And when it was his turn he waved like a man.
I will try not to call him a white mouse any more.

He was a brick that day, and no mouse.
The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and very hungry, when we saw a cart in the road below.

We waved like mad, and shouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a thing none of us had known before that he could do.
And the cart stopped.

And presently we saw a figure with a white beard among the trees.

It was our Pig-man.
We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in--he thought at first we were kidding--he came up and let us out.
He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one--and we were not particular.