And this is how he did it—not a very fair way, I should say. One noon Mike took the harness off Lightfoot, and, putting a rope around the goat’s neck, tied the other end to a tree, so Lightfoot would not stray away, as he had once or twice, meaning nothing wrong. Mike’s mother had not had time to put up his lunch that morning, so Mike went down to a little restaurant in the park, intending to get a glass of milk and some sandwiches.
“Now behave yourself, Lightfoot, while I’m gone. I’ll soon be back,” said Mike.
Lightfoot wiggled his little stubby tail. Whether he understood or not I can not say. He went on cropping grass, after he had eaten his hay and other fodder.
In a little while Henry came along. He saw Lightfoot tethered all by himself, the other goats having been taken to the stable. Henry looked about, and, seeing no signs of Mike, took up a stick, and, going toward Lightfoot, said:
“I’ll teach you to butt my goat! You won’t do it after I am through with you!”
Then, with the stick, he fell to beating Lightfoot. At first Mike’s goat did not know what to make of this. He looked up and seeing that it was one of the goat-boys, but not Mike, thought maybe it was a new kind of game. But as the blows from the stick fell harder and harder Lightfoot knew that it was no game.
Whack! Bang! Whack! Henry beat the stick on Lightfoot’s back.
Lightfoot tried to get away, but the rope held him. Then, suddenly the goat became angry, and you can not blame him. He knew he had strong horns and a strong head, given him by nature to butt with and defend himself.