"Funny, ain't it?" Sam cried, angrily. "I s'pose you'd laugh if I'd been killed in your old tent!"
This savage remark appeared to excite the man's mirth rather than check it, and while he was thus enjoying himself Teddy and Dan stood gazing at him in surprise.
It was several minutes before the man could speak, and then he said, as he pointed to the goat who stood a short distance away calmly munching some potato parings:
"That's the fellow who has been beating your friend with a club. I always let him loose at night, and he has walked over our dying boy."
Sam insisted that he had been beaten with a club; but on examining his clothing two spots of fresh earth were found, showing where the animal had stepped. A hoof-print on the sleeve and another directly on the breast of his coat comprised the full amount of damage done.
The boy who had believed himself so dangerously wounded now grew angry, and, leaping to his feet, declared he would not remain in the tent another minute unless the goat was tied.
"There's nothing to prevent your bunking somewhere else," the owner of the animal replied, quite sharply.
"Billy always has had the liberty of the tent at night, and I reckon he won't lose it now."
Sam started toward the entrance; but before reaching it he realized that he would be punishing no one but himself, and slowly turned back, saying as he approached the stove:
"It's too late to hunt for lodgings now, an' I s'pose I'll have to make the best of it."