It was the cunningest goat you ever saw, lively but good, and so pretty—light gray, with a little beard. Mother had bought it early in the spring. On Sundays it had a blue ribbon around its neck, and other days a red worsted collar with a white button. It was a great pet.
John had lately decided that there was too little grass for it back of the barn and that the goat must go every day over to Grassy Island for a good meal.
There was no trouble in getting the goat down to the wharf, for it would follow John wherever he went. To get it into the boat was another matter, but that was accomplished at last, and they started out over the water. John rowed and Asta was to hold the goat; but suddenly it got contrary. It kicked out in spiteful fashion, put its head right against Asta’s stomach, and was altogether unruly.
ONE DAY IN VACATION
“Hold it still, why don’t you?” shouted John. Asta struggled and strove, but without success.
“Oh, how stupid you are!” exclaimed her brother.
Evidently he would have to attend to the goat if it was to be made to behave. With this thought, Johnny Blossom laid his oars down and scrambled over the thwart. Now indeed was there a great to-do! The goat kicked and the boat rocked and tipped in a frightful manner. Johnny Blossom strove his best to get control, but the goat’s legs went like drumsticks. The boat took in water at a great rate as it rocked violently from side to side.
“You’ll go into the water, youngsters!” shouted some one from the shore. It was Pilot Stiansen.
Indeed, they wouldn’t go into the water! Oh, the horrid little goat!