on the ground. Then, throwing off his coat, he fell to digging.
Somewhat puzzled as to how a pig-pen was to be constructed with shovels, the boys followed his example.
"But I can't see," puffed Lige, "how this is going to make a place for _live_ pigs. If they were dead ones, and we were going to bury them----"
"Oh, I know," he cried. "Why, of course! It's a bully idea! Don't you see that we can _dig_ a pen for them? A mighty good kind of a pen, too, that they can't break down or squeeze through or get out of."