Billy Whiskers in France

by Frances Trego Montgomery

Then he gave a flick of his tail and started on a brisk run for the least guarded entrance to the camp, to try to sneak through.

“My, but it is lonesome traveling by myself!” he thought. “I do wish Stubby and Button were here to accompany me on this journey.”

Billy was so busy thinking of his old friends Stubby, the little yellow dog with a stubby tail, and Button, the big black cat with blazing eyes like buttons, that he reached the entrance to the camp before he knew it, and he managed to slip out without being stopped, for there was a jam at the gate caused by many big ambulances going out and army trucks coming in.

“Humph!” said Billy to himself. “If I get over all my difficulties as easily as I got through that gate and past the guards, my journey will be a smooth and pleasant one.”

He had been traveling some time when he heard some one say, “Hi, there, Billy Whiskers! What are you doing outside of camp? Looks to me as if you were trying to run away.” This from a driver of an ambulance who knew Billy was not to be allowed to escape from the camp. “Come here and I will give you a nice red apple.”

“See anything green in my eye?” winked back Billy. “I know you! You would give me an apple with one hand and slip a rope around my neck with the other. Anyway, where’s your apple? I don’t see any!”

“Here, Billy! Stop, I tell you, and come here! If you don’t like apples, here is a handful of salt,” and the soldier held his hand out as if he had it full of salt.

But Billy was too keen for him. He had seen him close his hand over nothing before offering it to him. So he kept right on walking as if he had not heard the soldier.

“Say, Bill, this is no joke! It is the General’s orders that you are not to escape, but to be made to stay in camp until we go home. You are too valuable a goat to allow the Germans to make you up into chops and roasts. Besides, when we get home we want to show the goat that stole Von Luxemburg’s maps and plans from under his very nose, and also butted or hooked all his staff into a heap in the corner of his own little room. If you won’t come back for apples or salt or coaxing, very well! I’ll have to lasso you, or shoot you in one of your legs so you cannot run away,” and the soldier turned his back to look for a rope in the ambulance, as he preferred to lasso Billy rather than shoot him. He was an expert with the lasso, as he had come from a ranch away out in Montana to join the army, and was considered the best hand with the rope in all Montana.