Then, all of a sudden, Lightfoot felt homesick. He thought of the fun he had had with Blackie and the other goats, and he wanted to go back to them.
“I think I’ll do that,” he said. “Maybe, after all, Mike will not let that other boy beat me. But I’ll wait until after dark.”
The sun sank down in the west. The children and their nurses went home from the park. The goats and wagons were taken to the stable. Mike came back from his search.
“Well, did you find your goat?” asked Mr. Marshall.
Mike shook his head sadly.
“No, I didn’t,” he answered. “But I’ll look again to-morrow.”
“If you don’t find him pretty soon,” went on the man, “I’ll have to get another goat and wagon.”
Mike felt sadder than ever at this for he knew the money he had been able to earn with Lightfoot was much needed at home. And it was with a sorrowful heart that Mike told his mother what had happened.
“Never mind, Mike me darlin’,” said the good Irish woman. “Maybe Lightfoot will come back to us some day.”
At dark Lightfoot crept out from under the bush. The lights were sparkling in the park, and he thought he could easily find his way back to Shanty-town. Mike had driven him from there to the park and back many times.