BILLY HAS AN ENCOUNTER
“Such a goosie as she is,” chuckled Billy in delight, “I shall not lose
sight of--O-o-o-h!” his merriment changing to wonder, for there peeping
from behind the skirts of the second woman was a handsome goat, whose
coat was as white, whose horns were as long and well-shaped, whose very
_whiskers_ were as fine as Billy’s own.
There were very few occasions and small reason for Billy Whiskers to
envy individuals of his kind, for, as you have often been told, he
was a king among goats. He was finer looking, had a better carriage,
was larger and stronger, he could leap farther and butt harder than
ordinary goats, and so his proud position was not often questioned,
even though he sometimes grew overbearing and a trifle too boastful of
his prowess.
“O-o-oh!” he repeated, peeping out from the other side, only to find
the other goat doing exactly the same thing. “He’s a fine animal, to
be sure, and might prove a close rival. We’ll see how much backbone he
has,” and Billy slowly advanced, stepping high and tossing his proud
head from side to side the better to display his good points.
Goat Number Two likewise advanced, stepping just as high and lifting
his head and tilting it provokingly to one side.
“Ah, ha! So he’s going to show me he’s a thoroughbred, is he? Perhaps
it might be well for me to make his acquaintance and have him for my
friend,” weakening a little. “He’s sure to be a power wherever he may
live.”
Billy always did believe that it was a wise thing to make friends with
those who occupied prominent positions. This policy put into effect had
brought both adventure and many good berths to him, and so now it had
become almost second nature to Billy to bind to him as close friends
and allies all those he could not conquer.
“Anyway, even if he proves as overbearing as he looks, it will be
a great relief to talk to someone who can understand what I say. I
am not accustomed to being without companions, especially since my
Circus experience, and it’s lonesome without a companion to share my
pleasures.”
Bleating his greeting, Billy advanced with a smile. Billy the Second
nodded, but no answering bleat opened the way to conversation.
“I must admit that he’s rather offish and high and mighty. He could
at least pass the time of day,” thought Billy, unused to having his
friendly overtures met so coldly. “What shall I do to bring his High
Mightiness down from his throne?” and Billy half closed his eyes in
thought.
“Well, the impudent rascal! I do believe he’s mimicking me to arouse my
wrath. I’ll prove it to my entire satisfaction and then I will give him
the punishment such behavior deserves.”
There followed a series of advances, retreats and side steppings in
which Billy’s adversary proved an adept, closely imitating Billy’s
every move.
Jealousy began to grow in Billy’s heart, and, what is more, for the
first time in all his life Billy was AFRAID. Yes, he really doubted
his ability to conquer this foe in a fair fight, and the longer he
hesitated about closing with the enemy, the greater hold did this fear
have on him.
Were not those horns most splendid specimens? Of what would they not be
capable in battle?
Was not this goat strong of limb and well-nigh perfect in every point?
Did not those eyes fairly gleam with fighting zeal? And the nostrils
tremble with repressed excitement of the coming contest?
As many a wise general has evaded the enemy rather than risk a battle
when little would be gained if victory perched on his banners and much
would be lost if defeat met him, so Billy now decided that discretion
demanded withdrawal, and he quietly covered his retreat by using the
German woman and the ever-moving crowd as a shield.
“This is the first time Billy Whiskers has ever waved the white
feather,” he mused, hanging his head for very shame as he thought
of the cowardice of his actions. “I can never, never redeem myself
and--and, say, wouldn’t all my friends deride me if they knew? But I
shall hide my disgrace and keep it a close secret. Even old Browny
at the Farm shall never know, and I tell him most everything I do or
think.”
“Reputation is a great thing in this world, but self-esteem is better,”
he philosophized. “_I_ shall always know that away down deep in the
very bottom of my heart I am a coward, and that is what hurts. I am
half tempted this minute to return and give battle even if--but hello,
there he is and the opportunity to redeem myself is here!”
With that Billy was off like a rocket, and made his onslaught without a
moment to consider what the result might be.
With one leap he dashed at the goat, struck something hard--and crash
fell the mirror, for Billy had charged his own likeness in the Laughing
Gallery. Enraged by the noise of the falling of the shattered glass,
he plunged back to renew the contest. There before him stood his foe
unharmed, with head lowered and as eager for the fray as he.
[Illustration]
Once more forward, once more only the impact with the splintered glass,
and then another backward leap to locate his slippery enemy.
“Ah, ha! You won’t escape me the third time, my fine friend,” mumbled
Billy, with blood in his eye, gazing steadfastly into Billy the
Second’s, where gleamed the same bold, undaunted spirit.
“Come on! Come on! Fight fair!” bellowed Billy, renewing the fray--and
the third pier-glass was in atoms.
“Clear the room! Clear the room! Everybody out!” rang the cry, but
small need to issue the command, for those who had come to laugh had
departed quickly, as eager to be out and away from the scene of strife
as the burly, blue-coated officer was to have them.
“Hi, there, goat!” he shouted, and at the summons Billy turned to see
the officer bearing swiftly down upon him.
“I know his type too well,” was his quick thought, and he wheeled,
spied the door, and was out in the open air, now one of the crowd, now
skulking back of the buildings, dodging in and out between the small
tents to evade all possible pursuit. Once when the search grew too
harrassing for comfort, he even took refuge beneath a building which
was set on piles. He had to crawl under and lay perfectly flat and
quiet, for cruel nails and long slivers of wood from the rough sills
caught his coat and caused him exquisite pain whenever he ventured to
move.
“I would like to know how the other goat fared,” he thought. “Perhaps
they’ve caught _him_--hope they have. And will punish him--hope they
do. He was about the most impudent piece of goathood I’ve ever met, so
there!” and Billy wagged his head sagely.
He remained in safe hiding until all grew quiet--no murmur from the
passing crowds, no shouts and calls of fakirs hawking their wares.
The gloomy part of the day, when darkness falls without a sunset to
mark its close, had come ere he poked his head out, cautiously glanced
around, and found that in truth the grounds were deserted.