CHAPTER III
BILLY SEES HIS MOTHER AGAIN
obody, not even a goat, likes to think of being roasted for dinner, and so, the minute he heard that, Billy gave an extra hard tug at the wire, but it only cut his neck and choked him and would not break. So he gave it up and "baahed" pitifully while he looked to Caspar for help.
"Indeed you will not roast this goat," said sturdy Caspar. "He's my goat; he chased my dog and I'm going to keep him."
Caspar looked up at his father and his father looked down at Caspar. Billy looked up at both of them. Little Caspar and big Caspar stood exactly alike, both of them with their fists doubled on their hips and both of them with square jaws and firm lips, and it was big Caspar, who, proud to see his boy looking so much like himself, finally gave in. He laughed and said:
"All right, he's your goat, but you have got to take the whippings for all the damage he does."
"Very well," said Caspar, "I'll do it," and his father walked away.
Billy was so pleased with this that he made up his mind to be very nice to the boy, and when Caspar stooped down to take the empty plate away, Billy ran his nose affectionately into young Oberbipp's hand. Right after breakfast Caspar took off the wire from Billy's neck, holding a switch in his hand to whip the goat over the nose in case he tried to butt or run away. But Billy did neither of these things. He followed his new master out in the yard, and there he was backed up between the shafts of a little wagon that had been made for Fleabite. The dog capered and barked and made a run or two at Billy, but the goat only shook his horns at him and Fleabite ran under the barn. The dog was jealous. He did not like the wagon, but, rather than have the goat hitched up to it, he wanted to haul it himself.
He was backed up between the shafts of a little wagon.
"It's no use, Fleabite," said Caspar, "you might as well make friends with him. Anyhow, you're not big enough to haul this wagon, and you always lay down in the harness. You can come along behind, though. I'm going to drive in to Kasedorf and show my goat to cousin Fritz."
At first Billy was afraid that Kasedorf might be the village where he had torn up the spring-house, and he had very good reasons for not wanting to go back there, but when they clattered out of the gate Caspar turned his head in the other direction, and he was very glad of this. He was so pleased with his new master that he went along at a splendid gait, pulling Caspar nicely up one hill after another. Fleabite ran along, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead, and sometimes slipping up at the side and snapping at Billy's nose; but Billy had only to shake his horns in the dog's direction and Fleabite would run about a mile before he would take it into his foolish head to try that trick again.
Pretty soon they went whizzing down a little hill and into a far prettier village than the first one. Just as they turned into the main street, along came a flock of goats driven by two men and half a dozen boys, and who should Billy see in that flock but his own mother! Of course he called loudly to her. She heard him, and though she was in the center of the flock, quickly made her way to the edge, where she kissed him. She had no time to tell him where she was going, nor he to tell her all that had happened to him since he had fallen from the cliff, but it was a joy for each of them to know that the other was still alive and in good health.
Before they could speak further, a sharp whip cracked over them and the lash landed on Billy's nose. He jumped back with the pain and again the whip cracked. This time Billy's mother got the sting of it. Billy looked around, and there, handling the whip, was fat Hans Zug! Billy, mad as a hornet, whirled and was going to make for Hans, when Caspar, who had jumped out of the cart, hit him a sharp crack across the nose with his fist, and it pained Billy so much that the tears came to his eyes and he could not see. Before he could make another start for Hans or run after his mother, Hans had passed by, and Caspar's uncle Heinrich, who had come up in the meantime, had Billy by the horns and was holding him. Billy struggled as hard as he could to get away. He wanted to butt Hans Zug for whipping his mother and himself, and he wanted to go with his mother if he could, so he was a very sulky goat.
Even when Caspar took him to his uncle's house and gave him some nice, tender vegetables and potato parings to eat, he was very sulky as he stood there munching his dinner, so that when Fleabite came up and stole some of his potato parings he butted that poor dog plump into a barbed wire fence. You must not suppose that Fleabite liked potato parings. He would not eat them at home, but he was such a jealous dog that he wanted to eat up Billy's dinner, no matter what it was. After dinner Caspar rubbed Billy's sleek coat until it was all clean and glossy, then he let Fritz have a ride in the cart. Fritz drove proudly up into the main street, and there, standing at the corner, talking to another man, was Hans Zug!
"Yes," Hans was saying in English to the other man, "I go me also by America next week. I got such a brother there what is making more as a tousand dollars a year mit such a goat farm, and I take me my goats over. I got a contract mit another Switzer what owns the land. Yess!"
