Then Lightfoot heard the sound of some boys’ voices calling, and as he remembered the boys, with the lumps of coal, who had chased him he shrank farther back into a dark corner.
Lightfoot could hear the patter of running feet. He did not want the boys to find him. He heard them calling again.
“Say, Mister, did you see a goat around here?” asked one of the boys.
“Goat? No, I didn’t see a goat.” It was the canal boat captain talking. “Get away from here now! I’m going to start the boat soon, and if you don’t want to be taken away on her you’d better go ashore.”
“Come on, fellers!” cried the boy who had first seen Lightfoot. “That goat ain’t here. He must have run up along the canal,” and away ran the boys, which was just what Lightfoot wanted.
Up above him Lightfoot could see the glimmer of daylight, for the hatches, or covers of the hold, were off, now that it was empty. When the boat was loaded with grain the covers would be put on, but they were not needed for coal, since water does not harm that.
“Well, I seem to be down in a sort of big hole,” thought Lightfoot, as he looked up. “It was easy enough to jump down, but I don’t know that I can jump out again. However, I don’t want to do that now. I want to stay where I am so those boys can’t get me. But I wish Mike were here with me.”
Lightfoot was beginning to feel a little lonesome, but there was so much that was new and strange all about him that he did not feel homesick long. He kept on walking to the other end of the canal boat.
Then he sniffed the air. He heard noises which he knew were made by horses, and then he caught the smell of hay, oats and straw.