TRAVELLING WITH A BILLY-GOAT
Would you believe it? Karsten got a live billy-goat as a present from
Mother Goodfields, and I got a live wild forest-cat from Jens Kverum's
mother. Of course I wanted something alive since Karsten had the goat,
so I begged and teased Agnete Kverum until she finally said I might have
the yellow-brown cat I wanted. Not that I would not rather have had the
goat, you may be sure, though naturally I wouldn't let Karsten know
that. He was puffed up enough over it, as it was.
Well, anyway, we took both the goat and the cat with us when we went
home; but anything so difficult to travel with you can't possibly
imagine. Now you shall hear the whole story from first to last; for if
anybody else has a desire to take a real live goat or cat with them on
the train or into the ladies' cabin of the steamboat, they had better
know all the bother and row-de-dow it will make. I advise every one
against doing it. All the people who are traveling with you get angry,
although it is scarcely to be expected that a billy-goat or a wild cat
will behave nicely in a ladies' cabin. At any rate, ours didn't. Listen
now.
Mother Goodfields had any number of goats. They were all up at the
saeter except two, and these roamed in the forest with the cows, because
each of them had an injured leg. But one day one goat was missing and
nobody in the world could find it.
Old Kari mourned for it constantly and talked of nothing else. Every day
she pictured to herself a new horrible way it had met its death. Either
it had got caught in a mountain crevice and starved to death, or a wolf
had taken it, or Beata Oppistuen had butchered it without any right to.
"That Beata! You could expect any kind of doings from her." Old Kari
went to and fro in the forest seeking the goat till far into the night.
But one fine day there on the forest side of the farm fence stood the
lost goat with a tiny little baby-goat at her side. And that kid was the
prettiest and cunningest you ever set eyes on. It had a soft silky
little beard, and it stood on its hind legs and hopped and skipped as if
it would jump over into the field.
The cows came and sniffed at it; the other goat, that had stayed at home
with them, examined it very particularly; and the little kid danced,
zigzag and every which way; and so it was introduced to society, you
might say.
How we children ran after that little billy-goat! But Karsten was the
worst, for he went to the forest every single day to tend it and brought
it home every single night.
"I rather think I shall have to give you that kid," said Mother
Goodfields to Karsten one night as he came along carrying it.
From that time Karsten was a changed boy altogether, for he didn't give
a thought to the big lake that he had cared so much about all summer. In
his brain there was absolutely nothing but that billy-goat. It ate
bread and butter and drank out of a teacup; and one night when Mother
went up to bed she caught a glimpse of Billy-goat's beard above the
blanket beside Karsten's head. Just imagine! Karsten was going to let
the kid sleep with him. But Mother put a stop to that and Karsten had to
hurry down-stairs and out to the barn with the goat.
Karsten never allowed me to touch Billy-goat and so I wanted to have a
pet animal of my own. I considered seriously for a day or two as to
whether I should not ask Mother Goodfields for a brown calf that was
kept out in the pasture; but one fine morning it was slaughtered, so
there was an end to that plan. Then I brought my desire down to Agnete
Kverum's cat. It was golden-brown and had long hair and was exactly like
a big cosy muff; and in the muff were two great yellow eyes. Whenever I
went up to the Kverum place it sat curled together on the door-sill and
purred and was perfectly charming. I didn't give Agnete a minute's rest
or peace, and so, as you know, I got the cat.
Strangely enough, Mother was not in the least overjoyed when I came back
carrying the forest-cat.
"I don't like these presents," said Mother. "There will only be tears
and heartbreak when you have to leave them."
"Leave them!" exclaimed Karsten and I in one breath. "Oh, but you know
they must go back home with us!"
"The goat is so smart about going up and down stairs," said Karsten.
"And it likes to drink out of a teacup and it can perfectly well stay in
the hotel garden over night in the city."
"Are you crazy, you two?" said Mother. "It would never do in the world."
But we teased and begged so, that Mother finally said yes--we might take
them. For the potato-cellar was full of rats, she said, that the cat
might take care of; and you could always get rid of a goat in our town.
And I promised that I would hold on to the cat through the whole
journey, and Karsten would hold on to the kid, and Mother needn't think
they would be any worry or nuisance to her at all. No indeed--far from
it.
