“I don’t know anything about it,” said Lightfoot. “I was driven here, and I’ll do my best to give good rides to the children. I may not have come from the mountains, but the rocks where I live are very high and sweet grass grows on top. Can any of you jump from the high rocks down on top of the widow’s shanty?”
“Thank you, we don’t live near shanties,” said another goat. “We live in the park stable.”
“Just the same that was a good jump,” remarked a quiet goat, with short horns. “I was over that way once. I think I know the place you mean,” he went on to Lightfoot, and Mike’s goat was glad to know he had one friend.
“Well, he may be a good jumper but I don’t believe he can butt hard with his horns and head,” said the ill-tempered goat, who was called Snipper from the habit he had of snipping off leaves and flowers in the park.
“I once nearly butted a trolley car off the tracks,” said Lightfoot, “and I did shove a little girl out of the way of the car.”
“Pooh! That’s nothing,” sneered Snipper. “Let’s see how hard you can butt,” and he rose up on his hind legs and aimed his head and horns at Lightfoot.
“Look out, Lightfoot!” cried Mike. But the new goat was ready for Snipper. Rising on his own hind legs, Lightfoot butted the other goat so hard that he nearly fell over backward into the cart.
“Good! Well butted!” cried the kindly, short-horned goat. “That was fine!”
“You wouldn’t say so if you felt it,” bleated Snipper.
“Well, it was your own fault. You started the quarrel,” went on the friendly goat.