“Me, too,” said Clarence, following his mother’s example with a significance not to be misunderstood.
“If you’re really making an impression,” bleated William to Gustavius, backing away and shaking his horns, “one good, swift butt ought to do the business.”
Gustavius moved his hind quarters to one side, and bored away with one horn as hard as he could.
“Clear the track,” bleated the goat; “I’m coming!”
On came William with a rush that astonished even himself. The last leap was twelve good feet in mid-air. With his neck stiffened like a rod of steel, the roots of his horns struck the rubber tire squarely just below the boring sprout of Gustavius. There was an explosion and a fierce puff of something in their faces that sent both the goat and the bull-calf back on their haunches.
“It’s alive! It’s alive!” shrieked Cleopatra, as she wheeled about, filled with the joy of battle.
Lashing out with her heels at the red thing amidships, the mare’s heels clattered among the driving-levers most ominously. Clarence’s heels, being out of range in his excitement, did no damage. They looked around, snorting, awaiting the enemy’s retort. To their surprise the red thing remained motionless.
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Cleopatra, “what’s the use of attacking such a spiritless creature, anyway?”
“In my opinion you’ve killed it,” said Mrs. Cowslip. “I never saw such a smash in my life.”
“It was I who finished the thing,” boasted Gustavius, finding himself unhurt. “I felt its last breath in my face.”