“Have any of you seen Lightfoot?” asked Mike of the other boys. But they had all been to dinner themselves and had not seen what had happened. The other goats, too, had been taken to the stable for the noon meal.
Only Henry had seen Lightfoot run away, and he felt so unkindly toward the goat and Mike that he would not tell. Mike ran here and there, asking the park policemen and other helpers if they had seen his goat, but none had. Lightfoot had taken just the best possible time to run away—noon, when every one was at dinner. And now the goat was safely hidden in the bushes.
“Well, I’ve just got to find him,” said Mike to himself, as he looked at the goat’s harness hanging on a tree, and at the wagon with its strip of bright red carpet. “I’ve just got to find Lightfoot!”
Telling Mr. Marshall what had happened, and promising to come back with Lightfoot as soon as he could find him, and take up again the work of giving children rides in the park, Mike set off to find his pet.
Along the paths, cutting across the grassy lawns, looking under clumps of bushes, asking those he met, Mike went on and on looking for Lightfoot. Now and then he stopped, to call the goat’s name. But though once Lightfoot, from where he was hiding, heard his master’s voice he did not bleat in answer, as he had always done before.
“He is looking for me to whip me,” thought Lightfoot, “and I am not going to be whipped!”
Poor Lightfoot! If he had known that Mike would not whip him, but would have petted him, and given him something nice to eat, the goat might have come out from the bush where he was hiding and have trotted up to Mike. Had Lightfoot done this he would have saved himself much trouble. But then, of course, he would not have had so many adventures about which I will tell you.
After calling and looking for Lightfoot, even very near the bush under which the goat was hidden, but never suspecting his pet was there, Mike walked farther on. He had not given up the search, but now he was far from the place where Lightfoot was hiding.
Lightfoot stayed under the bushes and listened. He did not hear any one coming toward him, and he began to think he was now safe. He was beginning to feel a bit hungry again, so he reached out and nibbled some of the leaves.
“My! That tastes good!” he said to himself. “It’s better even than the grass that grows on top of the rocks at home.”