The next day, Mary gave her kid a name; he was an excellent jumper, so she called him Capriole. She showed him to all the family, and allowed her little brothers and sisters to stroke and pat him. Capriole soon followed Mary all about the house; trotted by her side into the yard; ran races with her in the field; fed out of her hand; and was a great pet at all times. Capriole soon grew troublesome; he thrust his nose into the meal tub, and flour box; and sometimes got a blow for sipping the milk.
Capriole’s little horns soon began to appear, and a white beard sprouted at the end of his chin; he grew bold enough to fight when he was angry, and sometimes threw down Colin, Mary’s little brother, into the dirt. Every body said, “Capriole is getting too saucy; he must be sent away, or be taught to behave better.” Mary always took his part, and indulged him very much. Capriole loved his little mistress dearly.
Near to Mary’s house, were some large fields, and some tall rocks; a little further off was a high hill. One fine summer’s day, Mary had finished her morning’s work, and wanted to play with her kid; she looked about the house door, and could not see Capriole, she then ran to the field, and called aloud “Capriole! Capriole!” No Capriole came. She went on, and on, still calling her kid, but nothing was to be seen of him.
Her heart began to beat. “What can have become of him? Somebody must have stolen him—perhaps the neighbor’s dogs have killed him. Oh my Capriole! my dear Capriole! I shall never see you again.”
Mary began to cry, but she still went on, looking all round, calling “Capriole! Capriole!”
After a while she heard the voice of Capriole—she looked up, and saw her little goat standing on the edge of a high rock; she was afraid to call him, lest he should jump down, and break his neck. There was no danger; Capriole had run away from his mistress; he liked the fields and the rocks better than he liked Mary. She waited for him, however, till she was tired, and then went home and got her little brothers to go back with her to the foot of the hill. They carried some bread and milk for Capriole, but they could not persuade him back again; he had found a herd of goats, and they were playing together.
Mary went home crying to her mother, and told how Capriole had served her. “I’m sorry for you, my dear,” said her mother, “but take care, my daughter, not to love run-a-ways any more.”