“Oh, John,” gasped Fred, when he could get his breath. “You poor simpleton.”
“What are you talking about?” exclaimed John in surprise.
“Did you see an old man with white hair and a long beard?”
“Of course I did. That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“Well, there he is,” and once more Fred became convulsed with merriment.
His three companions looked in the direction he had indicated. At the brow of the hill, alongside a large rock, and gazing curiously down at them stood an old billy goat. His white beard gave him a most odd appearance.
“Is that the old man you saw?” demanded Grant, turning toward John. One glance at his companion, however, was enough to give him his answer. A foolish expression spread itself over John’s face and he became very red and embarrassed. He mumbled something under his breath, but no one could make out what it was that he said.
“Well, String,” cried George, “you certainly put your foot in it that time. I guess you’ll never hear the end of it either. You surely won’t if I have anything to say about it. An old man with a white beard. Baa!” and George imitated a goat and he too gave vent to uncontrollable laughter.
“There was a goat at each end of the opening, wasn’t there, Pop?” inquired Grant mischievously.
“There sure was,” George agreed. “The big one was at the bottom.”