He Rushed upon the Treacherous Indian.

Billy Whiskers Jr.

AKRON, OHIO.
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.
NEW YORK. CHICAGO.

COPYRIGHT, 1904
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY.

This Book
is Lovingly Dedicated
to
My Little Godson,
Jack Hanson Michener.

CONTENTS

Illustrations

Night Grows Tired of the Farm.

NIGHT had not been home more than three weeks when he commenced to get restless and tired of the quiet life on the farm. It was such a change from the adventurous, exciting life he had been leading that he did not know what to do with himself. This going to bed with the chickens and getting up with the sun, with nothing to do all day long but graze in the pasture or sleep in the shade, did not suit him; so he whispered to Day one day:

“This life is driving me mad. I am going away the first chance I get. I have it all planned. Come over here by the stream and I will tell you all about it.”

“Oh, Night, don’t go away and leave us! It will be so lonely without you. Why! I think it is perfectly lovely here; it is so clean and quiet, and then we know we are not going to be hurt or starved one day and petted and stuffed the next, like we were when traveling.”

“I know, dear, but you are a girl and like the quiet, while I am a boy and like adventures. Why! I like to get into scrapes just for the fun of getting out of them. Besides, there is another reason why you like it here. You need not think I have not noticed how that handsome goat with the long hair and curved horns almost as long as my own, makes sheep’s eyes at you, for I have. And so, Miss Day, you are in love. I see you are blushing, for the inside of your ear is as red as blood, and that is a sure sign a goat is in love. Well, how do you like it? It is nicer than you thought when you took me away from Spotty, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Night! do forgive me. I never would have done it if I had thought you felt as I do now. But I did not know then; and I wanted you all to myself. I know I was selfish and jealous, but do forgive me, won’t you?”

“Yes, dear little sister, I will forgive you because I did not care so very much for Spotty. If I had, you could not have kept me from her. I would have found my way back to Madeira, if I had spent the rest of my life looking for it. But you see, don’t you? that now you will be happy and contented; father and mother don’t need me now that they have you, so I am going out to see some more of the world and try to find another goat as nice as you are to marry. If I do, I will bring her back here and we will always live happily forever afterward, as they say in the story books.”

“But when and where are you going, Night? Do tell me. And you will surely wait until I am married, won’t you?”

“I am going West. I have heard all about the wonderful prairies, plains, and mountains out there, where there are hundreds of thousands of sheep, and how each flock has a large goat for a leader. Now it is my ambition to be one of those leaders.”

“How in the world will you get there? It is thousands upon thousands of miles from here, and you can’t walk all the way.”

“No, my dear, I know I can’t walk it, but I can walk part of the way and steal rides occasionally, like the tramps do. I will get there somehow, for I never failed to do anything which I made up my mind to do if I stuck to it long enough. I can just see those immense mountains lying so still and solemn, cut by innumerable bridle paths and cañons, where the sheep seek shelter from the driving storms, protected from the wolves that sneak down to devour them by their big billy-goat leader. He gives the signal of danger and with the shepherd drives off the hungry wolves.”

“For mercy sakes! don’t talk of going where there are wolves, for they will tear you to pieces and I shan’t close my eyes until you get back, I shall be so worried,” said Day.

“Don’t fear for me, sister mine. No old wolf will get the better of me while I have two such long, sharp horns on my head as I now have. Why, a wolf is nothing more than a wild dog, and you know how I treat ugly, cross dogs.”

“I don’t believe father will let you go,” said Day as a last resort to discourage his going.

“Oh, yes, he will. He was young once and liked adventures as well as I do now; and mother won’t mind after a few days, because she has you.”

“Won’t mind. Well, I guess she will. Forty me’s can’t take the place of you in her mind; she is so proud of your strength and beauty. You needn’t get conceited, but you know you are very handsome with your silky black coat and long beard, almost as long as papa’s. Every young nanny in the pasture has been making eyes at you since you came back. Why can’t you fall in love with my chum, Belle? I am sure she is pretty enough for any goat to fall in love with. And then you could live here and not go away and leave us all again. I feel it in my bones if you go you will never come back again. Do try to live here, Night, won’t you?”

“I would do anything for you, Day, that I could, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t fall in love with that long-nosed, sheepish-looking Belle with washed-out blue eyes, even to please you.”

“Oh, Night, she hasn’t washed-out eyes and she is considered a beauty.”

“Well, I don’t admire your taste. Whoever wants her can have her, for all of me. Here comes mother and we must stop talking, for I don’t want her to know I am going away until my plans are complete.”

Night had grown so much like Billy since he had been away that he was no longer called Night but “Billy Whiskers Jr.”

Billy Jr. had taken to spending all his time by the fence that ran along the roadside, and he was getting thin from watching so much and eating so little. When his mother noticed this, she said:

“My dear son, why do you spend so much of your time down by the road where the grass is dusty and scarce instead of here by the stream where it is clean and fresh?”

“Oh, I don’t mind the dust,” he answered. “I stay there so that I can talk to the horses, cows, and sheep that pass by.”

