t was a mountain lynx that had sprung upon Billy from the rocks above. This lynx often came down to the highest of the goat farms, and had many times annoyed fat Hans Zug and Farmer Klausen by stealing nice, fat young kids for his supper. This time, however, he had met his match, for Billy's mother no sooner saw the animal light upon her offspring than she scrambled to her feet, and, with a short, quick jump, plunged her sharp horns into his side. The lynx screamed, and loosing his grip on Billy, turned to fight with the mother goat. The moment his weight was lifted, Billy, quick as a flash, ripped at the underside of the beast with his sharp horns. That made the animal snarl and loosen his hold upon Billy's mother, and between them they soon, in this way, gave the lynx more than he had bargained for, so that presently he fled howling up the steep rocks with the two goats chasing him as far as they thought it safe. Then they came back to their grassy spot, and bathed their hurt places in the cool, running water.
"Now, Billy, you see what the world is like," said his mother. "Don't you wish that we were safely back in Farmer Klausen's pasture?"
Billy dipped his scratched hind leg in the water and held it there while he shook his head.
"No," he said, "this is better. Only I'm glad that I didn't get a chance to run away until I was so big and strong."
His mother sighed, but looked at him proudly.
"You are a brave young goat," she said, "and it would be a shame to keep you shut up in a pen."
In the morning they were a little stiff from their hurts, but Billy was still eager to travel and see the world, so they went on into the mountains. About noon they followed a little ravine down to a plateau where there was a whole herd of chamois. These graceful animals are about the size of a goat, but they are not so heavily built and are much swifter. At first the chamois did not want to let the goats join them, but old Fleetfoot, the leader of the herd, said that they might stay if they were not quarrelsome, but that they would have to look out for themselves if hunters came that way.
This little plateau was a beautiful place, all carpeted with grass and backed up by towering rocks. At one end was a cliff looking out over a valley, at the further end of which was a little village. Billy, in his eagerness to see the world, ran at once to the edge of the cliff.
"You reckless Billy!" cried his mother, running after him. "Don't go so close to that cliff or you will surely fall over and break your neck!"
"I'm not afraid," boasted Billy, and actually stood on his hind legs at the very edge.
Stood on his hind legs at the very edge.
Just then a few loose stones came rolling down the ravine, and like a flash the entire herd of chamois were gone, leaping across a broad chasm to a little ledge upon the other side, where there was a second path that led among the rocks.
"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Billy's mother. "Here come two hunters with guns, and we can't jump where they did. Why, it's twelve feet across there!" She was frightened half to death but not for herself, for she threw herself squarely between Billy and the hunters.
The hunters were ignorant fellows, and as soon as they caught sight of the two goats they thought that these also were chamois, and one of them, lifting his gun, shot at them, grazing the head of the mother goat. She toppled over against Billy, and that knocked him over the cliff. If it had not been for a small tree which grew out of the cliff about half way down, Billy would have been dashed to death, but the tree broke his fall and so he only lay in the valley stunned, while the hunters picked up his mother and in great glee carried her away, thinking they had shot a chamois.
When they got back to their guide he told them their mistake, and saw, too, that the goat was only stunned; so they gave it to him and he sold it next day to a man who was buying some extra goats for Hans Zug, to stock a goat farm in America.
In the meantime poor Billy lay almost dead at the base of the cliff, where a man found him about an hour later.
"You poor goat!" said the man, looking up at the cliff. "Did you fall down from that dizzy height?" and he put his hand on Billy's sleek coat. "At least you are not dead," he went on, feeling Billy's heart beat. "I'll get you some water."
He took off his little round hat and ran back to where a tiny waterfall came splashing and tumbling down the cliff, and, filling his hat full of water, brought it and emptied it on the goat's head. The cool shower revived Billy so that he raised his head a little, and by the time the man got back with the second hatful of water he was able to drink a little. This revived him still more, and presently he scrambled weakly to his feet. He stumbled and swayed and nearly fell down, but by spreading his feet out he managed to stand up, and by-and-by he took a few tottering steps. With each step he grew stronger, and after another good drink he was able to follow this kind man across the valley to the little village.
