The goat stared at me in an offensive manner, which I was bound to resent. So I said:
“You need not stare at me in this manner. Is this your gratitude for my conferring upon you the blessings of civilisation? Is this the thanks which I am to receive from you for teaching you logic, and how to draw inferences from postulates? To you we owe all this misfortune. It is your confounded curiosity that made you meddle with things for whose conception you were not mature, and which you could not realise, that brought about this war. The stubbornness with which you kept clinging to your preconceived opinions has caused this mutiny. Now you have turned into a goat, and I can only say it served you right.”
The goat tried to speak, but brought forth only a stuttering “ma-a-a-h,” which sounded to me like the ironical laughter of a scientist of old laughing at the rotundity of the earth.
The princess—that is to say, the goat—lowered her head.
“You need not get angry!” I exclaimed, feeling somewhat alarmed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I wish that I had never seen you. I am only sorry that it is I who is to be married to a goat.”
But before I had time to finish this sentence, the goat made a vicious rush at me, and gave me a butt on my stomach which took my breath. I grasped the princess by her horns, and a struggle ensued.
Just then I heard somebody yell in an unearthly manner, and recognised the voice as that of Professor Cracker. In a moment the situation became perfectly clear to me, and I was no longer Mulligan, but Mr Schneider. Jeremiah Stiffbone was close to me, calling upon somebody to have pity upon his soul; and from under him there came forth a series of indefinite grunts, in which I recognised Mr Scalawag’s voice. The goat escaped, and I knew that we still were in that hole in the Untersberg, near the Dragon’s Den, and that my adventure among the gnomes had been only a dream.
The rest may easily be imagined. The subterranean passage, into which we had entered for obtaining shelter, had another outlet upon the other side of the hill, and through that a herd of goats had come in for some purpose; but the rest of one of them had been rudely disturbed by the foot of Professor Cracker. No serious harm, however, was done, while the experience was not without scientific value, as it proved that the goat was very spirited—a circumstance that might be regarded as going to show that there was some spirit after all in that goat. This theory I, however, advance merely as a working hypothesis, leaving it to the reader to use his own judgment as to whether he will accept it as wholly true, or only in part.
Thus Mr Schneider’s story ended, and nothing has been heard publicly of the gnomes ever since. It is even believed that they keep their doors locked against all reformers. But, in commemoration of the event described, a board has been put up in the Dragon’s Den, upon which a representation of the encounter between the committee and the spirit of that goat has been roughly painted by an amateur artist; and below the picture there is a description of the adventure in doggerel verse, which caused me a great deal of trouble to translate, but which might be rendered in English as follows:—
“Stop, wanderer, and behold with silent contemplation,