Well, off we went. When Mother talks of our journey home from the
country that time, she both laughs and cries. First we had to drive
nearly twenty-five miles. Mother and Karl and Olaug, and the kid and
Karsten, and the forest-cat and I, and the hold-all and lunch-basket and
bundle of shawls--all were in one carriage. Nobody kept quiet an
instant, for Karlie boy wanted to know who lived in every single house
along the road, and Olaug whimpered and wanted to eat all the time, and
the forest-cat could not by hook or crook be made to stay in any basket,
but would sit on the driver's seat and look around; so you see, I had to
stand and hold it so it should not fall out of the carriage. And the
goat kicked into the air with all its four legs and would not lie in
Karsten's lap a minute. You had better believe there was a rumpus!
Mother said afterwards that she just sat and wished that both the cat
and the goat would fall out of the carriage; she would then whip up the
horse and drive away from them, she was so sick of the whole business.
At last we came to the first place where we were to stay over night.
Karsten and I took our pets with us to our rooms. They should not be put
into a strange barn and be frightened, poor things! But oh, how those
rooms looked in the morning! I can't possibly describe it.
Mother was desperate.
"Do let us get away from this place," she said. "There's no knowing how
much I shall have to pay; it will be a costly reckoning, I'll warrant
you."
It was.
Well, we all hurried, and flew down to the little steamer. It was
cram-jam full of passengers,--ladies who sat with their opera-glasses
and were very elegant and looked sideways at you; and sun-burnt
gentlemen with tiny little traveling caps. They all looked hard at
Karsten and me with our animals in our arms.
The billy-goat bleated and was determined to get down on to the deck,
and the cat miaowed and the ladies drew their skirts close and looked
indignant.
"Go into the cabin!" said Mother.
Karsten and I scrambled down below with the goat and the cat. There
wasn't a living soul there, nothing but bad air and red velvet sofas. We
let go of both the goat and the cat. It would be good for them to stir
their legs a little, poor creatures!
Pit-pat! pit-pat! Away went the goat to a sofa, and snatched a big bite
out of a bouquet of stock that lay there. One long lavender spray hung
dangling from Billy-goat's mouth.
"Oh, are you crazy? Catch your goat! Catch your goat!"
But the flowers were gone and the goat was dancing sideways over the
cabin floor.
From the sideboard sounded a thud and a horrible rattle te-bang of
glass and silver. The cat had sprung right up into a big bowl of cream
and all the cream was running down on the sofa.
It is a horrible sight to see two quarts of cream flowing over a red
velvet sofa! Oh, how frightened I was!
"Hold the door shut, Karsten!" I said. "I'll try to dry it up."
With shaking hands I tried to mop up the cream with my
pocket-handkerchief, while the cat and the kid lapped and drank the
cream that trickled down to the floor; and Karsten held the door shut
with all his might.
But it was like an ocean of cream. It was impossible--impossible for me
to dry it up.
"Oh, Karsten! what shall we do?"
"It was your cat that did it."
"Yes, but your goat ate the stock."
"Let's run away," said Karsten; and carrying the goat and the cat we
rushed up the narrow cabin stairs. But, O horrors! There wasn't any sort
of a place where we could hide.--And how it did look down in the cabin!
And Mother didn't know the least thing about it. O dear! O dear!
"If they only don't throw Billy-goat and the cat overboard!" said
Karsten thoughtfully.
"Are you up here again?" called Mother.
"Ye-es."
We ran away out forward, away to the bow of the boat. Usually I think
there is nothing so jolly as to sit far, far out in the bow, seeing
nothing of the boat back of me, just as if I were gliding forward high
up in the air. But to-day it wasn't the least bit jolly, for all that
cream down on the sofa was frightful to think of. Karsten and I couldn't
talk of anything else. He was angry, however, because I hadn't mopped it
up.
"Well, but I couldn't wipe it up with nothing."
"Oh, you could have taken your waterproof or something out of our
trunk."
I was really struck by that thought. Perhaps--perhaps I could get hold
of something to wipe up all that disgusting cream with. We both got up
from the box where we had been sitting. O horrors! There stood the
dining-room stewardess facing us. No sight could have been more terrible
to me.
"Oh, here you are, are you? Of course it was you who have got things in
such a condition in the dining-saloon."
I looked at Karsten and Karsten looked at me.
"Yes, the cat upset the bowl," I said faintly.
