AN EXCITING DAY FOR BILLY
As Billy stood watching the antics of the boys, a bumble bee began
buzzing around his head, bothering him by darting in and out of his
ears. He shook his head and tried also to paw it away, but it still
persisted in humming around and darting at him.
“Say, you old buzzer, if you don’t keep away from me, I’ll swallow you
alive,” threatened Billy.
Just then the bee made a dive for his nose, but Billy opened his mouth
and swallowed it. But not before the bee had stung his tongue. The pain
was terrific, and Billy jumped about as if he had suddenly gone crazy.
He stood on his head, rolled in the grass, wheeled round and round
on his hind legs and pawed the air with his fore feet, all the while
bleating pitifully.
Seeing the goat carrying on in this way, the boys thought he was trying
to mimic them, which made them laugh so they could not stand up, for
of course they did not know he had been stung. Alas for them! Billy
thought they were making sport of his pain, and with a single bound he
was upon them, glad of a chance to hurt something as he was being hurt.
He kicked, butted and pawed them until he had sent one boy over the
fence into the alley, and another was doubled up with his hands over
his stomach. Two boys escaped, but the fifth ran toward the kitchen
door, Billy in hot pursuit.
[Illustration]
The boy had slammed the door in Billy’s face and was running through
the house when Billy butted a big hole straight through the screen
door. This brought the goat up behind a big, fat cook who had her hands
in bread dough. Before she knew what had happened, she felt herself
falling backward. To save herself, she grabbed at the bread pan. Of
course it slid off the table and she fell on the floor. The bread pan
turned upside down over Billy’s horns, and the sticky mass of dough
went trickling down over one eye and on down over his nose.
The cook’s screams brought the master of the house from his study to
the kitchen, but on arriving at the doorway he was met by an infuriated
goat who lowered his head to butt him. On seeing such an adversary, the
master made haste to retreat and quickly put the dining table between
them. But he was not quite nimble enough for Billy was close on his
heels and the chase was on.
Round and round that table they ran, with Billy gaining at every step,
Mr. Robinson calling loudly for help. Bridget had collected her wits
by this time and came to his rescue with a broom and every time Billy
passed her on his way around the table after Mr. Robinson, she gave
him a whack with it. Billy paid not the slightest attention to her,
as he was much too intent on overtaking Mr. Robinson and giving him
one mighty butt. In an ill-fated moment Mr. Robinson’s foot slipped
as he rounded one end of the table. He grabbed the table runner to
save himself, but that did no good. He fell on one knee, and the table
runner carried with it vase, flowers and all, which came tumbling to
the floor just in time to fall on Billy’s head. It hurt him not at all,
but really did him a good turn as it washed the sticky dough from his
horns and eyes, for which he was truly thankful.
This little delay gave Mr. Robinson time to pick himself up and escape
through the hall and up the front stairs, which he took two at a time.
He rushed to his wife’s room, expecting to find the door unlocked,
but alas, it was bolted and he heard his wife calling, “Help! Help!
Burglars!” out of the window.
[Illustration]
“Mary, Mary!” he shouted. “Let me in! Unbolt the door! It is I, your
husband!”
But she was too frightened to recognize his voice, and would not leave
the window through which she was leaning to call for help.
Now the door to her room had an extra large transom over it, plenty
large enough for a person to climb through, and Mr. Robinson grabbed
a stool in the hallway, pushed it under the transom and succeeded in
raising himself up on the ledge of the door where he hung balancing
himself on his stomach when he heard Billy come clattering up the
stairs.
“Mary, Mary, open the door quickly! Stop that calling! Don’t you hear
me? It is I, your husband!” he shouted at her again.
But his wife only saw a man climbing through her transom and thought
it was one of the burglars she had heard downstairs, and leaned still
further out of the window in an attempt to see someone coming along the
street. She lost her balance and fell head first out of the window, but
as luck would have it, she landed in a soft flower bed, and the window
not being so very far from the ground, the fall did not injure her in
the least.
At the moment she fell, Billy reached the head of the stairs. Seeing
Mr. Robinson dangling there, half in and half out, he jumped on the
stool and gave him a mighty butt that shoved him all the way through,
and he landed on the floor of his wife’s room all in a heap. In a
moment he was on his feet and rushed to the window to see if his wife
had been killed by her fall, forgetting all about Billy in his anxiety
about his wife.
