"Yes; I am just ready to," answered the milkmaid. "Are you ready, Lisbeth?"
"I am milking my last goat."
Soon everything was done, and the animals stood waiting to be let out.
Ole had with him a strong band woven of willow withes, with an ingeniously fastened loop at each end. One loop was for Peter's billy goat, the other for Crookhorn. Ole thought it was a very fine apparatus indeed.
"Where is Crookhorn?"
"In the cow house."
"Then I had better go in and get her myself. Bring your goat, Peter, and hold him ready."
Peter called his big billy goat. It knew its name and came at once.
"Let me see how strong you are," said Peter. He took hold of its horns, held its head down, and pushed against it. The billy goat bunted, took a fresh start, bunted again,—they often played in this way,—and sent Peter against the fence.
"There!" exclaimed Peter, picking himself up; "I rather think that billy goat is strong enough to drag any goat along, no matter how big a one." Peter fairly glowed with pride.