"Oh! ho!" he thought, "the tramp thinks that I have gone to bed, and that he will get a drink, and then prowl around some more. Well, we will see. I will just get my shot gun and fire a shot to scare him, if he does not answer."
So grabbing his gun, which always stood by the window loaded for use, he called out again:
"Who is there? Speak, or I'll shoot!"
As the words left his mouth, an object started on a run from the well, and Mr. Wagner fired, not stopping to see what it was, but supposing it to be a man. Just then the moon sailed from under the cloud, and there in the moonlight lay poor Billy Whiskers stunned and nearly frightened to death with a flesh wound in his side. When Mr. Wagner saw what he had done, and that it was only the goat, he pulled down the window, and went to bed, too mad to even go to see if the goat was dead or not.
The next morning Billy was as lively as ever, only a little faint from loss of blood and rather subdued. The children bathed his wound with witch hazel, and after a good breakfast, he was as well as ever, and ready for play or work.
Of course Mrs. Wagner said, "I told you so," several times, only varying it with, "Yes, you just wait and see, that goat will get into more trouble than he is worth, just see if he won't."
When she said this, she did not know of the midnight meal off her nice lettuce he had had in the garden.
Billy did not get into much mischief during the remainder of the day, except chewing up the dish-rags which were hung on the lilac bush to dry, and all the flowers off the oleander.
The next day was his unlucky day, maybe because it was Friday. It happened in this way, Mr. Wagner had some extra nice strawberries, which he had taken special pains to pick and fix up, intending to send them to a friend in town. He told the boys that they could take the goat cart and drive into town, with the berries and some nice lettuce for his friend, and get the mail on the way back.
The boys were delighted at the prospect of driving Billy in the new cart. They packed the things in nicely, and hitching Billy up, drove out of the lane in fine style, on a fast trot. Everything went well until half-way to town, when Jimmy Brown sicked his dog on the goat, and then the trouble commenced.