ne evening Bobby and his father were standing at the front gate talking when a dusty, red-faced, little fat man came trudging along the road with a white goat dragging at his heels. He was a queer looking figure and he seemed to be very much worried as he came up to them.
"Mister," said he to Mr. Sanders, "could you told me where I should get such a job yet?"
"I don't know of any place," said Mr. Sanders. "Where are you from? What countryman are you?"
"I been a Switzer," said the man. "I got no money, no job, no anything, only this one dumb-headed goat."
Mr. Sanders smiled as he looked from the man to the goat, both of them woe-begone tramps.
"Rather queer," he said, "to be tramping around the country with a goat. Where did you get it?"
"That should be all of my troubles, yet," said the man mournfully. "When I start von Switzerland I have more as two hundred goats what I have bought for a partnerships to a man for a goat farm back there about four hours' walk. I have such a wrecks by my ship and I lose me all but this one dumb-headed goat. Well, I have my ticket by the railroad to where this man should have the goats. I promise him some goats, I got one left, I come all the way von New York und take it to him and what you think? He won't have any. Because I don't bring him the more as two hundred goats what I promise, he won't take even this one dumb-head," and he scowled at the poor goat at his heels as if it had been the cause of all of his woe.
"How much will you take for your goat?" suddenly broke in Bobby.
"Oh, Bobby boy, you don't want another goat?" objected his father. "You've got the place overrun now."
"Oh but, father, I want a team," said Bobby. "I've been wishing for one to put on the other side of Billy when I'm having them do stunts, besides hitching them up to a cart that I am making. They will make a fine team."