Clever Duck Read Free

an almighty heave. Up came the gate, right off its hinges at one end, while at the other end, the bolt bent and the padlock snapped. Then down crashed the whole thing and away down the road went the sows, marching behind their master.

    Before long, there were grumblings of discontent in the ranks.
    â€œI’m tired” and “My feet hurt” and “I’m starving hungry” and “I’ve had about enough of this,” the sows complained, and finally the fattest
of them, Mrs. Roly-Poly, simply lay down in the road. Firingclose General Lord Nicholas of Winningshot heard the patter of hoofs cease behind him and turned to see that all the sows had stopped.

    â€œWhat is this?” he grunted. “Is this mutiny?”
    â€œDon’t know what the place is called, General,” said Mrs. Chubby, “but we’re not going any farther, not till we’ve had a rest and a bite to eat. My trotters are worn out.”
    This brought from the General a long lecture, very military in tone, on duty and discipline, and for a while the sows lay in the road, not listening to a word but simply resting and catching their breath. But when the boar paused to catch his, Mrs. Tubby said, “Don’t forget, General, that an army marches on its stomach.”

    The General glowered at her. Then it occurred to him that his own stomach was feeling remarkably empty.
    â€œMrs. Tubby,” he said, “you took the words right out of my mouth. I was merely waiting until we found a suitable source of food,” and, after a short lecture on the importance of a balanced diet, he set off again, the sows reluctantly following.

    Not half a mile on, they came upon an open gateway and, beyond it, a fine crop of sugar beets.
    Eagerly the hungry pigs fell upon this bonanza, tearing and swallowing the green leafy tops and ripping great chunks out of the sweet roots in the ground beneath, eating and eating until at last they could hold no more, and even the General was speechless.

    They lay in the ruined crop and snored, and none of them saw a brown-and-white duck flying over the sugar-beet field.
    â€œLooks like they’ve struck it lucky,” Damaris told Rory when she arrived back at the farm.

    â€œTook me a bit of time, but when I did find them, they’d gorged themselves in a field of roots and were all lying there, blown out like balloons.”
    â€œGood,” said Rory. “The happier they are, the less they’ll want to come back here. We don’t want things to go wrong for them so that they start to wish they were safely back in their old paddock.”
    But it was not long before things started to go very wrong indeed for the General and his wives.
    At first it looked as though he had led them to the promised land, so well did they feed. For a day and a half they stuffed themselves with sugar beets and sugar-beet tops. There was even a pond in the corner of the field, where they could drink and wallow. But then they began to pay the price.
    â€œI don’t know why, dear,” said Mrs. Portly to
Mrs. Stout, “but my guts feel funny.”

    â€œMine too,” said Mrs. Stout, and the other sows grunted agreement.
    Mrs. O’Bese did not mince her words.
    â€œI’ve got the trots,” she said, and before long they all had, the General included.
    â€œIn my opinion,” he said uncomfortably, “this unfortunate condition has been caused by an imprudent consumption of the fresh green tops of the sugar beets, acting as a purgative.”
    â€œTops or bottoms,” said Mrs. O’Bese, “I know which end of me is worse off. Come on, General, let’s be getting out of here.”
    So they did, marching off once more down the road and leaving upon its surface plentiful evidence of their troubles.

    But worse was to come.
    That afternoon the pigs reached the outskirts of a village. So far their journey had been through a countryside of few