THE BEARS BEGAN TO PUSH APPLES, CAKES AND PEANUTS
THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE TO BILLY.

(Page [75])

BILLY WHISKERS
AT THE CIRCUS

BY
F. G. WHEELER

Drawings by ARTHUR DeBEBIAN

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK AKRON, OHIO CHICAGO
1913
MADE IN U. S. A.

Copyright 1908
by
The Saalfield Publishing Co.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS

[The bears began to push apples, cakes and peanuts through the bars of the cage to Billy.]

[The procession finally moved off.]

[“Quit that!” shouted Billy.]

[“I’ll give you this pony, harness and wagon if you’ll let me have Billy.”]

[He rode on the back of Jumbo, the great elephant.]

[Tom and Harry invited them to the house.]

Billy Whiskers at the Circus

CHAPTER I
BILLY FIRST HEARS OF THE CIRCUS

WHEN Billy Whiskers settled in Farmersville he fully expected to end his days in that quiet little community where he had a good home, plenty to eat, many friends and enjoyed the reputation of being the wisest of the animals at Cloverleaf Farm.

Those of you who do not know his earlier adventures had better read them in the other Billy Whiskers books. There is no time to tell them now for so much happened at the Circus we shall have to hurry in order to get through telling about it by the time this book comes to an end.

Even Billy himself, in after years, when he amused his great grandchildren with stories of his earlier life, used to say that the day at the Circus and those that followed were the most exciting and interesting of all his life; and although he was asked to repeat the story very often he generally refused, keeping it for special occasions like birthdays, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving or Christmas. He said if told too often, it would become an old story and all the kids in time would begin to regard their grandfather an old bore, just as they did the Mexican parrot who was forever telling the same thing over and over again. Billy Whiskers, you see, was very wise. He knew that good stories are just like good clothes or anything else choice, that in order to keep them good, they must not be brought out every day.

Billy Whiskers, many of you remember, was a very remarkable goat, larger and stronger than others, with a beautiful white coat that when cleaned and well combed was the color of ivory and shone like silk. His horns, too, always attracted attention, they were so long and shiny. He could run faster, jump higher and butt harder than any goat he ever met in all his travels, so that wherever Billy went he very soon became a leader, though he often had to fight before the other goats found out that they had far better mind than take the consequences of disobedience.

He was saved from being a bully, conceited and cruel, by a kind heart and sunny disposition. As soon as he succeeded in establishing his right to leadership, instead of abusing his power by taking the best of everything for himself, he would protect and help the weak, kindly look after the little kids and always see that the old goats were fed before he ate himself.

It was a sorry day for any dog who bothered the flock when Billy Whiskers was around. Many a one went howling home after Billy got through with him. Small boys, too, learned that it was safer and better not to throw stones in his direction. Probably there are as many as twenty of them who have had the awful feeling that comes of trying to run fast enough to get away from the biggest goat that almost anybody ever saw, knowing that he was losing ground every second, hearing plainer and plainer every jump of his pursuer, and the last dreadful moment just before the shock came, and then flying through the air as though fired out of a gun, believing his end had surely come. But it never did. Billy Whiskers looked out for that and so timed his attacks that he could land his victim in a soft place, though he did not in the least mind if it happened to be a mud puddle.

One day he tossed a particularly mean boy right on top of a hedge where he staid until his yells attracted the attention of the hired man ploughing in a near-by field who made no haste, Billy noticed, to pull him out of his prickly nest.

You must not suppose from this description that Billy Whiskers was a model of good behavior for he certainly was not that. When he was hungry, he would eat whatever he could get hold of, whether it was intended for him or not. He preferred a lettuce bed or garden generally but did not draw the line at eating clothes hung out on the line to dry, or going into a pantry, no matter whose, and helping himself to everything in sight.

Of course, tricks of this kind got Billy Whiskers into serious trouble more than once, but he never said much about it and the animals at Cloverleaf Farm either didn’t know or wouldn’t believe such stories of their Billy even if they had leaked out and been whispered around.

Ever since he had been living at Cloverleaf Farm, which is near Farmersville or “The Corners,” as the place was more generally called, Billy had behaved himself, had stopped stealing things to eat, had quit fighting, which it must be confessed he dearly loved, and in less than a year had established himself on the friendliest footing not only with his master and mistress and all the children, but likewise with the black cat, the dog, the colt and his mother, as well as the other horses, the cows and calves and even Big Red, the bull, said to be very fierce, also the flock of sheep with Old Buck for leader.

As was stated at first, Billy Whiskers had found life so pleasant of late that he had fully made up his mind to stay where he was as long as he lived. The work he had to do was much to his liking. It consisted mainly in pulling little Dick around the place in his express wagon when Tom or Harry usually did the driving. Now and then the drivers would want to ride, sometimes both of them, when the load would be pretty heavy and more than once, at such times, Billy was tempted to run away as he used to do in his earlier years, upset his load and smash the wagon all to flinders; but he stoutly resisted these promptings of rebellion, knowing well by long experience that it is with goats as it is with boys and girls better to take things as they come; that it is the hard work now and then, the giving up to others and readiness to do one’s share of whatever comes along that tells whether he is made of the right kind of stuff.

So things were moving smoothly with Billy Whiskers and he had no thought of not spending the rest of his life with the Treat family, when one June day he heard Tom Treat ask Jack Wright, his playmate and chum, if he were going to the Circus that was coming to Springfield the next week. Jack said that he had not heard about it. Tom, who had just returned from The Corners where he had gone on an errand for his mother, then told him about the show bills that some men were putting up on the sides of the post office and blacksmith’s shop. He said that he had waited so long to see them all that he had forgotten all about his errand—he called it his “old errand”—that his mother was waiting for the baking powder and that he had caught “hail Columbia” when he finally got home.

Jack said that was nothing, it did not hurt when a fellow was used to it as he was, and that if he had been in Tom’s place he wouldn’t be home yet.

From this you can see what sort of a boy Jack was.

Billy Whiskers, who was standing near by at the time, smiled to himself for only the day before he had both seen and heard Jack Wright, who was now talking so bravely, spanked for going in swimming after his mother had told him he mustn’t because the water was too cold and likely to make him sick. Jack hadn’t acted then as though it didn’t hurt. In fact, it had hurt so much and made him so mad that he had almost decided to run away from home and join the gipsies who were then camping at the river not far away.

But he hadn’t gone after all and was now waiting for his friend Tom to tell him more about the Circus. It made him almost sick when he thought that very likely his mother might, as further punishment for his disobedience, not only not let him go to the big Show but put him to catching potato bugs instead. “If she does,” thought wicked Jack, “I certainly will run away and never come back.” He got some consolation out of imagining how much they would miss him.

While he was planning this revenge, Tom was talking as fast as he could and his stories were all the time getting bigger and bigger. By that time he said that the elephant was as big as the corn barn, that the giraffe was as tall as the old oak, that the boa-constrictor could swallow Jeff, the hired man—he wished in his heart he would, for Jeff had told his father that Tom had made a mighty poor job of hoeing corn the day before—that there were bears and tigers, lions and hyenas, wolves and wild-cats, ostriches and eagles, and everything else. He then began to talk about clowns and beautiful lady horseback riders, Arabian steeds and the wonderful doings of the trapeze performers.

