“Well, I guess I’m tired. I seem to be held fast no matter what I do. I’ll quit.”
And that is just what Mike wanted, for he was tired of being pulled about in this fashion.
“Well, I guess he’s learned that part, anyhow,” said Mr. Murphy. “Now we’ll hitch him to the wagon.”
While Mr. Murphy was bringing up the wagon, and Mike was holding Lightfoot, Blackie came up and asked:
“What was all that for, Lightfoot?”
“Oh, I guess it was a new kind of game. I can’t say I like it though. I had rather jump on the rocks,” answered Lightfoot.
“No, it was not a game,” said Grandpa Bumper, coming up just then. “You are being taught to let yourself be harnessed up to draw a cart, Lightfoot, and here they come with the cart now.”
“What does that mean?” asked the leaping goat. “Will it hurt?”
“No, not if you behave yourself. Once I was a cart-drawing goat, and I worked in a nice park. I’ll tell you about it so you’ll know what to do.”
And when the cart was brought up, and the shafts, one on each side of Lightfoot, were being fastened with straps, the younger goat stood very still, listening to Grandpa Bumper tell, in goat language, just what it all meant.