“But you are getting thin, and your coat is dirty and shabby from want of care. And you act as if there was something on your mind. Can’t you tell your mother what it is that is worrying you?”

At this Billy Jr. broke down and told her all his plans; how he was longing to get away and go West; but he could find no one who could tell him how to get there. All the animals that passed along had been born and raised in the East and knew no more of the West than he did. Nannie answered:

“You are just like your father was at your age. I have been afraid for a long while that you were dissatisfied here; and though it will nearly break my heart to have you go, still I will not forbid your doing so.”

So Billy Jr. kept up his watch by the fence and at last was rewarded by hearing this news: A loose colt from one of the neighbors told him that a gentleman from away out West was visiting at their place and that he had brought his horse with him. This horse told them all about the big West every evening when they were all shut in their stalls; and he, for his part, was crazy to go.

“That is just what I am crazy to hear about for I want to go there myself. Can’t you kick the stable door down to-night so I can get in and hear what he says?” said Billy Jr.

“Certainly I can, for my stall is the outside one, and I will do it when I hear you bah outside.”

“Thank you very much,” said Billy Jr. “I will be there as soon as the hired man has left the barn, so he won’t see me and drive me back.”

And for the first time in many days Billy Jr. ate a good dinner and rolled and rolled in the clean sand to shine up his much neglected coat, which, when he had finished, shone again like satin. As evening drew on he was all impatience for it to get pitchy dark and for every one to go to bed, so he could be off. At last he thought it was dark enough for him to try it, especially as his coat was so black it was not easily detected.

He jumped the fence where he and Day had jumped it when they had returned from their travels and, turning down the road, he was soon on his way to the neighbor’s to hear what the horse had to say about the West.

Westward Ho!

BILLY JR. soon found himself at the neighbor’s, bleating for the colt to kick down the door. This was done with two kicks and Billy Jr. walked in and was introduced to the horse from the West.

“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said the horse. “I hear you are thinking of going West and would like to know something about it and how to get there. I also heard that you thought of walking and trusting to stealing rides on the cars if you could not get there in any other way. Now I hate to discourage you but, strong and brave as you are, you could not do it. You might get as far as the Great Plains, but these you could never cross. You would die of hunger and thirst if not with lonesomeness long before you had got a quarter of the way. Imagine yourself on a vast prairie without a hill or a tree in sight; the ground as level as if rolled out with a rolling-pin and covered with sage brush and short buffalo grass, coarse as straw and dry as chips; not a living thing in sight but a jack-rabbit or two and a buzzard flying overhead waiting for your dead body. This buzzard has been following you for he knows from experience that it won’t be many days before you are stark and cold in death, either from hunger or thirst. Or, if the worst should come to the worst, you might be torn to pieces by a pack of prairie wolves as hungry as yourself.

“Sometimes cattle stray from the flock and try to cross the plains alone and get as far as Dead Lake—a lake of alkali water that lies in the desert. This water is as clear as crystal and looks so tempting to the poor thirsty cattle that they often drink it, though all around its margin are the bleached bones of other cattle that have drunk of its poisoned waters and died. One can’t blame them for drinking, for it looks so cool and refreshing to them as it lies there clear and tempting, rippled by the breezes that blow over it. Oh, no! Mr. Billy, better wait and content yourself here or get shipped through in a car as I was.”

All this gave Billy Jr. some things to think about and he went home feeling blue and depressed and almost ready to give up his cherished plans. But next morning he awoke with the same burning desire to go, and he made up his mind that faint heart never got anywhere nor did anything, and he decided he would start anyway and follow the sun in its direct course west day after day and see where it would bring him. If it did not lead him where he wanted to go, it would at least give him adventures, hardships, and pleasures, and they in themselves were worth going after.

About 11 o’clock in the morning, while he was telling Day that his mind was made up to start the next day at sunrise, he looked up and saw the horse from the West turn into their lane with a fine-looking gentleman on his back. He ran over to the fence to see if he could not get a word or two with the horse. When pretty near to him, the gentleman stopped his horse and Billy Jr. heard him say:

“My soul! but that is a fine-looking goat. I would give a hundred dollars to have him West to lead my flocks.”

“Bah, bah,” bleated Billy Jr., which meant, “You can have me for ten cents.” As the gentleman rode on, Billy Jr. said to himself, “Oh, why can’t people understand us as we can them? for then I could plead with him to take me West!” And he walked off and butted an inoffensive goat in his anger and tried to pick a quarrel with him. But the goat knew Billy Jr.’s reputation too well and refused to fight.

Right after dinner Billy Jr. saw Mr. Windlass and the gentleman who had ridden into the lane that morning coming into the pasture. He did not go to meet them because he felt cross and disagreeable, so he stood staring at them, chewing grass like an old man chews tobacco. However, they came straight up to where he stood, and he heard Mr. Windlass tell the gentleman how he and the white goat over there (pointing to Day) had come to him one morning and he had never been able to learn to whom they belonged or where they came from, though he had advertised in all the papers.

