It was long and thin like a boy's cane, and of a bright green color like grass, and it had queer shiny eyes.

But its tongue was the strangest part of it.

It came and went like lightning.

I was uneasy about it, and began to bark.
"What's the matter, Joe ?" said Mrs.Wood; "the pig won't hurt you." But it wasn't the pig I was afraid of, and I kept on barking.

And all the time that strange live thing kept sticking up its head and putting out its tongue at me, and neither of them noticed it.
"It's getting on toward six," said Mrs.Wood; "we must be going home.
Come, Mr.Maxwell." The young man put the guinea pig in his pocket, picked up his crutches, and we started down the sunny village street.