Billy did not wait for any more, but raised up on his hind feet. Fritz tried his best to hold him back, but he might as well have tried to hold the wind, and Billy, feeling the tug at his reins, gave a jump that toppled Fritz over backwards out of the cart. He gave one more jump and landed with all his might and main against poor, round Hans, and as his enemy went down Billy jumped on him and ran up one side of him and down the other side. Poor Hans got up and clasped both pudgy hands on his stomach.
"A thousand lightnings yet again!" he exclaimed as he looked sorrowfully at his print in the dust. Hans had been butted that time for Billy's mother; now Billy whirled and came back to give Hans one for himself, but this time Hans was too quick for him and dodged behind a tree, letting Billy butt the tree so hard that it stunned him, and before the fiery tempered goat could make up his mind what had happened to him, Caspar came running up and grabbed him by the horns. Billy could have jerked away from Caspar, but he felt that the boy was now the best friend he had, and he did not want to hurt him, so he let Caspar pat him on his sleek sides and climb into the cart behind him.
"You'll have to walk, Fritz," said Caspar loftily. "It takes a good strong boy to manage this goat."
Billy laughed at this, but when Caspar "clicked" for him to "get up," he trotted right along without making any fuss about it.
At the next corner a carriage turned into the main street, and in it, on the seat back of the driver, were a man and a boy, the latter being of about Caspar's age.
"Oh, papa, do look at that beautiful goat!" exclaimed the boy. "Please buy him for me, won't you?"
Mr. Brown shook his head.
"I don't mind you having a goat, Frank," he said, "but I can get you just as good a one when we get back to America. There is no use in carrying a goat clear across the ocean with us when there are so many at home."
"All right," said the boy, obediently, and the carriage drove on.
Poor Billy! His heart sank. He had just heard from Hans that his mother was going to America, and he did hope that this fine looking man would buy him and take him there, too, so that he would have more chance to find his mother; but now his chance was gone. Was it though? He was not a goat to give up easily, and he made up his mind to try once more.
Billy stopped dead still to think it over. He simply could not bear to let this man get away without another trial, so suddenly he whirled, nearly upsetting the cart, and ran after the strangers. He soon caught up with them, and then, slowing down, he trotted along at the side of the carriage, showing off his beauty as much as he could.
"Oh, papa, there is that beautiful goat again," said the boy. "How I do wish I could have him! Of course you can buy me one in America, as you have promised to do, but they say that there are no goats in the world so fine as the Swiss goats, and I am sure that I never saw any so pretty as this one."
The man smiled indulgently at his son and stopped the carriage.
"How much will you take for your goat, my boy?" he asked.
"I don't want to sell him," replied Caspar. "He's my goat and I like him."
Just then Billy tossed his fine head and pranced, daintily lifting his feet.
"See how graceful he is!" exclaimed the boy. "Do buy him, papa!"
"I'll give you ten dollars for him," said the gentleman, pulling out his pocketbook.
Caspar caught his breath. He knew the value of an American dollar, and ten dollars was equal to more than forty German marks. It was a great lot of money, too much for a poor boy to refuse. Caspar drew a long sigh and began to slowly unhitch his goat. The driver of the carriage threw him a strap, and with this he tied Billy to the rear axle of the carriage.
Fleabite, as soon as Billy was safely tied, began to caper with joy and to snap at Billy's heels, but Caspar, when the man had paid him his money, grabbed Fleabite and hitched him to the cart. Then he ran up and patted Billy affectionately on the flanks, and the carriage drove away, with Billy following gladly behind in the dust.
Down the village street the carriage rolled until it came to a quaint little Swiss inn, where it turned through a wide gateway that led into a brick-paved courtyard. Here Billy was unfastened from the carriage by a servant and led back of the inn, where he was tied by the strap to a post, while Mr. Brown and his son Frank went to their mid-day meal. Billy didn't like to be tied; he was not used to it, so he began to chew his strap in two. It was very tough leather but Billy's teeth were very sharp and strong, and he had it about half gnawed through when a little, lean waiter came from the kitchen across the courtyard, carrying, high up over his head, a great big tray piled with dishes of food. The waiter saw Billy gnawing his strap in two and thought that he ought to keep him from it.
"Stop that, you hammer-headed goat!" he cried and gave Billy a kick.
Billy was not going to stand anything like that, so he gave a mighty jump and the strap parted where he had been gnawing upon it. As soon as the lean waiter saw this he started to run, but, with the heavy tray he was carrying, he could not run very fast and he looked most comical with his apron flopping out behind him and his legs going almost straight up and down in his effort to run and to balance the tray at the same time.
