Billy Whiskers at the Circus

by Frances Trego Montgomery

He had gone probably four miles before anything out of the common occurred to disturb his serenity or interfere with his peaceful progress.

It is altogether likely that he might have gone on and reached Springfield by eight o’clock at latest, in ample time to see not only the great parade but some of the show cars unload as well, had he not turned aside to snip a few heads of delicious looking cabbage which he chanced to spy in a garden at the side of a house he was passing. Cabbage, you know, is regarded about the finest of all vegetables by goats, and in this respect Billy Whiskers was no exception to the rest of his tribe.

So when he saw the beautiful green leaves sparkling with the dew of the early morning, the temptation was more than he could resist.

He was eating away at a great rate, having, as he afterward declared, the time of his life, when, without warning sound, he was startled nearly out of his wits by the feel of heavy hands suddenly laying hold of his horns. A voice that sounded to him like the crack of doom, (that is what he called it when he told the story to his grandchildren many years later) called out:—

“I’ve got you this time, my beauty, and I’ll be blest if I don’t keep you! You’ll pay well for stealing in my garden. Come here, Lige, and help me lock this goat in the barn. He’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen and I can’t handle him alone. Hurry up! He’s getting ugly.”

Billy was certainly becoming as ugly as he could under the circumstances, but there was very little chance for him to use his great strength, and as for butting his captor, Farmer Grant, none at all, for he had both Billy’s horns in his powerful hands and was rubbing his nose in the cabbage or dirt, wherever it happened to strike, with no let-up. With the aid of the hired man called Lige, Billy was finally pushed and pulled inside the big barn door, which was quickly shut and securely locked.

Even then Billy would have made things lively but his horns were still held in that horrible grip, and not until a stout strap was buckled about his neck and he was tied by a strong rope to a wagon wheel did the farmer let go, jumping out of harm’s way at the same instant, for he already felt no little respect for those long sharp horns and Billy’s strong neck.

“We’ll leave him for the day, and by the time we are back from the Circus he will be so hungry that we can manage him without risking our lives. He is certainly the biggest and handsomest goat I ever saw. I wonder where he comes from. You don’t suppose, Lige, that he belongs to the show and has run away? At any rate, he is mine now and anybody who gets him will have to pay well.”

Farmer Grant talked on at a great rate as he and Lige were hitching the span of handsome bay colts to the family surrey preparatory to going to Springfield for the day. They then went into the house for breakfast, and at eight o’clock the whole family had started.