All the time Billy Whiskers was listening with might and main. He had never in all his eventful life been to a circus, didn’t know what it was, hadn’t even heard of such a thing before.

The stories Tom Treat was telling Jack Wright excited him and the first he knew he had forgotten all about his resolve to never run away again and had fully made up his mind that come what might and cost what it would, he, Billy Whiskers, goat, would attend the Circus at Springfield.

CHAPTER II
MAKING PREPARATIONS

BILLY WHISKERS had more than a week in which to make his preparations to go to the Circus. The morning after he had heard Tom Treat, his young master, telling Jack Wright about it, he almost decided to give up going.

In the first place he didn’t know what might happen to him, and more than once the thought entered his mind that he would be running into all sorts of danger. You see that Billy was no greenhorn. He had knocked about a great deal and had been in some awful tight places. There had even been times when it looked as though he must pay for some of his escapades with his very life. Those of you who have known him before this remember his adventures in the Rocky Mountains and in Old Mexico, and how he was once lost overboard in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Well, all of these things tended to make him cautious, so that while he had been quick to make up his mind to see for himself this wonderful Circus, he did not finally start on the trip until he had thought it all over very carefully and counted, as he supposed, the cost. Whether he had or not we shall see as we go on.

As the first step in making ready, he decided to ask his animal friends at Cloverleaf Farm to tell him all they knew about circuses, for, thought he, certainly some of them must know and can just as well give me pointers as not. He did not propose to tell anyone, however, not even his best friend, Rex, the colt, what his plans were.

With this scheme in mind, he first approached Abbie, the black cat. Her real name was Abagail, and while the boys called her Ab for short, sister Emma and Billy Whiskers always addressed her as Abbie, “for,” said Billy, “it isn’t so hard a name to pronounce as Abagail and sounds very much more friendly than just Ab.” He knew that it was well worth his while to be on good terms with her.

“Abbie,” he said, when he found her napping the next morning on the mat before the front door, “what’s a circus?”

She didn’t move though she heard every word that Billy said. The truth is she had been very restless the night before and didn’t want to be disturbed in her morning snooze. More than that, she had no idea what a circus was and didn’t want to let Billy Whiskers see that she couldn’t answer his question if it could be helped. Cats, you remember, have been considered very knowing creatures ever since the days of the Pharaohs in Egypt, and Abbie was very proud of her race and its reputation and didn’t propose to lessen it. So she lay perfectly still when Billy asked her about the circus.

He repeated the question in a louder tone. Still there was no reply. If his mind had not been so taken up with the matter, Billy would have known that there was something wrong and gone elsewhere with his question. But he did not stop to think, he was so bent and determined on finding out about circuses. So he next, with more force than he probably intended to use, poked Abbie in the side with his left horn. Then there was a fuss. She jumped up as though she had suddenly found herself sleeping on a bumblebee’s nest, and the first Billy knew she was looking at him for all the world as he had seen her look one day at a strange dog which had chased her into a corner where further flight was no longer possible and she had turned to fight him off if necessary. Billy Whiskers had appeared on the scene then just in time to rescue her, but Abbie had now forgotten all about that debt of gratitude.

There she stood with her front and hind feet close together, her back all humped up, her fur sticking out so that she looked twice as big as usual, her tail all swelled up and jerking nervously, while her eyes looked, as Billy said afterward, as green as old Croaker’s back. (Old Croaker was the big frog in the pond behind the great barn.)

“Why, Abbie,” exclaimed Billy, “it’s me, your old friend. Don’t look like that! I only want to ask you what’s a circus.”

Then he got a piece of Abbie’s mind.

“Billy Whiskers, you are no gentleman. If you were, you wouldn’t be around here disturbing my rest. You know that I am half dead with neuralgia and that the only sound sleep I get is when the sun shines on my right side. Now you be off, and if you ever cut up like this again, you’ll get a scratching that you can’t forget to the last day of your life.”

She would probably have kept right on scolding for a long time, but as soon as Billy Whiskers realized what he had done, he turned and trotted off without even trying to apologize.

“She probably don’t know what a circus is and takes that way to conceal her ignorance. I’ll never believe in cats again,” thought Billy.

“There,” said Abbie, when Billy disappeared around the corner of the house, “he’s gone and I’m glad of it. He thinks that I know all about circuses but wouldn’t tell him because I was cross at being disturbed. Wasn’t that a good one about my neuralgia!” and Abbie laughed as cats do, and washed her face.

Billy next asked his best friend and greatest chum, Rex, the colt; but Rex, who was quite young, owned up at once that he didn’t know.

“Billy Whiskers,” said he, “how can I be expected to know about such things when you don’t? You have been almost everywhere and I always thought you had seen everything. If you don’t know what a circus is, there is no one at Cloverleaf Farm who can tell you.”

Some people would have been discouraged by this time, but not so Billy Whiskers.

“I’ll have to ask old Polly Parrot and I don’t want to one bit. She will probably laugh at me, and it is quite as likely as not she may suspect my plan and in that case she will blab it all over Cloverleaf and I’ll find myself shut up and closely guarded by Tom and Harry. While I don’t like Polly Parrot any too well, I must admit that she is as sharp as tacks and if I’m to get anything out of her I shall have to be very sly when I ask her about the matter.”

Billy was just saying these mean things to himself when he spied Miss Polly out in the grape arbor, swinging and chattering.

“Now is my time,” thought Billy.

“How do you do, Polly Parrot? Nice morning, isn’t it? You have no idea how fine you look with the sun shining on your beautiful feathers. I’ve always known that you are handsome but you certainly outshine yourself today.”

“That will fetch her,” thought Billy.

“What do you want now, Billy Whiskers? You can’t fool me by your soft talk. You are up to some mischief. What is it?”

Billy, without replying, beat a hasty retreat, thankful that he had not asked Polly Parrot outright about circuses.

“She is a suspicious old maid,” he said to himself, “and I can’t afford to fool with her.”

Billy then went to the stable to interview old Gyp, the horse that was said to have been in the Treat family for nearly thirty years.

“Billy Whiskers,” she said, hearing his question, “I wish I could tell you about circuses, but I can’t. My memory is no longer good. It seems to me that more than twenty years ago I heard a lot about a circus being in Springfield and a man by the name of Barnum who was connected with it, but I am not sure and it makes my head ache to try and recall the circumstances. I’m sorry I can’t help you, and I am afraid that you will not come to call on me soon again because I am so old and forgetful.”

“There, there, old Gyp, don’t worry any more about it. I am sorry I asked you the question. I know you would gladly tell me if you could and that’s kind of you, I am sure. Of course I am coming to see you every day. I make few calls that I enjoy so much.”

With this kind speech Billy left the old horse feeling sure that she had a good friend in him. It was by such little kindnesses as these that Billy made himself popular.

Billy felt pretty sure that the big Newfoundland dog, Bob, could tell him. Of late they had grown to be the greatest friends, though it had seemed for a number of months as if they must always remain enemies. Billy thought that Bob was jealous of him, and Bob thought Billy was conceited and vain. But after they had together saved little Dick Treat from drowning in the swimming hole down by the wood lot, they had the utmost respect for each other and were ever after the very best of friends.

“Bob,” said Billy, “what’s a circus?”