"Well, it's a pretty business," said the stewardess. "And we are in a
fine fix and no mistake. Dinner spoiled, no more cream for the
multerberries, and they're nothing without it, the whole cabin running
over with cream, the sofa absolutely ruined, glasses broken,--oh, you'll
have a handsome sum to pay! Well, you've got to go to the Captain," and
she swaggered across the deck.
But now Mother had heard about it, and she came towards us with a face I
can't describe,--and the Captain came; and there Karsten and I stood
holding the goat and the cat in our arms.
Oh, it was an awful interview! The Captain wasn't gentle, not he, and
Mother had to pay heaps of money.
"There is no sense in traveling with such a menagerie," said the
Captain.
The passengers who had nothing but dry multerberries for dessert were
certainly angry with us, and Mother was most unhappy. But the cat lay in
my lap and blinked with its yellow eyes and purred like far-away
thunder,--it was so happy; and Billy-goat rubbed its head with that
silky beard against Karsten's jacket and looked up at him with its
trustful black eyes; so neither Karsten nor I had the heart to scold.
And it wouldn't have done any good, anyway.
At the train, trouble began again, for just imagine! No one knew what
the freight charges should be for a kid. The ticket-agent stuck his head
out of his window to stare at the innocent little creature, and the
station-master pulled at his mustache and stared too; and they turned
over page after page in their books and whispered together. At last they
made out that the cost would be the same as for a cow. Mother shook her
head but paid. (I was glad I had my cat in a basket where no one noticed
it, and it slept like a log.)
Since the kid was so very tiny, Karsten was allowed to take it into the
compartment with us, for it was absolutely impossible to let that baby
go alone into the cattle-car.
"Thank goodness!" said Mother when she finally got us all settled. "Now
there are only five hours more of this part of the journey."
Two ladies were in the compartment--one very severe-looking who had a
lorgnette, the other fat and jolly, with awfully pretty red cherries on
her hat. Little Billy-goat stood on the seat and ate crackers, making a
great crunching. The fat lady laughed at it till she shook all over, but
the severe lady drew the corners of her mouth down, looking crosser
than ever.
Karsten was so glad to have some one admire the kid that he made it do
all the tricks it could. However, that was soon over, for it could not
do anything except stand on two legs.
Just as it stood there on two legs, with the most innocent face you can
imagine, it gave a little leap--oh, oh! up towards the hat of the fat
lady; and that very instant the beautiful red cherries crackled in
Billy-goat's mouth.
"Oh, my new hat!" screamed the fat lady.
"It is outrageous that one should be liable to such treatment," said the
cross lady.
"That's the time you got fooled, Billy-goat!" said Karl, "for you got
glass cherries instead of real cherries."
Mother had lost all patience now and no mistake; and the kid had to go
under the seat and lie there the whole time. And Mother offered the fat
lady some chocolates and some of Mother Goodfields' home-made cakes that
we had brought for luncheon, and begged her pardon again and again for
Billy-goat's behavior; so that finally the fat lady was a little
appeased. The goat had eaten four of the glass cherries and there were
eight still left on the hat, so it wasn't wholly spoiled.
[Illustration: The beautiful red cherries crackled in Billy-goat's
mouth.--_Page 236._]
"Well, all I know is I would never have stood it," said the lady with
the lorgnette.
The forest-cat behaved beautifully, sleeping the whole time on the
train; and we all grew tired, oh! so tired. I couldn't look out of the
window at last, I was so utterly tired out. And I did not bother myself
about either the cat or the billy-goat.
Finally we rumbled into the city and to the station platform.
But Mother was altogether right in saying that it would never do in the
world to have a billy-goat in the city. When we got to the hotel where
we were to spend that night, there stood the host at the door. He is a
very cross man. When he saw Billy-goat in Karsten's arms he was furious
at once. He had not fitted up his rooms for animals, he said, and the
goat would please be so good as to keep itself entirely outside of them.
So Billy-goat was put into the pitch-dark coal-cellar--and had to stay
there the whole night.
When we went down the next morning it stood on two legs and danced
sideways from pure joy. But when Karsten took it out into the court,
pop! away went the goat over the low fence into the hotel-keeper's
garden, then out by an unlatched gate into the wide, wide world.
"No," said Mother firmly, "you may not go to look for it, nor will I ask
the police to find it. If I haven't suffered and paid enough for that
creature----"
* * * * *
Poor little Billy-goat! It was a sin and a shame that we ever took you
away from the forest at Goodfields!