When Billy pulled the strap in two, the jerk of it sent him head over heels and by the time he had scrambled to his feet again the waiter was half way to the back door of the inn. The fat cook, who was looking out of the door of the summer kitchen, saw Billy start for the waiter and he started after the goat, but he got there too late, for the goat caught up with the lean waiter in about three leaps and with a loud "baah!" sent him sprawling. The big tray of dishes came down with a crash and a clatter, and meats, vegetables, gravies and relishes, together with broken dishes, were scattered all over the fellow who had kicked Billy, all over the clean scrubbed bricks, spattered up against the walls and into the long rows of geraniums that grew in a wooden trough at the end of the house.
Billy turned and was about to trot back when he saw the fat cook coming just behind him, so he ran right on across the little waiter, through the mess and to the back door. Crossing the winter kitchen he found a big, rosy-cheeked girl standing in his way and made a dive at her. With a scream she jumped and Billy's horns caught in her bright, red-checked apron, which jerked loose. With this streaming along his back, he dashed on into a long hall, and there at the far door whom did he see, just starting into the dining-room, but his old enemy, fat Hans Zug, who had that morning whipped Billy's mother and himself. Billy stood up on his hind feet for a second and shook his head at Hans, and then he started for him. Hans saw him coming.
"Thunder weather!" he cried, and ran on through the door.
He tried to shut the door behind him but he was not in time, for Billy butted against it and threw it open right out of Hans Zug's hand. The long room into which Hans had hurried was the dining-room, and here were seated, around a long table, a number of ladies and gentlemen, among them Mr. and Mrs. Brown and their son Frank, waiting for the dinner that now lay scattered around the courtyard. Everybody looked up, startled, when Hans came bursting through the door closely followed by an angry goat with a red-checked apron streaming from his horns. A great many of the men jumped up and scraped their chairs back, adding to the confusion, and a great many of the ladies screamed. Hans, not knowing what to do, started to run around and around the table with Billy close behind him and the fat cook close after Billy. Billy would easily have caught Hans except that every once in a while Hans would upset a chair in the goat's road and Billy would have to jump over the chair. Sometimes the fat cook would almost catch Billy and finally did succeed in catching the apron. When it came loose in his hand he did not know what to do with it. He started to throw it down, he started to stuff it in his pocket, he started to mop his perspiring face with it, and at last he threw it around his neck and tied the strings in front to get rid of it, then once more he chased after Billy, with the red apron flopping out behind him.
At last he grabbed Billy by the tail just as he was going to jump over the chair, and held on tightly, but Billy's jump had been too strong for him and the fat cook stumbled head over heels. Jumping up the angry cook ran until he again caught the goat, and this time he fell on top of Billy and then both rolled over and over on the floor.
"Ugh!" grunted the fat cook. "Beast animal!"
Billy jumped up in such a hurry that he simply danced on the fat cook's stomach. While Billy was doing this, Hans had stopped for a minute to mop his face and to look wildly around for some way to escape. Around and around, around and around the two raced, poor Hans puffing and blowing and his face getting redder and redder every minute with the chase.
Some men had been calsomining the wooden ceiling of the dining-room, but they had quit during meal time. At one end of the room stood two step-ladders with some long boards resting across them, and on these were a number of buckets of green calsomine. Hans had tried to get out through the doorway, but there were too many people crowded into it and he knew that if he got into that crowd Billy would surely catch him, but now he saw the step-ladders, and running to one of them started to climb up. Billy, however, was through with the cook and had taken after Hans again.
Hans, being so fat, was very slow in climbing a step-ladder, and he had only puffed his way up one step when Billy tried to help him up a little farther with his head and horns after a big running jump. Smash! went the step-ladders. Crash! went the long boards. The buckets of green calsomine flew everywhere. One of them tumbled down right over Hans' head like a hat that was a couple of sizes too large for him, and the green paint ran all over his face, down his neck and over his clothes. Another bucket of it landed in the middle of the dining-room table, splashing and splattering all over the clean cloth and over everybody who sat around it.
Billy, having done more damage than a dozen ordinary goats could hope to do in a lifetime, now made for the door, and the people there scattered very quickly to let him through. Billy himself had received his share of the green calsomine and he was a queer looking sight as he darted out and went flying up the street, with an enemy after him in the shape of the fat cook, who had grabbed down a shot-gun from where it hung over the mantlepiece in the dining-room and had started out after him.
The cook was mad clear through and he was going to kill that goat. Frank, however, was close after the cook, and being able to run much the faster, soon caught up with him.
"Wait!" he panted, tugging at the tail of the cook's white jacket. "Wait! That's my goat!" he cried. "Don't you kill my goat!"
"Away with you, nuisance!" cried the cook, jerking loose from Frank and at the same time pushing him.
Frank fell over backwards, although it did not hurt him, and while he was getting to his feet the cook took careful aim at the flying goat and pulled the trigger.