“I can’t tell much about it, Billy Whiskers. When I was living in the city, a circus came one day. There was immense excitement. I went early to see the parade. After long waiting, I heard someone say that the head of the procession was in sight and that the elephants were leading. I ran right out into the middle of the street to get a good look. One was enough. I turned and ran, never stopping until I was safe under the barn at my home. The head of that procession, the elephant, was the biggest, the most dangerous, the worst looking beast I ever laid my two eyes on. I hope, Billy, you may never see one for if you do, your rest will be broken for months you will have such dreadful nightmares.”

Bob fairly shivered as he recalled the elephant to mind.

Billy asked him no more questions for he saw that Bob had told him all he knew about the subject. He made up his mind that it would do no good to ask any more of his home friends about it, but then happened to think of his disreputable acquaintance, the old striped Coon who lived in the big chestnut tree down in the woods, so he went down to see him.

Mr. Coon was at home and a few knocks on the trunk of the tree with Billy’s horns brought him to the door.

“Hello, Billy Whiskers,” said the Coon. “What do you want? Don’t you know that this is my time for sleeping?”

Billy did know it for he was aware that Mr. Coon spent his nights, to a large extent at any rate, in robbing hen roosts. In fact, their first meeting had been late one evening when Billy had gone to the garden to select some choice lettuce heads for his own eating, a thing he wouldn’t have dared to do in the daylight. (This was before he had entirely reformed.) He was nibbling away at a great rate on the finest plant in the whole bed when he was startled not a little at seeing a strange thing creeping noiselessly along just inside the garden fence. It seemed to have fur and also feathers. Just as Billy decided that there was a spook after him and it was time for him to run for his life, the Coon, for he it was, dropped the white chicken he was carrying along in his mouth, and said:

“Good evening, Mr. Billy Whiskers. I have often seen you at a distance but have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before. It seems that you, like me, get your living at night. I think that we ought to be friends.”

Poor Billy, what could he say? He did not want to associate as a general thing with the Coon who was known to be a thief, but at the same time he did not see how he could snub him under the circumstances. So he replied politely to the Coon’s greeting, and ever since they had been more or less friendly, though Billy never told anyone at Cloverleaf Farm that he knew the highwayman and robber who lived in the old chestnut.

Billy now answered the Coon’s question by asking another.

“Mr. Coon, what’s a circus?”

He was never more surprised in his life than at the effect of his question on the tough and wicked old Coon, for no sooner had the word circus passed his lips than the Coon fainted dead away and dropped down in a limp heap with his head hanging out of the big knot hole which served as the door of his house. As Billy could not climb up the trunk of the tree to fan him or dash water in his face, there was nothing to do but wait for him to revive.

Pretty soon he began to show signs of returning life and finally pulled himself to his feet again. Billy was then not more astonished at what he said than at the awful expression on his horrified face.

“He looked,” as Billy said when he told the story years afterward, “as though he had seen forty ghosts with every last one of them after him.”

When the Coon began to speak, his voice was so cracked and squeaky that Billy wouldn’t have known that the bold old Coon was talking had he not seen his jaws wagging. This is what he said:

“William Whiskers, (he called him ‘William’) never mention that horrid name to me again. It wakes memories that I cannot endure. The very thought of them makes me faint and spoils my appetite for days. Years ago I was captured and sold to a circus and it was nine horrible months before I was able to escape. Ever since, the very thought of all I endured makes me weak and sick. Nights after eating too much, even of the tenderest chicken, I have the most awful nightmares when I see again those horrid monkeys who worried me until I was almost crazy. I hated them most of all. If the time ever comes when I catch a monkey alone, I’ll make mince-meat of him if it is the last thing I ever do. But the monkeys were not all. I can hear yet, in my dreams, the roars of the lions, the snarling tigers and wild-cats, can see the crowds of people and feel the canes that were shoved through the bars of my cage and punched into my ribs, and can hear and see that fool of a clown saying and doing the same silly things day after day. Oh, it was awful! It makes me faint to think of it.”

Billy thought he was going to keel over again, but he didn’t. Feebly waving his paw in farewell, he slowly withdrew from sight.

The story told by the old Coon made Billy very sober, and again he wondered if he had better not stay at home and take no risks, for he said to himself:

“What if the circus folks should take it into their heads to capture me and make me one of their attractions and I should have as bad a time as the old Coon? I’d wish then that I had stayed at home and minded my own business.”

After the day spent in fruitless inquiry, he went to bed saying that he would sleep over the matter and decide later what he had better do.

CHAPTER III
BILLY WHISKERS DECIDES

BILLY awakened from a troubled sleep with doubts and misgivings in his mind. If the day hadn’t been fine with everything and everybody looking bright and cheerful, the chances are that he would have then and there dismissed all thought of the Circus and spent the balance of his days in happy though humdrum existence at Cloverleaf Farm. In that case this story would never have been told.

It so happened that Mrs. Treat, the mother of Tom, Dick and Harry, wanted some things that morning, and so, after breakfast, told Tom, who was the eldest of the three, to wash his face and hands clean, put on his shoes and stockings, and make himself neat and tidy generally, for she wanted him to go to The Corners to “transact some business” for her.

What she really wanted was a spool of thread, a dozen clothes-pins, some blueing and two yards of cheese cloth—just common “errands” as everybody can see. But Mrs. Treat knew how to manage boys and she was alive to the fact that her son Thomas had rather “transact business” than “do errands.” Even so, he made it a condition of his cheerful going that Harry and Dick be allowed to accompany him, the latter in his new express wagon drawn by Billy Whiskers.

“You may all go,” said Mrs. Treat, “but be very careful, and don’t stay too long. Keep a close eye on Billy Whiskers. We all love Billy, and he is certainly the handsomest goat in the county, but you mustn’t forget that we are not as well acquainted with his early history as I wish we were. I have never been able to dismiss the feeling that there are things in his past that are not to his credit. So you want to watch out.”

The boys promised, though they did not for one minute believe that Billy Whiskers had not always been the friendly, quiet, peaceable goat that he now appeared. Mrs. Treat, however, was wiser and spoke truer than she knew, as this story will show a little later, though she need not have given herself any anxiety on the present occasion for little Dick and his new, red wagon. Dick was the dearest, brown-eyed little chap in the world and everybody loved him, Billy Whiskers included, who wouldn’t for anything have any harm or hurt come to his little master when under his care.

Although they had been through breakfast by seven o’clock, or a little later, it was nine before the Treat boys were ready to start to The Corners.

THE PROCESSION FINALLY MOVED OFF.

Billy looked very scrumptious in his silver-plated harness, newly polished, especially after he was hitched to the new wagon, marked in gilt letters on the sides “Overland Limited,” with Master Dick in the seat, reins in hand, but no whip for Billy Whiskers had early given them to understand that a whip was worse than useless where he was concerned.

The procession finally moved off with Tom on one side of Billy and Harry on the other.

“We’ll have to keep this up,” whispered Harry, “until we get out of mother’s sight, and then we can go as we please.” Harry was always called a “queer child.”

At The Corners Billy Whiskers saw for himself the wonderful bill posters that Tom had told Jack Wright about.

The boys spent as much time as they dared looking at them, which gave Billy a good chance to carefully examine the marvelous sights.