Billy was glad enough to lie down and take a nap as soon as he got to the man's house, and he did not wake up until late at night. After his good sleep he felt as strong as ever and thought he would get something to eat, then see if he could not find his mother. He found that he was tied to a fence not far from a little whitewashed building, under which ran a stream of water, but it did not take long for him to jerk himself loose. Going toward the little white building, he smelled something that reminded him of milk. He tried to get in at the door. It was fastened with a wooden button but Billy did not care for that. He went back a little piece to get a run, and bumped head first into the door, which flew open at once.
"Milk!" said Billy, sniffing around in delight. "Nice sweet milk! I'm sure that kind man would want me to have some."
There was a little board walk down the center of this spring-house, and on each side of this were a number of crocks setting in the water, each one of them covered with a plate and containing milk. A stone was laid on top of each plate to weight the crock down in the water, and in trying to nose off one of these plates Billy reached over too far and fell. He landed right among the crocks, which, of course, bumped into each other, breaking and overturning and spilling the milk, and making a great clatter. At the noise, two dogs came running down and dashed into the spring-house, where, seeing something floundering around in the water, they promptly dived in after it and Billy found himself very busy. The noise the dogs made aroused the man and his wife, and they, too, came down; the noise they made aroused the neighbors on both sides, who came running over to see what was the matter; a young man, who was coming home late from calling on a girl, passed by that way and saw the people from both sides running to this house and thought there must be a fire, so he ran to the town hall, where the rope of the fire bell hung outside, and began ringing it as loud as he could, which aroused everybody in the village. Hearing the commotion many got out of bed and came out on the streets to learn where the fire was.
All this time Billy, the cause of the hubbub, was battling with the dogs among the milk crocks in the spring-house, and using his horns right and left as hard as he could, until finally he was able to jump out between them and on to the board walk. Out of the door he dashed, upsetting the man and his wife, butting into the neighbors and, all dripping with white milk, ran like the ghost of a goat through the village street, making women and girls scream, scattering people right and left and being chased by yelping dogs and halloing men and boys.
Billy easily outran his pursuers, but he never stopped until he was far out in the country, where he crept under a stone bridge to rest from his long run. As soon as he had got his breath, he broke into a near-by field and made a splendid supper from some nice young lettuce heads, then he trotted contentedly back under his bridge and went to sleep. In the morning, bright and early, he went back into the market garden and made a fine breakfast from beet and carrot tops, all sparkling with cool dew. He enjoyed this garden very much and would like to have stayed there until all the nice vegetables were eaten up, but he remembered how Mr. Klausen had whipped him for breaking into his turnip patch one time, and made up his mind that it would not be safe to linger in this part of the country much longer, so he jumped the fence and started again on his travels.
A little dog was trotting down the road, and as soon as he saw Billy he began to bark. To ordinary persons the barking would have sounded merely like a lot of bow-wows, but in the animal language it said:
"Where did you come from, you big white tramp? You go right on away from here or I'll call the police."
Billy wasn't going to take that sort of talk from any dog, big or little, so he gave one "baah!" lowered his head, and started for that dog. The dog suddenly found out that he had very important business back home, and he started up the road as hard as he could go, with Billy close after him. There never was a dog that ran so hard and so earnestly as that one, and all the breath that he could spare from running he used in howling, to let the folks at home know that he was coming. All at once he was very anxious indeed to get home in time for breakfast, and Billy was just as anxious to toss him over a fence before he got there. Up one hill and down another went the two, lickaty-split, first a little white streak bent low in the dust, and then a bigger white streak coming along close behind in a whirling cloud. Pretty soon they came in sight of a big square farmhouse with a wide-spreading roof, and then the little dog, his tongue hanging away out, gave an extra wild howl and ran faster than ever. When they got to the house the dog turned in at the open gate with Billy right at his heels. He tore up the path and around to the kitchen door, up the steps and into the kitchen, pell-mell, where he dived under the table at which the Oberbipp family was having breakfast.
