Billy Whiskers' Travels

by Frances Trego Montgomery

"What's the matter?" asked Frank when he could catch his breath. "Does it hurt?"

The cook did not understand English but he felt that Frank was poking fun at him, and stopped his dance long enough to shake his fist at Frank. He wanted to say something very sharp and cutting to the boy, but he could not think of anything strong enough, so, after drawing his breath hard two or three times and screwing up his mouth with pain, he turned the gun muzzle end down, and, using it for a crutch, swung along back to the inn, muttering and mumbling all the way.

Frank laughed so hard that he had to sit down at the edge of the sidewalk a moment to hold his sides, but all at once he thought of his goat. There it was, going up the street, and although little more than a green and white speck now, Frank bravely took after it. He probably never would have caught it except that Billy, also being tired and feeling himself free from pursuit, stopped before a big house set well back from the street, on a wide, fine lawn.

Now the house in front of which he had stopped was the residence of the burgomaster, or mayor of the village, a very pompous fellow who thought a great deal of his own importance, and in the center of his lawn he had a fountain of which he was very proud. The water in the base of the fountain was clear as crystal and it looked very cool and inviting to Billy after his dusty run, and, besides, the paint on his back felt sticky. Without wasting any time about it, Billy trotted up across the nice lawn and jumped into the fountain for a bath, just as the burgomaster came out of his front door with his stout cane in his hand.

"Pig of a goat!" cried the burgomaster, hurrying down the walk and across the lawn. "Out with him! Police!" and he drew a little silver whistle from his pocket, whistling loudly upon it; then, shaking his cane in the air, he ran up to the edge of the fountain, the waters of which were turned a bright green by this time. Billy saw him coming, but, instead of jumping out of the fountain and running away, he merely splashed around to the far side of the basin. The burgomaster ran to that side of the fountain but Billy simply splashed around out of his reach. Then the burgomaster, up on the stone coping of the fountain, began to run around and around after Billy, the goat keeping just out of his reach and the burgomaster trying to strike him with the cane. At last, after an especially hard blow, the burgomaster went plunging headlong into the green water of the basin, where he floundered about like a cow in a bath tub.

Billy jumped on him and used him as a stepping stone out of the basin, running back to the street just as Frank and a stupid looking policeman came running up from different directions. At first the policeman was going to arrest the goat, but Frank pointed to where the burgomaster was still flopping around in the fountain and the policeman ran to help the burgomaster, who was now dyed a beautiful green, face and hands and clothes, while Frank took Billy by one horn and raced back down the street with him. This was what Billy liked. He was a young goat, and, like other young animals, was playful, and he thought that Frank's racing with him was good fun, so he went along willingly enough, and when Frank let go of his horn, he galloped along beside his young master very contentedly.

Frank ran back to the hotel with his goat as fast as he could go, but when they drew near he saw a large crowd out in front and their carriage waiting for them, with the horses hitched and the driver sitting up in front. Mrs. Brown was in the carriage and Frank's father was in front of the crowd handing out money, first to one and then to the other. When Frank and his goat came up his father looked at the goat very sternly.

"See all the trouble that animal has made us!" he said. "I have had to pay out in damages nearly every cent of cash I have with me, and as there is no bank in this little village, my letter of credit is worth nothing here. We must hurry on to Bern as fast as we can, and I want you to leave that goat behind you. We can't bother with him any more. Come on and get in."

"But, father," explained Frank, "the goat did not know what he was doing."

"It does not matter," replied Mr. Brown. "There's no telling what kind of mischief he will get into next."