“I have reached the highest pig!” announced the triumphant Lack just before slipping and becoming lodged at a depth of between four and seven piggometers.
He was unaware of how deep a “piggometer” was at the time because it has never been used as a unit of measurement before the previous sentence. It is probably about the height of one pig, and therefore, not very exact.
This sequence of climbing, rejoicing, and falling again repeated nine times before Lack realized that he could keep his position on the highest pig more easily when he didn’t rejoice at all. It was either distracting him or alerting the animals that it was time to knock him over again, so he stopped doing it.
Now that he was able to keep his ground, he stopped and looked around him. The hoggish field extended around him in all directions for as far as the eye could see, but that was not all he saw.
A small, but sturdy-looking tower made of something other than pig (maybe pig iron) rose at least four, but less than seven piggometers into the clear gray sky. This tower had two windows distributed among the five floors and from the highest, looked down another familiar face.
- Steepest Stairs and Wacky Measurements (rootsoftheequation.wordpress.com)
- Notes on a Galvanometer (museumoftheuniversityofstandrews.wordpress.com)