As all my readers know how circus billboards look and how much they make one want to go to the show, they will not be surprised that Billy Whiskers quite forgot the warning of old Mr. Coon and again decided that he must see for himself these wonderful animals and astonishing performances that the reading at the bottom said were but faintly portrayed by the pictures above.

When Billy reached home, having brought little Dick and his wagon safely through, he lay down to think over once more the Circus, the difficulties in the way and the fun it promised.

All of a sudden he bethought him of his old friend and fellow-traveller, Terrence Bull Pup, who, he now remembered, was living in Springfield where the Circus was to hold forth. Although Billy had not answered Terrence’s last letter, having made up his mind to cut loose from his reckless friends when he came to Cloverleaf to live, he nevertheless now decided to write to him, telling of his intention to come to the Circus and ask his advice about a place to stay.

“Of course,” thought Billy, “he’ll ask me to come and stop with him.”

So he wrote and sent in the animal fashion and language the following well-worded and friendly letter.

Cloverleaf Farm, June 10th, 1908.

Terrence Bull Pup, Esq.,
Maiden Lane, Springfield, Ohio.
My Dear Friend Terry:—

Although it has been a long time since you have heard from me, I am still your true friend and now welcome the prospect of renewing our old-time acquaintance with the utmost pleasure.

You will be glad to hear that I am well and happy, with a good home, plenty to eat and surrounded by many friends. I am no longer the sort of goat you used to know, having turned over a new leaf on coming here to live. I have given up fighting almost altogether, very rarely steal things to eat or rob pantries or clothes-lines now, do but little butting, and, in short, live a peaceable and respectable life, and try to be a good example to all my friends and neighbors. I never expected to do anything different but I am hearing so much about the Circus that is coming to Springfield, and the billboards that I saw at The Corners this forenoon make it appear so attractive that I have decided to take it in, and so write to you, my old friend, to ask if it will be quite convenient for you to have me for a guest at the time. I not only want to see you, but feel that your greater familiarity with the ways of the world at present will be of the greatest help to me in keeping out of danger and in seeing all the wonderful sights to best advantage.

I trust that this letter finds you well and as handsome as ever.

A prompt reply will be appreciated by

Faithfully your friend,
Billy Whiskers.

“That’s a good letter,” said Billy Whiskers, as he read it over before posting. “It will bring an invitation all right or I miss my guess. He can’t resist that reference to his good looks. Terry always was vain. As near as I can make out, he considers his pug nose very cute and attractive and those bow legs of his as models of grace.”

When Terrence Bull Pup received Billy Whiskers’ letter he was of two minds, both pleased and mad.

At first he was inclined to accept Billy’s words of friendship and flattery as the true expressions of his warm heart, and write him a reply with a cordial invitation to come to Springfield at once, stay for a few days and be his guest at the Circus.

On reading the letter a second time, it occurred to him that Billy Whiskers might be trying to make use of him and that all his soft remarks about true friendship and his good looks were just so much bait with which to catch what he wanted.

He remembered that in the old days Billy Whiskers was in the habit of thus working his friends, and he also recalled the fact that his last letter, in which he had suggested joining Billy in his new home at Cloverleaf Farm, had never been answered, a neglect on the part of Billy that cut deep and rankled whenever he thought of it.

More than that, Terrence did not like and had no sympathy with this talk about turning over a new leaf. Terrence Bull Pup knew well that HE had turned over no new leaves. In fact, if the truth must be told, he was now known all up and down Maiden Lane, the street on which he lived, as “the terror.”

“No,” he said, after looking at the matter from all sides, “I’ll not be taken in by sly old Billy this time. If he imagines he can fool me by his flattery and true friendship dodge he’ll find himself greatly mistaken. Anyhow, his letter gives me a chance to give him a piece of my mind straight, and I’ll just do it, too.”

So he wrote as follows:

Springfield, June 12th, 1908.

Dear Bill:

Your letter just received. I can’t say that I was very pleased to get it. If you had answered my last letter I might feel different.

Of course, if you come to the city to attend the Circus, I shan’t run you off when you knock at my door. But my advice to you is to keep away. You are altogether too good now to go to circuses, though I well remember the time when you were not good enough. This talk of yours about turning over new leaves don’t go with the writer of this letter one bit. I knew you too well of old, but even if you think you are better than you used to be, you had best take no chances of a relapse, but stay where you are, which is the advice of

Your one-time friend,
Terry B. P.

“Well,” said Billy, as he finished reading this letter, “if that ain’t the very worst! I must have rubbed his fur the wrong way. He always was the meanest dog I ever knew. This settles it—I’ll never associate with him again.”

While Billy talked big, he had a sneaking feeling all the time that for once Terrence Bull Pup had the best of him. His conscience was not altogether clear about not having answered his letter.

“At any rate,” he wound up, “I’ll go to that old Circus now if I never do another thing. I may have a chance to show that dog a trick or two yet. I’ll start day after tomorrow.”

CHAPTER IV
ON HIS WAY TO THE CIRCUS

IT was ten miles from Cloverleaf Farm to Springfield so Billy Whiskers decided to make an early start for he didn’t want to miss any of the sights by being late. More than that, he could get away much easier before the family were up when it would be necessary to make all kinds of excuses and tell all sorts of fibs, and even then it was as likely as not that the boys would decide that it would be safer for him to be locked up all day, which would make no end of difficulty and delay, even if he finally succeeded in breaking out and making his escape.

The evening before he went around calling on all his friends. While he did not actually bid them good-bye, it was afterward remarked that he had seemed unusually kind and subdued. Polly Parrot, talking it over with the Plymouth Rock family, said that she felt sure all the time that there was something up, but she had never hoped for any such good luck as his clearing out. At which heartless speech the Plymouth Rocks were greatly scandalized, and they told Polly, all talking together, that she ought to be ashamed of herself and that they did not care to associate with her any more until she was ready to take back what she had said and apologize.

“Uh,” said Polly, “Apologize nothing! He’ll be back all too soon. You’ll see,” and she laughed like a crazy person.

It seems that she had overheard Billy Whiskers call her a mean old maid a few days before and had not yet either forgotten or forgiven that slight.

All the animals at Cloverleaf, except Polly Parrot, were deeply grieved when it was learned on Circus day morning that Billy Whiskers was nowhere to be found.

There were all sorts of guesses as to what had become of him.

Tom and Harry, remembering how interested he had been in the billboards at The Corners, at once suspected the truth, and nothing must do but that their father must take them to Springfield that they might look for missing Billy.

Mr. Treat, who had been trying to find some good excuse for going, agreed with the boys very much more readily than they had expected and told them to be ready to start by eight o’clock so as not to miss the parade.

Mrs. Treat, who had said over and over again that Springfield was too far away for any of them to think of going, when she learned what preparations were afoot, at once decided that it would not be safe for them to go without her, and if she went little Dick would have to go too. So at the appointed time they all started.

Billy Whiskers, though he never intended it, was therefore responsible for his little masters seeing a circus for the first time in their lives, and he was glad at having been able to do them that great favor when, in the end, it all came out well.

In the meanwhile Billy, who had started a little after four o’clock in the morning, was on his way to Springfield, following the road which he learned by previous inquiry was the shortest and most direct.

