“Why, he seems to like it,” said Mike as he fastened the last strap. “He didn’t try once to get away, Mr. Murphy.”
“I guess he’s getting used to it,” said the kind Irishman.
But if he and Mike had known, it was what Grandpa Bumper had said to Lightfoot that made the young goat stand so still and allow himself to be hitched to the cart.
“Well,” said Lightfoot to the old goat when the harnessing was finished, “it may not be so bad after all. I guess I’ll be good and not run away. I’ll pull the cart nicely.”
“It will be best, I think,” said the old goat.
So, when Mike took his seat in the cart, and pulled on the reins, calling to Lightfoot to “Gid-dap!” the goat started off, pulling the little wagon as though he had done it all his life.
“Oh, this is great!” cried Mike. “I never thought he would learn as easily as this.”
“He is a smart and sensible goat,” the Irishman said. “Now look out if he gets going too fast.”
But Lightfoot did not seem to want to run away. He trotted along up and down the street, soon learning to turn to the right or the left as Mike pulled the reins.
Once or twice Lightfoot started to run swiftly, but Mike pulled back on the reins, and the iron bit in his mouth, pressing on his tongue and teeth, told Lightfoot that he must go more slowly.