Down, down went his nose, and then, with a sigh that the very last of the brown, sweet stuff had disappeared, he stepped back, and took a deep breath of satisfaction.
“’Tis the richest meal I’ve had since—since—well, that I’ve ever had. I can’t begin to remember anything half so good in all my lifetime. But I wish that corn would drop off my whiskers and neck! It’s uncomfortable, though I did not notice it while I was eating. I’ll take a little of that pure white taffy all spread out on that enormous pan, and then be off to greener pastures.”
Putting the thought into action, he hopped up on the counter and walked along until that particular taffy tray was reached. He opened his mouth, took one generous bite, and began to chew.
What was the trouble? What had he done? Would it ever end? He’d starve to death if it didn’t, starve slowly, yet surely growing thinner and thinner, hungrier and hungrier minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and week by week. Perhaps he would live months and years and never be able to munch the sweet grass and fragrant clover again.
These were Billy’s sombre thoughts as he worked in vain to open his jaws. No use. They were held as in a vise, and no effort on his part would loosen the hold of the vile stuff on his teeth. It made his jaws ache, and his eyes began to bulge with a strange fear as his struggles proved so futile.
Thinking to flee from the danger that threatened him, he bounded out of the booth and sped on and on, quite without thought of his destination, his one aim being to rid himself of the terror. On and ever on he ran, taking long, easy leaps, until he brought up short at a high fence which bordered the grounds. This served to bring his flight to an end, and he disconsolately huddled down in the long grass.
“I’ve but one friend on the grounds, outside of the over-proud Duke, and I’d die before I’d show myself to him in this plight. Toppy must help me out, and I believe I can rely on her,” and no sooner had the thought popped into his head than he was up and off like a streak to hunt up the little hen.
It was no trouble at all to locate her particular box this time, and though it was not the haughty goat that had presented himself before her but a short two hours ago, he hastened along.
“Oh, Billy, Bill-ee!” with the accent strong on the last syllable, she cackled with much concern, for Toppy had been crouching down close to the screen ever since Billy had walked off in such high disdain.