Billy did not know where he was going and did not very much care. All he knew was that he was chasing that dog and meant to catch him, so without looking, he followed, too, up the steps and under the table. Such shrieking and howling never was heard. Herr Oberbipp jumped up so quickly that he upset his chair, and in trying to catch the chair he upset himself, turning a back somersault on the floor and landing in a tub of soapsuds in which the clothes were soaking to be washed. Frau Oberbipp grabbed a loaf of bread in one hand and a sausage in the other, and never left off screaming until she was out of breath. Greta Oberbipp sprang up on her chair and shook her skirts as hard as she could, while she helped her mamma scream. Baby Oberbipp jumped up on the table at first, but the snarls and howls and "baahs" from underneath excited his curiosity so much that he soon jumped down to the floor and looked under the table. Then he began to dance on one foot and yell.
"Hang on, you Flohbeis!" he cried, for the dog, now full of courage because he was under his own table, had grabbed Billy by the nose. Shake his head as hard as he might, Billy could not loosen Flohbeis, or Fleabite, as his name would be called in English, so he reared straight up, and the table began to dance across the room toward the father of the family, while Frau Oberbipp and Greta screamed louder than ever. Herr Oberbipp was just getting out of the tub when the table got over to him, and he made a grab at it when Billy gave an extra strong jump. The table overturned, and all the breakfast things, with a mighty crash of dishes, slid on Herr Oberbipp and knocked him back in the suds again. By this time Billy had unfastened the grip of Fleabite from his nose and had butted that yelping dog into the bottom of the tall clock case; then Billy started for the door, but Herr Oberbipp was already yelling to Caspar not to let him out.
"Grab him, Caspar! Hold him!" yelled the man. "He is a nice young goat. He spoils our breakfast and we make a dinner of him."
When Billy heard that, he was more anxious than ever to get out, but Caspar had slammed the door shut, and Billy, seeing it closed, tried to butt it down. The door was too strong and Billy grew desperate. Caspar ran after him and Billy suddenly turned, running under Caspar's legs and toppling him over; then he made for the window, meaning to go through it, sash and all. But Caspar had already jumped up, and, as the goat went through a pane of glass, Caspar grabbed him by the hind legs and held him, while Billy, fairly caught and pinched in between the window bars, could only struggle with his fore feet.
Herr Oberbipp in the meantime got himself out of the tub of water, took the butter out of his hair and the mush out of his shirt front, untangled himself from the table-cloth, wiped the coffee from his face and ran outside, where he grabbed Billy by the horns and pulled him on through the window. Herr Oberbipp was a big, strong man, and, holding Billy by the horns, he carried him at arm's length down to the barn, letting him kick and struggle all he wanted to, and there he tied the goat in a stall with a good stout wire, after which he went back to the house and washed himself. Frau Oberbipp and Greta were still screaming.
The glass had given Billy two or three little cuts, but they did not amount to much and he had already licked them clean when Caspar came out with some water and a plate of cold potatoes which Billy was very glad to get. While the goat was eating, Caspar examined the cut places, and, running into the house, brought out something which he put on the cuts. It smarted at first, and Billy tried to butt Caspar for putting it on, but by-and-by he could feel that the smarts were being soothed and that the cuts were healing by reason of the stuff that the boy had put on, so he began to see that Caspar was not such a bad sort after all. He had something to worry about, however, when, after breakfast, the farmer came out and looked the goat over.
"Roast kid is a very fine dish," said the farmer. "I don't know to whom this goat belongs, but whosever it is he owes us a meal, so we're going to roast him."