His mind was not entirely at peace for it troubled his conscience to have thus unceremoniously left behind him the home and friends where and by whom he had, on the whole, been treated most kindly; and while it was his good intention to return the following day at latest, there was an uneasy feeling in his bones that it might be a long time before he should see Cloverleaf Farm again, but these sad thoughts and gloomy forebodings were soon outweighed by the excitement of the journey and the anticipation of the pleasures in store.

He had gone probably four miles before anything out of the common occurred to disturb his serenity or interfere with his peaceful progress.

It is altogether likely that he might have gone on and reached Springfield by eight o’clock at latest, in ample time to see not only the great parade but some of the show cars unload as well, had he not turned aside to snip a few heads of delicious looking cabbage which he chanced to spy in a garden at the side of a house he was passing. Cabbage, you know, is regarded about the finest of all vegetables by goats, and in this respect Billy Whiskers was no exception to the rest of his tribe.

So when he saw the beautiful green leaves sparkling with the dew of the early morning, the temptation was more than he could resist.

He was eating away at a great rate, having, as he afterward declared, the time of his life, when, without warning sound, he was startled nearly out of his wits by the feel of heavy hands suddenly laying hold of his horns. A voice that sounded to him like the crack of doom, (that is what he called it when he told the story to his grandchildren many years later) called out:—

“I’ve got you this time, my beauty, and I’ll be blest if I don’t keep you! You’ll pay well for stealing in my garden. Come here, Lige, and help me lock this goat in the barn. He’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen and I can’t handle him alone. Hurry up! He’s getting ugly.”

Billy was certainly becoming as ugly as he could under the circumstances, but there was very little chance for him to use his great strength, and as for butting his captor, Farmer Grant, none at all, for he had both Billy’s horns in his powerful hands and was rubbing his nose in the cabbage or dirt, wherever it happened to strike, with no let-up. With the aid of the hired man called Lige, Billy was finally pushed and pulled inside the big barn door, which was quickly shut and securely locked.

Even then Billy would have made things lively but his horns were still held in that horrible grip, and not until a stout strap was buckled about his neck and he was tied by a strong rope to a wagon wheel did the farmer let go, jumping out of harm’s way at the same instant, for he already felt no little respect for those long sharp horns and Billy’s strong neck.

“We’ll leave him for the day, and by the time we are back from the Circus he will be so hungry that we can manage him without risking our lives. He is certainly the biggest and handsomest goat I ever saw. I wonder where he comes from. You don’t suppose, Lige, that he belongs to the show and has run away? At any rate, he is mine now and anybody who gets him will have to pay well.”

Farmer Grant talked on at a great rate as he and Lige were hitching the span of handsome bay colts to the family surrey preparatory to going to Springfield for the day. They then went into the house for breakfast, and at eight o’clock the whole family had started.

Billy, in the meantime, had been resting and laying his plans. As soon as he saw that he was fastened by a rope instead of a chain he began to be hopeful and his spirits rose, though he greatly regretted the loss of time.

He commenced chewing away at his tether before the Grant family had driven out of the front gate and never stopped until the rope fell apart. This took fully half an hour. While he was doing this, you can imagine his surprise and guilty fear at seeing through a crack in the side of the barn the whole Treat family driving by. He hadn’t expected that they were going to the Circus—hadn’t wanted them to, in fact, for he knew that he would have to keep dodging them if they were there, and he more than suspected that there would be excitement quite enough without this added anxiety.

But since they were to be present, he was glad that he had seen them for he would now be on his guard. After cutting the rope that held him with his sharp teeth, the next thing was to get out of the barn. This was no easy matter, and Billy had about decided that it would be necessary to butt right through the side of it when he discovered a small door fastened on the inside by a wooden latch. By raising the latch with one horn he was able to release and so open the door.

After getting out, he first thought that he would pay off Farmer Grant for all the mean things he had done to him, but just as he was about to begin with spoiling his garden, he heard the clock in the house begin to strike and so stopped to count.

“Ten o’clock,” said he, “and six miles to go. I haven’t time now to do a good job, so I’ll wait until I come back and then I’ll fix him or my name is no longer Billy Whiskers.”

Poor Billy, little he knew what was in store for him!

He soon found that he could no longer travel in the road. There were too many people constantly passing, all going toward Springfield, doubtless to attend the Circus. Almost everybody either called to him, passed comments on his appearance, or wondered where so fine a goat could be going all by himself.

“This is bad enough,” thought Billy, “but it will be worse if somebody overtakes me who knows who I am. As like as not he would try to capture me and then my fun would be spoiled. No, the only thing now to do is to take to the fields. I’ll get there some way but it is harder work than I ever thought.”

He soon found a place where the bars were down, and turned aside into the fields.

Following along as near to the road as he dared, he made pretty fair progress. Presently he heard whistles begin to blow, and coming to the top of the hill he was climbing, looked down on the other side to find the busy little city of Springfield spread out before him.

“It must be noon,” commented Billy, “that’s why the whistles are blowing. It will keep me busy to get to the show by the time the performances begin. The bills said one o’clock sharp. Way off there to the south is the big tent. My, ain’t it a whopper! I don’t know how I shall ever get in, but I must manage it somehow, and I’m glad I’ve come. If only Terrence Bull Pup hadn’t been so snippy, I would have had no trouble and might have seen the whole thing. As it is, I’ve missed the parade. I wish now that I hadn’t stopped to eat that cabbage.

“I hope I see Terrence. If I do, he’ll soon find I am not so good yet as to pass over his slights without notice. I can just feel myself giving him such a butting as he has never had before.”

All this time Billy was trotting down the long hill that leads into Springfield from the west. The houses were becoming thicker and difficulties in going cross-lots increasing. He shortly found it necessary to take to the open streets. But there were so many people, and so much excitement and confusion that Billy was a little out of patience to find that no attention was paid to him.

Even the boys, who had generally made him trouble in the old days, now let him alone.

They were on their way home from seeing the parade where there had been elephants, and camels, and bears, and lions and tigers on view. What was a goat, even as big and proud and handsome as Billy Whiskers, to sights like these?

Besides all that, most of them were going back to see the performance as soon as they had had their dinners. No, they had no time for goats now!

Little they guessed how much of that day’s excitement and fun would be due to the great goat they were meeting so carelessly in the street. If they had, you may be sure they would have looked at him twice.

At length Billy Whiskers found himself before the great tent. People were beginning to crowd in. There were hundreds and thousands of them. The day was hot and the dust stifling. There was an awful racket and Billy had all he could do to keep from being trodden under foot.

As he waited, he wondered what he was to do next and almost wished that he was safely with his dear friends at Cloverleaf Farm. Finally he made up his mind that as there was no one likely to offer him a ticket, the only way for him to get inside was to go. So he made a rush for it right through the opening in the side of the tent, past the ticket takers, who made a grab at him.

“Never touched me!” shouted Billy. Then he raised his head to find himself surrounded by such sights as he had never even dreamed of.

CHAPTER V
GOING THE ROUNDS

“MY stars!” said Billy, as he cast a frightened look around, “I don’t wonder now that my friend Bob ran for his life and hid under the barn when he saw animals like these coming toward him. I’d run too if I could, but I can’t now. If all these people feel safe and can have a good time, I guess I can take care of myself.”

