“Oh, Night! do forgive me. I never would have done it if I had thought you felt as I do now. But I did not know then; and I wanted you all to myself. I know I was selfish and jealous, but do forgive me, won’t you?”
“Yes, dear little sister, I will forgive you because I did not care so very much for Spotty. If I had, you could not have kept me from her. I would have found my way back to Madeira, if I had spent the rest of my life looking for it. But you see, don’t you? that now you will be happy and contented; father and mother don’t need me now that they have you, so I am going out to see some more of the world and try to find another goat as nice as you are to marry. If I do, I will bring her back here and we will always live happily forever afterward, as they say in the story books.”
“But when and where are you going, Night? Do tell me. And you will surely wait until I am married, won’t you?”
“I am going West. I have heard all about the wonderful prairies, plains, and mountains out there, where there are hundreds of thousands of sheep, and how each flock has a large goat for a leader. Now it is my ambition to be one of those leaders.”
“How in the world will you get there? It is thousands upon thousands of miles from here, and you can’t walk all the way.”
“No, my dear, I know I can’t walk it, but I can walk part of the way and steal rides occasionally, like the tramps do. I will get there somehow, for I never failed to do anything which I made up my mind to do if I stuck to it long enough. I can just see those immense mountains lying so still and solemn, cut by innumerable bridle paths and cañons, where the sheep seek shelter from the driving storms, protected from the wolves that sneak down to devour them by their big billy-goat leader. He gives the signal of danger and with the shepherd drives off the hungry wolves.”
“For mercy sakes! don’t talk of going where there are wolves, for they will tear you to pieces and I shan’t close my eyes until you get back, I shall be so worried,” said Day.
“Don’t fear for me, sister mine. No old wolf will get the better of me while I have two such long, sharp horns on my head as I now have. Why, a wolf is nothing more than a wild dog, and you know how I treat ugly, cross dogs.”
“I don’t believe father will let you go,” said Day as a last resort to discourage his going.
“Oh, yes, he will. He was young once and liked adventures as well as I do now; and mother won’t mind after a few days, because she has you.”