Billy’s prey having thus escaped him, and hearing footsteps on the
stairs, he knew somebody was answering Mrs. Robinson’s cries for help.
He ran down the long hall, hoping to find a back stairway, for he well
knew if he was caught by the police or whoever it was coming to the
rescue, they would club him. He was in luck, for he came to a pair of
stairs leading straight down to an outside back porch. And in a jiffy
he was out in the alley, running for dear life, trying to put as much
distance between himself and the Robinson house as he could.
All this time his tongue was half killing him with pain, and it was now
so swollen he could not close his mouth. He was wild for a drink of
water. He remembered he had seen a lovely sparkling fountain, and he
was increasing his speed so he would reach it quickly when he heard a
noise behind him that sounded like a patrol wagon coming lickety-split
down the street. However, it proved to be just a truck full of men,
and Billy thought, “I have no fear of _them_,” when suddenly the truck
stopped as it was about to pass him, and one of the men exclaimed,
“There he is now! The very goat we are looking for!” and two fellows
leaped out after him.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” said Billy to himself, and he kicked up his heels
and sped down the street and around the corner of the alley. The men
ran after him as fast as ever they could and the truck followed but
when they reached the corner, no goat was in sight.
“Drat that old rascal! He is hiding somewhere! But where I can’t
imagine as all I see are high back yard walls and fences, with not an
open gate any place,” said one of the men.
Just then three shrill screams rent the air about half way down the
alley. The men knew immediately that Billy must have run into a yard
and frightened some woman.
They were right in this surmise. Being a good jumper, Billy had leaped
over a wall and landed in a beautiful garden where a hammock was swung
between two trees. A lovely young lady lay in it, reading a book and
eating fruit. On seeing a big, white goat leap over the fence and come
straight towards her, she tried to get out of the hammock. But you know
what a hammock is when you try to get out of one in a hurry? It simply
turned upside down and she was in a heap on the grass, with fruit,
pillows and book all about her, and she began to scream and call for
help.
Billy grabbed a pear and trotted on through the yard. At that second a
big touring car was backed out of the garage by a chauffeur, and being
fond of riding in any kind of an automobile, Billy ran across the lawn
and with one bound was in the tonneau. This so surprised the chauffeur
that instead of stopping the car, he stepped on the accelerator and
the car shot out to the street at forty miles an hour. The moment they
were leaving in this manner, three men climbed over the back wall, one
ran after the car and the goat and the other two went to the aid of the
young woman who was still pleading for aid at the top of her voice.
She had rolled around in trying to regain her feet so that instead of
freeing herself, she had wound herself up in hammock and pillows until
she was helpless. The men quickly had her on her feet and then they all
ran to the front yard to discover what had become of the car and Billy.
Far down the street they could see a large crowd had gathered and they
hurried along, sure it must be caused by a wreck of the car in which
Billy rode.
“Wait until I tell our truck driver to come around on the street and
pick us up,” said one of the men as they ran. “We’ll get there that way
quicker than by foot.”
What really had happened was this:
When the chauffeur came to his senses, he tried to slow down but he
did not do so quickly enough and at a cross street he collided with a
milk wagon, upsetting it and spilling out all the milk cans. The impact
threw the chauffeur out of his car and stunned him for a minute. The
truck carrying the men came up just then, they picked him up and put
him in the truck, while one of them drove the auto back to the garage.
No harm was done the car with the exception of scraping off a little
paint, and, forgetting the loss of milk, the milk wagon suffered not
at all. And now where was the cause of all this commotion, Mr. Billy
Whiskers?
He was quietly drinking water from a crystal fountain in some private
grounds, and I am glad to say that the swelling of his tongue was fast
going down.
“Mercy! I believe I am tired! Guess I’ll just go over under those
bushes and take a nap,” he thought.
This he did, but he slept much longer than he had intended, for when
he awoke the sun was going down, and he decided to try to find Ruthie
once more. He had just stepped out into the street, when who should he
see driving down his way but Mr. Watson with Ruthie on his lap. They
had hunted and hunted for Billy with no success at all and had finally
decided to go home without the goat, getting the cart some other day.
They were as glad to see Billy as Billy was to see them. Mr. Watson
stepped out of his buggy and tied Billy under it, then driving slowly,
they went home to the farm.
Thus ended a very exciting day for Billy.