Having in a great measure collected his wits by this time, and his heart no longer beating so that he could scarcely breathe, the result of the excitement of rushing past the ticket takers, he made a more careful survey of his surroundings and quickly decided on his course of action.

He saw that he was in the section of the great tent devoted to the wild animals and freaks. As all readers know just how the cages are placed around the sides of the tent, with the elephants and camels in the middle; and how the human skeleton, the fat lady, bearded woman, hairy man, dwarf, giant and such like freaks are seated on a raised and rickety platform not far from the elephants, we will not stop to describe the scene that now presented itself to Billy Whiskers’ wondering gaze. It looked grand to him and he was just as excited as boys and girls are when they find themselves inside the great tent with all its wonders spread out before them.

“I’ll first call on the animals and make friends with those that look pleasant and answer good-naturedly the few questions which I want to ask,” thought Billy. “Then I will go in and see the Circus that the billboards at The Corners had so much to say about, and especially the clown who makes Tom and Harry Treat laugh so that they can never mention him without almost splitting themselves. I didn’t like all the things they said about him. If he makes those poor horses race too fast and strikes people with that board of his that cracks so, I shall be tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine. I am not so meek yet, in spite of what Terrence Bull Pup is pleased to say, that I can stand it to see horses abused or innocent actors hurt by an outlandish looking clown.”

What really happened to the clown, owing to Billy, we shall hear a little later.

So with only the thought to bother him that some member of the Treat family might spy him and take him out for safe-keeping before he had seen all the sights, Billy started right in at the cage nearest to hand. As for the Treats, he knew that there was nothing to do but take his chances and that they were pretty good considering the great size of the tent and the thousands of people in it.

As he approached the cage in question, a big one, he discovered that it contained six or eight animals about the size of his friend Bob, the dog at Cloverleaf, though not nearly so pleasant to look at.

“Indeed,” thought Billy to himself, “I’m glad that crowd are where they can’t get at me. I don’t like their looks. I’ll just see who they are and pass along.”

This was easier said than done for every one of the group of prisoners was restlessly pacing up and down, evidently looking for some way to get out.

It was a minute or two before Billy was able to catch the eye of one of them for they seemed to never look at anyone, afraid to, in fact. At length the largest, who seemed bolder than the rest, caught sight of Billy Whiskers and was so surprised that he stopped short to take another look. As this was the chance Billy had been waiting for, he quickly improved it.

“How are you?” said he. “Do you mind telling me the name of your interesting and lively family? I am a stranger here and want to learn all I can. As you see, I am an animal myself and have none but the friendliest feeling for all our race.”

This polite speech won for Billy an answer, as he felt sure it would.

“How do I do?” snapped the caged beast. “I’m most unhappy. We are wolves. I, myself, came from the boundless steppes of faraway Russia where I and my people for hundreds of years, have been wont to roam wild and free and far. We are all robbers and live by plundering farmers. When quite young, I grew so bold that I was finally captured alive while eating a sheep I had killed. After endless travels over land and sea, I arrived in a dreadful place called New York, and was shortly sold to this show and put into a cage with these other wretches and ever since we have been a spectacle to crowds of people day after day. I have no words with which to tell you, sir goat, how we hate this life.”

The snarl with which he said these last words was so fierce that it made Billy fairly shiver.

Without waiting for a reply, the big wolf went on:

“My companions are no less unhappy than I am, though there is little in common between us as we have been collected from all over. There is no quarter of the globe in which branches of our family do not exist. We never stop trying to find a way to get out, and if we ever do, we will make some of these cruel people who have come here to look at us with never a thought of pity for our forlorn condition, wish they had stayed at home. There is that little rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed boy with his mother. He’s about three years old, I guess, just the right age to be tender eating. How I’d like to get my jaws into his throat!”

The old wolf smiled wickedly as he said it.

Billy looked to see whom he meant, and to his horror saw his own little Dick holding fast to his mother’s hand. They had passed within a few feet of Billy, but had not seen him. He was thankful for that because he felt that he could never look a member of the Treat family in the face again if he had been caught hobnobbing with the great Russian wolf, especially if it ever leaked out what the wolf had said.

Billy’s nerves were so shaken and he felt so sick after hearing the dreadful threats the wolf had made that he crept between the wheels under the cage and lay down behind the wooden side of the cage which was banked against the far wheels. Here he had time to recover his composure in peace and pull himself together.

It was not long, of course, before Billy felt well enough to go on.

Strange to tell, the more he thought of the old wolf’s story, the less he blamed him for being so savage. He realized that in picking out little Dick as the one on whom he would like to wreak his vengeance, he had not known that he was Billy’s dearest friend and that Billy had once risked his own life to save him from drowning in the old swimming hole, and was more than willing to do so again if the necessity ever arose. Finally Billy owned to himself if he had been treated as the wolf had been, captured, taken far from home, penned up in a narrow cage to be looked at by thousands of people day after day, year in and year out, with not the faintest hope or chance of escape, he would feel the same way. The very thought of such a fate made him quake and wish he had stayed at home.

Billy crept out of his hiding-place and slipped quietly past the next three or four cages without stopping to ask any questions, fearing that the wolves would see him and make an uproar trying to call him back to hear more of their sad story and to persuade him to find some means for their escape. Billy was always tender-hearted when it came to the cases of those in trouble and suffering, and he knew it would hurt his feelings to be obliged to disappoint even that pack of wolves, thieves and robbers though he knew them to be.

By just glancing sidewise at the cages he thus passed and observing the labels on each he was able to learn the names of the animals he felt obliged to skip. They were the North American panther or mountain lion, red deer, wild boar, and hyenas. The last were such ugly, awkward, unclean and altogether terrifying looking beasts that Billy did not mind not making their personal acquaintance, though he would have liked to exchange greetings with the beautiful, mild-looking, gentle-acting deer; and to have put a question or two to the mountain lion about his diet. He was crouched in one corner of his cage and looked for all the world as though he were ready to spring upon some victim.

The cage before which Billy now stopped was marked in big gilt letters:

AFRICAN LION, KING OF BEASTS.

Somehow this did not please Billy Whiskers. Though he would not have admitted it, down deep in his heart he thought that he himself was probably the king of beasts, and it did not suit him to see that another was thus publicly given this proud title.

“I’ll stop and see what he looks like,” thought Billy. “I don’t believe he is so much after all. If I get the chance I’ll make him feel small enough.”

All this time Billy had not been able to see the lion on account of the crowd of people before his cage. At last he squeezed to the front row and took his first look. That alone would have been quite enough to convince Billy that he was justly entitled to be called king of beasts, but other proof was not lacking, for as soon as the great, shaggy-headed lion saw a goat was gazing at him he was so surprised that he let out a terrific roar.

Even the people were startled and shrank back. As for Billy, he would certainly have keeled over in a fit of fright had not the legs of the on-lookers crowded against his sides so tight that he was held up in spite of himself. His giddiness passed away in a minute or two, but came near overcoming him a second time when he perceived that the great lion was addressing his remarks to him.

In telling the story afterward, Billy could never remember exactly what was said, he was so rattled at the time.

