Billy, having done more damage than a dozen ordinary goats could hope to do in a lifetime, now made for the door, and the people there scattered very quickly to let him through. Billy himself had received his share of the green calsomine and he was a queer looking sight as he darted out and went flying up the street, with an enemy after him in the shape of the fat cook, who had grabbed down a shot-gun from where it hung over the mantlepiece in the dining-room and had started out after him.
The cook was mad clear through and he was going to kill that goat. Frank, however, was close after the cook, and being able to run much the faster, soon caught up with him.
"Wait!" he panted, tugging at the tail of the cook's white jacket. "Wait! That's my goat!" he cried. "Don't you kill my goat!"
"Away with you, nuisance!" cried the cook, jerking loose from Frank and at the same time pushing him.
Frank fell over backwards, although it did not hurt him, and while he was getting to his feet the cook took careful aim at the flying goat and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER IV
THE BURGOMASTER IS BUMPED
illy Mischief was lucky. In his excitement the fat cook had forgotten that the shotgun had not been loaded for five years. The cook was so angry that he nearly burst a blood vessel. Grabbing the gun by the barrel, he jammed it, as he thought, butt end on the ground. Instead of that, however, he struck his broad foot a mighty thump.
"Thunder and hailstones!" he screamed, and jerking his foot up he began to hop along on the other leg, making the most ridiculous faces while he did it. In spite of the pain that the gun must have caused the cook, Frank could not help but laugh, and he forgot all his anger at the push the man had given him.