"Roast kid is a very fine dish," said the farmer. "I don't know to whom this goat belongs, but whosever it is he owes us a meal, so we're going to roast him."
CHAPTER III
BILLY SEES HIS MOTHER AGAIN
obody, not even a goat, likes to think of being roasted for dinner, and so, the minute he heard that, Billy gave an extra hard tug at the wire, but it only cut his neck and choked him and would not break. So he gave it up and "baahed" pitifully while he looked to Caspar for help.
"Indeed you will not roast this goat," said sturdy Caspar. "He's my goat; he chased my dog and I'm going to keep him."
Caspar looked up at his father and his father looked down at Caspar. Billy looked up at both of them. Little Caspar and big Caspar stood exactly alike, both of them with their fists doubled on their hips and both of them with square jaws and firm lips, and it was big Caspar, who, proud to see his boy looking so much like himself, finally gave in. He laughed and said:
"All right, he's your goat, but you have got to take the whippings for all the damage he does."
"Very well," said Caspar, "I'll do it," and his father walked away.
Billy was so pleased with this that he made up his mind to be very nice to the boy, and when Caspar stooped down to take the empty plate away, Billy ran his nose affectionately into young Oberbipp's hand. Right after breakfast Caspar took off the wire from Billy's neck, holding a switch in his hand to whip the goat over the nose in case he tried to butt or run away. But Billy did neither of these things. He followed his new master out in the yard, and there he was backed up between the shafts of a little wagon that had been made for Fleabite. The dog capered and barked and made a run or two at Billy, but the goat only shook his horns at him and Fleabite ran under the barn. The dog was jealous. He did not like the wagon, but, rather than have the goat hitched up to it, he wanted to haul it himself.