He had gone through many streets and turned many corners, when he found himself opposite a beautiful, green, cool-looking park.
"This is the place for me," thought Billy, "it looks nice and quiet and as I am tired I will go in and lie down under one of the trees and eat a little grass."
After taking a nice rest and nap under the trees, he awoke, and feeling thirsty thought he would go and quench his thirst at a sparkling fountain he saw before him. He was quietly drinking and every once in a while swallowing a goldfish that swam too near his mouth, when someone from behind gave him a hard hit with a rake.
"It is a pity a goat can't take a drink without being pounded," thought Billy. "But as I have had enough I guess I will move on for I don't like the looks of this man's face, and I know he will give me no peace."
So he walked away slowly, just as if he were going away of his own accord, when the man gave him another hit with the rake. This was too much for Billy's pie-crust temper; he turned on the man, who was gardener of the park, and sent him sprawling over a hay-cock before he knew what had struck him.
As Billy walked toward the high iron fence that encircled the park he saw a policeman coming in at the gate. Now if there was one thing Billy detested, it was a policeman, and he made for him running at full speed with head down, and before the policeman had even seen the goat he found himself hanging by the seat of his trousers to the sharp iron pickets of the fence. Billy left him there struggling, kicking, swearing and calling for help while he made off as fast as his legs would carry him.