In spite of the lion’s great voice and savage appearance, Billy was surprised to find that his remarks were not unkind so far as he was personally concerned, but perfectly shocking about his captivity, the sort of life he was obliged to live, the dead meat he had to eat, the people who looked at him and never once remembered the suffering he daily endured.

“Little goat,” roared the lion, “I wish I could change places with you. Though I am called king of beasts, I would gladly give the title and all that goes with it to any free member of the animal kingdom, little or big, who will exchange his freedom with my captivity. I came from over the sea. My home is in the wild African desert where for ages my ancestors have reigned supreme. Boundless was our kingdom and no one there dared to oppose our will. My food I got by strength, and stealth, and cunning. Like all my race, I scorned to eat that which any other had killed. All went well with me and mine until a strange terror crept over the length and breadth of our wide domain. I heard the story, and laughed, when I heard it, that black men from the coast country were coming to the desert to capture the lions, that they had been bidden to do this by the king of the Belgians who in some way had cast an evil spell over them so that they had no choice but to obey his will, that if they failed of success they were tortured, maimed and even put to death. It was said that we lions were valuable and could be sold for much gold and that was why we were wanted.

“But why do I tell you, little goat, all this sad story? Because I can see that while you are as afraid as death of me, you are still sorry for me and sympathize with me in my awful sufferings.

“When about a year old, large and strong for my age, I was caught in one of the cunning traps set for us. Though my case was a hopeless one from the first, when the black men came to take me, I fought as I had never fought before. Two of my captors fell, never to rise again. With a stroke of my paw I had crushed the skull of each. Others of them were frightfully mangled and wounded. But it was all of no use. I was brought to America, sold to this show, and here I have been ever since.”

The other things he said Billy Whiskers would never try even to repeat. They were too dreadful. His one hope seemed to be that he might some day break out of his cage when a great crowd of people were before it, spring upon them and kill right and left until he should feel that he had paid off the score of all his wrongs and sufferings.

Billy tried to comfort the lion for he was truly sorry for him. He realized what a magnificent beast he was and what a wretched life it must be shut up all the time in one little cage. He told him, however, that it would be wrong for him to visit his wrath on the innocent people who came to admire him if he ever succeeded in breaking out, but that he would be justified in dealing with the wicked king of the Belgians as he saw fit if he were ever able to get his claws on him.

Billy then sadly said farewell, for although all this conversation had taken place in the animal language in much less time than it takes to tell it, he now felt that he must hasten on as there was still much to see and hear.

Turning about, Billy discovered that the cage of the big African lion was just opposite the place, near the centre of the tent, where the elephants were stationed. So Billy went to look at them, hoping for more cheerful things than the stories of the wolf and lion.

What he found the next chapter will tell.

CHAPTER VI
THE ELEPHANT’S TRUNK

THERE was even a larger crowd standing around the elephants than in front of the lions’ cage. It took Billy a minute or two to wiggle his way through. While he was doing this as quietly and gently as he could, for you can well believe that he was on his good behavior, a little thing happened that came near upsetting all his calculations and bringing to an untimely end the adventures of this red letter day at the Circus.

Without in the least intending it, he brushed against the skirts of a young lady who with her best beau was taking in the sights. She glanced down to see what the trouble was and, of course, discovered our Billy. Not knowing him and being very much excited anyway, she jumped to the conclusion that one of the wild beasts had escaped and that she was about to be eaten alive. But instead of running as you or I would have done, she shut her eyes and gave a little squeal and then tumbled over.

Billy knew that no serious harm had been done and so, instead of stopping to lend a helping hand, he took advantage of the commotion to forge ahead and very soon found himself standing close to the head of the biggest of all the elephants.

Some of my readers know how funny it feels to be right close up to one of these great beasts. Billy felt the same way, only more so. He didn’t dare to move for fear of attracting attention. The thought passed through his mind that, big as he was, he would not make more than five or six bites for the monster. He remembered again the story that Bob had told him of the way he ran and hid when he saw the elephant marching toward him. He no longer despised Bob for this and only wished he could do the same thing.

But bye and bye, as nothing seemed to happen, he began to feel better and to take notice. Then it was that he first discovered the elephant’s great trunk.

“I declare,” said Billy to himself, “that must be his hitching strap, and he is loose too, I believe that I will hold on to it till his keeper comes. That will make me all solid with him. There is nothing like standing in with the management. Perhaps he will give me something to eat for I am getting awfully hungry. I hadn’t thought of it before but I am. There has been so much going on all day that I have quite neglected my health. I’ll be sick tomorrow when I get home if I am not careful, and then Polly Parrot, as likely as not, will spread the story all over Cloverleaf Farm that I have been off on a spree. She is mean enough to do anything, that bird is!”

By this time Billy had advanced to the place where the end of the elephant’s trunk was dragging on the ground and quick as scat he had planted his two feet on it.

Poor Billy, he little knew what that bit of mistaken kindness was to cost him.

To his utter amazement and horror the supposed hitching strap began to curl up and before he knew what was happening, the big elephant had him tight around the waist and he was sailing up through the air. He had just time to think that he would be dashed to pieces the next second when he found himself planted firmly and securely right in the middle of the great elephant’s back.

What a shout went up! How the boys and girls laughed! How the people came rushing that way!

In the midst of all the excitement and din, Billy heard first of all, and it seemed to him louder than all, Tom Treat, who yelled at the top of his voice:

“Look, Harry, it’s Billy Whiskers!”

“Holy smoke!” was all Harry could say in reply, he was so astonished.

Though he was greatly confused and didn’t yet know where he was or what had really happened, Billy’s first thought was that he must get out of sight quick or that he would be a goner. He looked about and saw that he was not far from the platform where all the freaks were, and that it was the only place he could jump and not light right on top of some of the people.

“It’s the biggest jump I’ve ever tried but I have got to do it now and trust to luck. If I once get to that platform, I can scoot to the other side of it, drop down behind and hide till all the hubbub blows over. Here goes!”

With that he suddenly pulled himself together in a sort of a bunch and shot straight out into the air right over the heads of a lot of astonished people. Tom Treat, when telling his chum, Jack Wright, about it next day, said that Billy could not have gone further or faster if he had been fired out of a gun.

Billy imagined that if he were able to reach the platform his troubles would all be over, but in this he was sadly mistaken.

When the freaks, the human skeleton, the hairy man from Borneo, the giant, the dwarf, the fat lady and all the rest discovered Billy on the elephant, they laughed fit to kill and clapped their hands, but when they saw him coming right at them through the air like a cannon ball, they were scared enough. The fat lady, who thought that he must surely hit her, tried to get out of the way all of a sudden. Of course she could hardly move when she wasn’t excited. In trying to be quick about it now, she only succeeded in upsetting her chair and tumbling over backwards. Down she went right through the floor of the flimsy old platform, nearly scraping her sides off. Her sudden upset made all the boards of the floor fly up, throwing the rest of the freaks every which way, all more or less in a heap.

On top of them all landed Billy Whiskers. Of course he wasn’t hurt, and, as good luck would have it, none of the others were, not even the fat lady seriously, though she had hysterics and cried and laughed by turns and threw her fat arms, which looked like bologna sausages, wildly about and kept calling on the giant to protect her. This was after Billy Whiskers, the unwilling cause of all the commotion, had pulled himself safely out of the wreck and had hidden completely out of sight in a big empty box which he had luckily found on the other side, and quite near the scene of the great catastrophe.

