Billy Whiskers' Travels

by Frances Trego Montgomery

Slowly Billy backed away with his sharp horns lowered, and slowly the tiger came out on the deck, crouched down until his body almost touched the boards, his tail, full of hard muscles, waving slowly like a red and yellow snake. The men were panic-stricken and scattered in all directions, seeking places of safety wherever they could find them. Poor Hans Zug was the slowest of all. In his fright he stumbled over his own feet and fell three times to his hands and knees in trying to get away, and then he tried to hide himself behind a slim iron rod that ran up from the deck to the bridge, for he was too much paralyzed with fear to pursue his hunt any further for some safe hiding-place.

The tiger was not in a very big hurry about making his spring. He did not like the looks of Billy's horns, although he knew that he was much stronger and more powerful than the little white goat. Still they came on, Billy backing away and the tiger creeping toward him until they were almost where Hans Zug stood trembling so hard that his teeth chattered. Suddenly the tiger, with a swift spring, went up in the air, intending to jump clear over Billy's long horns and land upon his back, but Billy, himself as watchful and as careful as the tiger had been, sprang aside just as the tiger jumped, jerking his head sharply upward as the tiger went over him. One of his horns caught in the tiger's under side and ripped a big gash in him. Billy immediately sprang in the other direction, and the tiger, now fiercer than ever, wheeled quickly. This time his sharp claw caught Billy's shoulder as Billy jumped aside, tearing a big patch of Billy's hide loose. The pain staggered Billy and made him feel faint, but he knew it would never do to give up. The animal men now came running up from the rear hold, where some of the other animals were being fed, and one of them had a pistol, but the two animals were jumping about so swiftly that he could not be sure of shooting the tiger without shooting Billy, so he waited to see how the fight would turn out.

Time after time the tiger tried to get hold of Billy, but the goat was too quick for him, though each time they met one or the other of them got a mark. At last Billy felt that he was nearly whipped. The two animals were now facing each other for another spring. The tiger, too, was suffering from the last hook that Billy had given him but he was fresher than the goat. Billy swayed on his feet. The light seemed to turn into darkness before his eyes and he felt as if he were sinking down, down on a soft bed, but he kept his head bent in the tiger's direction. He felt, rather than saw, the tiger spring once more, and in spite of his weakened condition he braced himself up and gave one more sharp, hard toss of his strong neck. His horn caught the tiger right behind the front shoulder blade and pressed deeply in. This time he had found a vital spot. The tiger rolled over on his side, and, after a quiver or two, lay still. He was dead, but Billy did not know it, for the brave little goat had sunk to the floor with the tiger and lay as motionless as his dead enemy. The animal men came running up first, the one with the revolver in front of the others. Holding his revolver pointed straight to where he knew it would reach the animal's heart, he approached as slowly and cautiously as a cat creeping up to a mouse hole, felt the tiger's side and pronounced him really dead. Two of the men dragged the tiger away and the others crowded around the poor goat. At first they thought that he too was dead, but when they examined him they found that his heart was still beating slowly. One of them ran to bring water and another to get bandages.

When Billy woke up his wounds had been nicely washed, ointment had been applied to them, and bandages were carefully bound over them. The men were patting him gently and saying what a fine, brave goat he was and what a splendid fight he had made of it, and one big gruff voice, which Billy found out afterwards belonged to the captain, said:

"Well, this goat is not to be tied up any more. He shall have the freedom of the ship."

Billy moved his legs feebly and tried to get up, but not feeling quite strong enough yet, he sank back and found that his head was lying on somebody's knee. And now came the biggest surprise of all, for when Billy looked up to see who it was, here it was Hans Zug who was holding him!

"Ach, such a fine little goat, yet," Hans was saying, patting Billy's neck gently, while the great tears rolled down his round cheeks. "Such a brave little goat, yet. Thunder weather! He can butt me overboard once again if he should to like it! Aindt it?"

"WELL, OLD FELLOW, IF BROKEN BONES ARE ALL, WE CAN FIX THOSE."

Billy was the hero of the ship. It did not take him long to get well, and on the third day he was trotting around the deck as unconcerned as if he had never had a fight in his life. His bandages were off and only a little, red-edged scar on his shoulder remained to show how bravely he had fought the tiger. Hans Zug never was through praising him, but nevertheless, every time he went to speak to Billy he came toward him from behind, for Billy still had a way of shaking his head at him that made Hans feel like climbing a ladder. On the first day that he could go around unbandaged, nobody seemed to be able to pat Billy enough, but, true to his name, Billy could not long stay out of mischief.