BY the time Billy had made good his escape from the Baby Show, the grounds were crowded with merrymakers. The annual county Fair was an event that no farmer and but very few of the townspeople of Licking County would willingly miss, and the genial sunshine had brought thousands of sightseers out on the first day, for such ideal weather could not be expected to last long at that season of the year.
The country folk, for the most part, provided their own lunches, for noon was the time set apart for social gatherings of old friends and neighbors. Many times five or six families would spread their picnic dinners together and, not having seen each other since the last Fair, the hour would pass pleasantly enough with comparison of rival crops, a discussion of the outlook for another prosperous year, exchange of advice on farming subjects, and kindly gossip about mutual friends.
The townspeople, on the other hand, depended on the numerous lunch booths and tents scattered over the grounds, and now as Billy followed in the wake of the crowds, the odor of coffee coming to him in delightful, fragrant whiffs, proclaimed that noon was fast approaching.
“If lunch-time is here, I must be on the lookout for something to eat. Nothing keeps one in better humor or in finer condition to meet the trials of the day than a good meal. I’ve observed that this truth applies to men and women as well as to goats, too, and the fact likely explains why so many, many people are overly fond of table pleasures. But there, stop your philosophizing, Billy, and take hold of the pressing business in hand—the location of the base of supplies.”
An empty stomach quite often proves as great an incentive to action to people as well as to goats, and this may have accounted for the unusual bustle of the sightseers for, try as he would, Billy had much difficulty in wriggling through the crowds and made slow progress.
“I do believe everyone is heading for the Treat automobile, same as me,” he reflected. “I do want to get there early, for it is my one opportunity to secure a meal honorably. If I was at Cloverleaf Farm, I should be provided with plenty and to spare. That I am at the Fair instead is no reason at all why I should be neglected by the Treats.”
You will see from this that Billy meant to do just right, and likely would have put his resolution into effect had it not been that at this juncture he spied a great mass of red, yellow, blue and green balls floating in the air near by.
They were such gaudy, attractive things that Billy determined to secure at least one, to take home to Dick as a memento of the day. He pushed on, and soon saw that they were all held in leash by one man, who was now in a heated argument with a little fellow not more than six or seven years old at the most.
“I did give you a quarter!” he was explaining, while the street peddler emphatically shook his head and repeated:
“No, no! But one dime, but one dime you did give to me. No, No! I give you your right change!”
“I want my money, I do!” wailed the boy, the angry tears beginning to stream down his chubby cheeks.
“Those Turks are all browbeaters, and here seems to be one of the worst of his tribe,” thought Billy. “Poor toddler, to lose his coveted quarter that way! I know how Dick has treasured up his Fair money, and I for one do not propose to stand idly by and see any boy treated so.”
With this resolution Billy charged with one mighty butt into the wrangling Oriental. But what was this? Instead of a head-on collision, as Billy had anticipated, with a fleeing, howling victim, it was Billy himself who was in mad flight, with a mysterious something tugging away at his horns, gently but nevertheless persistently pulling straight up.
Now that is not the way a man holds a goat. They invariably push down, and Billy first grew impatient and then angry because he could not account for this strange feeling.
He broke into a trot, thinking to rid himself of his tormentor, but that only served to attract a crowd of hilarious boys and girls, who ran screaming and screeching behind him.
On he galloped, by this time at full speed, and quite reckless of consequences. Would he never be able to free himself? Louder and louder came the shouts of his pursuers, larger and larger the following until poor Billy, quite bewildered, decided to turn and “face the music” as Tom would express it.
No sooner did he wheel about than there was a wild scattering, and it was only one boy, more venturesome than the rest, who braved the threatened danger and marched boldly up to our Billy.
LOUDER AND LOUDER CAME
THE SHOUTS OF HIS PURSUERS.
Imagine, if you can, the amazement of the boys and girls to see him pat Billy on the head with impunity, and then capture the huge bunch of toy balloons that had so frightened him with their bobbing about. But their wonder lasted no longer, and they pounced on the rescuer and demanded a share of the plunder. He proved to be a generous lad, and was gladly distributing the gaudy things among the clamoring youngsters when the peddler, with face every bit as red as the scarlet fez which topped it, came upon the scene, panting and puffing.
He threw his arms up in the air, bellowed his wrath, and then descended upon the children to claim his wares. Knowing too well the folly of remaining, they scattered to the four winds, and left the Turk to nurse his anger as best he might.
Billy the brave had not thought it wise to stay for all this, but as soon as he saw victory assured for the children, betook himself off.
“I’m so hungry that my horns rattle, and it is high time that I’m nearing the automobile,” thought he, bending his steps toward the green circle inside the race course, where many vehicles were left for the day.
“Most likely Mr. Treat thought that the safest place for the new machine, so I’ll look thereabouts first,” decided the goat, crossing the track and squirming under the fence. “Anyway, it’s not so crowded over here, and I can lay down and rest. Goodness knows, what with babies and boys to rescue, I’m somewhat overworked and very weary, and need a nap soon after lunch!”
He was carefully picking his way between carry-alls, buggies and the more pretentious surreys to the farther end of the circle when he spied an automobile close at hand.
“Can’t tell whether or not that is ours until I’m near enough to see the hamper. I’m better acquainted with that than with any other part of the automobile,” he was musing, but brought up short as he discovered a figure suspiciously resembling that of motherly Mrs. Treat hurrying along a few yards ahead.
“Dear, dear! This will never do! I’ll have to make a flank movement and come up to the base of supplies before she does,” and with a flirt of his stubby tail, he galloped off in double quick time, taking a roundabout way toward the automobile.
“Now when the attack of the fort is made, I’ll capture that hamper by quick assault and retreat with my prize with all possible speed,” he planned, but alas! as he was about to make the raid, he found the foe already on the ground.
“Well, they say it’s an ill wind that blows no one good,” gloated Billy. “Even if I do lose my dinner, I will have the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Treat find out how I came to attend the Fair. Hope she lifts the lid—oh, my! see her face! Isn’t it lucky for one William Whiskers that he’s a safe distance away? Why, how, what is she doing?” as she began to scatter neat, tissue-wrapped packages right and left.
“It can’t be that she’s throwing all that luscious stuff away! I nibbled just a wee bit at it, to be sure, but plenty was left for their dinner. But here is where I lay in my ammunition for my afternoon campaign,” and with that he made his way to the automobile, arriving on the scene soon after Mrs. Treat, bubbling over with righteous indignation at her untimely discovery of the pilfered feast, hurried away with her ample, but exceedingly light lunch basket.
As you may happen to know, goats are not as fastidious as might be wished about their food, and what appeared the height of luxury to Billy had been scorned by the mistress of the Treat household as unfit to grace their table. The marks of Billy’s depredations were all too plain to be mistaken, and fully half the lunch had been discarded because Billy had poked his inquisitive nose into it.
“My mother taught her kids that extravagance is a sin, and to waste good food like this must be very wicked indeed. If I should leave it here to be tramped under foot, I’d not be able to rest easy for ever and ever so long. My conscience would prick me for not heeding my dear mother’s teaching, and that is about the worst punishment that can come to goat or man,” pondered Billy, as sandwiches, pickles, doughnuts, olives, and other goodies disappeared as if by magic.
“Now for a drink, and I’m ready for the afternoon. Of course, there’ll be many more people here in the afternoon, just as the evening crowds at the circus were always so much greater than those at the matinee performance. Large crowds make you step lively in order to keep up with the procession, and, fortified by forty winks of sleep, I’ll be equal to anything.”