“I’ll slip in here and wait till things quiet down a bit,” thought Billy. “If I try to get out now the whole crowd will be after me. Where there is so much excitement and so many things to see, a little commotion like this doesn’t last long.”

It was while he was waiting for things to subside that he saw and heard the queer antics of the fat lady after they had pulled her out of the hole she had made in the platform. It seemed to the watching and listening Billy that she was more mad than hurt.

“Where is that horrid goat?” she screamed. “I want to sit down on him just once for luck. I’ll teach him to jump at folks like that! There won’t be a grease spot left when I get through with him. Why don’t some of you bring him to me?”

Then she began to laugh and cry and toss her fat arms about. All of a sudden she stopped short.

“Come to me, Don Orsino,” she said to the giant. “I’m going to faint and you must hold me.”

Billy never could believe that he heard correctly what the big giant replied, but it sounded to him as though he told her to shut up and not be a fool, and that she looked like the old scratch and that she had better look out or she’d lose her job.

Billy was so indignant that any lady should be treated in such a manner that he came very near rushing out of his hiding-place and going for the giant, big as he was, with fire in his eye and head down.

“One punch, if he didn’t see me coming, would knock him off his perch and teach him some manners. I’ll try it.”

But just then Billy remembered what the fat lady had said about sitting down on him, and how there wouldn’t be a grease spot left when she did, and so he thought better of his rash resolve to go to her rescue.

It is fortunate for both him and us that he reconsidered for had he not, this story would have come to a sudden and very flat ending.

Billy, safely stowed away in the big pine box, had time to think matters over and lay a few plans. Presently he began to laugh to himself the way the elephant had fixed him.

“The very idea of calling that long thing, which I now know must be his nose, a hitching strap,” whispered Billy to himself. “It’s enough to make a dog laugh.”

You see that Billy did not even yet know that it was the elephant’s trunk, but called it his nose.

“I wish the Treat boys hadn’t been there,” Billy went on. “They will tell everybody at Cloverleaf Farm how it all happened and Polly Parrot at least will never be through laughing at it.”

Billy needn’t have worried over this for it was many a day before he was to see his friends at Cloverleaf Farm again, and when he finally returned they were all so glad to see him that nobody, not even Polly Parrot, for a long time thought of making fun of him.

But I am getting away ahead of my story. There are many adventures to relate before the memorable home-coming was brought to pass.

CHAPTER VII
BILLY IN DANGER

FROM his hiding-place in the big box, Billy could look into the section of the tent where the performances were now going on, could see the clown in his outlandish dress, hear the shouts of laughter that followed his remarks, observe the bare-back riding, and watch the trapeze performers.

He had just about made up his mind that it was safe for him to start out again when he overheard some talking near at hand that caused him not only to pause, but to shrink into the smallest space he could in the darkest corner of his hiding-place.

“What are you looking for, Mike?” he heard someone say in a deep voice.

“That big goat,” was the reply. “Did you see Jumbo put him on his back? He’s a beauty. When I saw him make that flying leap among the freaks, it popped into my head that we ought to annex him to this show. He’ll sure make an attraction.”

“Do you know I thought the very same thing, and I have been looking for him too. It seems to me that he must be hidden in some of this rubbish. Have you looked in this big box?” and Mike kicked with his foot Billy’s hiding-place.

“No, I will in just a minute. But say, before we go any further let’s settle it that whether you or I find the goat, we will own him equally between us. If we decide to sell him, we’ll share and share alike.”

“I’m agreed to that. It’s my guess that it will take the two of us to handle and train him. I never saw such a jump in my born days as he made off that elephant’s back. He must be as strong as an ox. We’ll have to starve him down a bit, probably, before he will be manageable.”

“Yes, that’s right. Hurry up now and see what’s in that box. The old man will be calling us in a minute.”

“I’ll have to go right now,” thought Billy, “for I won’t be captured by that precious pair of scamps if I can possibly help it. As like as not they would want to put me in a cage, and I haven’t forgotten what that means if the stories of the wolf and the lion can be believed. It’s awfully unlucky, though, for now I am here there are a whole lot of things I want to see. The only thing for me to do is the minute one of them stoops down to look into this box, to jump at him with all my might, knock him flat, and make a bee line just as fast as I can go for the entrance. It’s good-bye Circus for me,” sighed Billy, and he prepared for the attack.

For once in this eventful day luck was with him. Just as the man called Mike was coming around—Billy could hear him—where he could look in at him, someone called and both his pursuers started on the double quick to get back to their posts, one saying to the other that they would try it again a little later.

“Saved again!” Billy would have shouted had he dared to make any noise, but he didn’t.

“I must get out of here now as quick as ever I can for they will be back in a few minutes. When I am mixed up in the crowd, the chances are that they will not find me. Even if they do I will be in no worse fix than if caught in this old box. One thing sure, no man will ever grab me by the horns again like Farmer Grant did. With my head free I am not so easy to catch and hold.”

With this he crept out of his place of concealment and was soon on the other side of the tent, gazing with all his might at the many strange animals which the different cages contained.

He stopped to talk with a number of them, but their stories were all more or less like those of the wolf and the lion. Every one of them told Billy that he would be glad to exchange places with him, and not a few warned him to take care and on no account let any of the keepers capture him. Whatever else you do, they all agreed, keep out of this show for it’s slavery of the very worst kind.

The royal Bengal tiger, who told Billy that his home was in the jungles of India, made him feel more thankful than any of the others that he was free and could go and come when and where he pleased. The things which the tiger said were something awful, and the savage way he said them made his listener tremble from head to foot. He felt a special spite, it seemed, against a keeper named Mike, whom he said he would eat alive without a grain of salt if ever he got hold of him.

Billy was sure from the name that this Mike was one of the two men who had come so near finding him, and he was more glad than before that he had escaped when he learned what a cruel master he was.

It would be very interesting to describe all the animals Billy Whiskers saw and tell their stories, but it would take too long and doubtless the readers of Billy Whiskers’ life and adventures know about them already. If not, they can all be found in the Natural History books in the library.

The bears, probably, interested Billy as much, if not more, than any of the rest. They were very good-natured, especially the young ones, and seemed very glad to make his acquaintance.

Billy, who by this time was beginning to be very hungry indeed, told them how hollow he was, and they said that they would soon fix him up all right. With that Teddy B. and Teddy G. both began to push good things to eat through the bars of their cage that fell to the ground where Billy could get at them. There were apples, cakes, peanuts and other rich food which people had thrown to the bears in great abundance.

The crowd of on-lookers when they saw the Teddy Bears feeding the goat thought it a great joke and laughed at the comical sight. Billy could hear them saying that they guessed that he was the same goat the big elephant had put on his back; others were telling their friends how he had jumped at the fat lady, and then someone said that he believed that his name must be Billy Whiskers for he had heard a couple of fine-looking boys inquiring for a runaway goat by that name. And so it came to pass that many people were beginning to talk about him, and he felt that he already had good friends in the crowd.

While it made him proud to hear his little masters called fine-looking, for he never doubted but that the two boys searching for him were Tom and Harry Treat, at the same time it put him on his guard, for after going through so much to see the Circus, he didn’t propose to be stopped yet awhile.