“I had a black and a white kid a couple of years ago, but it is not likely they could be the same ones grown up and come back.”

“I don’t know,” answered the gentleman, “goats are queer creatures. Mr. Windlass, what will you take for him? I have been looking for a big jet-black billy-goat to lead my flocks for a long time. The wolves are getting pretty bad out West on the range and a goat makes a good leader. I want a black one, as his color would distinguish him from the white sheep immediately. Besides, your goat has other points in his favor; he is strong, large, a good fighter you say, and has long, sharp-pointed horns. Name your price and I will take him and have him shipped West in the same car with my horse when I go. I will charter a car and put feed in one end of it and have the other partitioned off into two stalls into which I will put the goat and horse.”

Billy Jr. failed to hear what Mr. Windlass asked for him, but he heard the gentleman say:

“It is a bargain and I will send my man for him to-night, for I expect to leave very early in the morning for Boston to catch the westbound train.”

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Papa Billy and Mamma Nanny, come here and hear what glorious news I have for you. I am going West to-morrow!”

Nanny nearly fainted when she heard the news, it was so sudden, and even staunch old Billy Whiskers shed a tear when he thought of his gallant young son leaving them, perhaps forever. While for Day, she just rolled over on the ground and cried, but was soon comforted by a handsome young goat only a few months older than herself.

True to his word, Mr. Wilder, the Western gentleman, sent his man for Billy Jr. just before dark; and when the goats saw him come through the gate preparatory to leading Billy Jr. off, they all gathered round to say a last farewell, and old Billy, Nanny, and Day all followed him to the gate and watched him with streaming eyes through the palings until he was out of sight. The man led Billy Jr. to the depot, and there he was put into a freight-car with the Westerner’s pet horse, Star.

“Hello, Mr. Billy Jr.! Glad I am to have you as a companion. You did not expect to have such good luck as this when last I saw you. You will find this beats walking all to pieces.”

“It certainly does,” answered Billy Jr. “This piece of luck is beyond my greatest expectations.”

Just then the train gave a jerk forward and stopped suddenly, which sent Billy Jr. off his feet, it was so unexpected, and bumped Star’s nose against the end of the car.

“Well, I never!” said Billy Jr. “This is worse than the rocking of a vessel for knocking one around.”

“Yes, and the worst of it is you can never tell when it is coming. If one only could, he might brace himself for it and not get hurt,” said Star. “I hear you have traveled a good deal by water and that you were once shipwrecked,” said he. “Won’t you tell me something of your adventures?”

“Some day I will, but now I want to ask you questions about the West.”

After a half-hour’s backing, switching, and jerking, the train at last moved out of the yards and started on its way for the West, with a bumpity, bump, bump and a clankity, clank, clank. Once out of the city, it wound itself in and out among the hills and across country like a huge, brown snake.

In this way they traveled for a couple of days. They enjoyed the scenery of the Horse Shoe Bend in the Allegheny Mountains, which they crossed; and they both speculated on what would become of them if the train rolled from the track in rounding the curve and landed them at the foot of the mountain thousands of feet below. Through the slats of the car that had been left open they could see the country through which they passed, and they stood and looked until cinders got in their eyes and they grew too tired to stand still.

There Was a Terrific Explosion and They Felt Themselves being Hurled
through Space.

The Collision.

EVERYTHING went well until about midnight of the fourth day out, when Billy Jr. and his companion were awakened by a terrific crash, a bumpity-bump-bump, and the door of the car broke from its hinges and fell to the ground. At the same time there was a noise as if an avalanche of snow were scraping and rattling on the top of the car.

“What do you suppose has happened?” said Billy Jr.

“I think either we have run into some other train or it has run into us,” answered Star.

And the latter is what it proved to be. The freight was behind time and an excursion train had tried to make the next station before the freight started out. The consequence was that the excursion train, running at a high rate of speed, did not notice the freight, which was behind a deep bend in the road, until it was too late, and crashed into it. Both engines were thrown off the track and two or three cars of the excursion train were smashed to splinters, while one was suspended in mid-air over a deep precipice of the mountain and the only thing that kept it from going over was the coupling between it and the other car.

For a second after the crash everything was still; then the cries of women and children were heard above the noise of escaping steam and crackling wood, as fire spread from one car to another and added its horror to the already disastrous wreck.

“Billy Jr., I smell smoke,” said Star. “You are not tied while I am. Can’t you jump out and see where it comes from; for if the train is on fire, what will become of me? I am tied up so tight I can’t possibly get loose.”

“Try to pull back and break your strap,” said Billy Jr.

Star tried, but it would not break.

“I’ll tell you how; rub your head against the side of the car and try to slip your bridle over your ears,” suggested Billy.

Star did this and the bridle dropped off. But he was no better off than before, for he found himself boarded in his stall away from the open door.

“I’ll tell you how you can fix that,” said Billy Jr. “You kick with all your might and throw your body against the boards and I am sure they will give way, for they are nailed on loosely from this side. While you do that, I will jump out and see what is the matter and if there is any danger of the fire reaching our car.”

So while Star threw his weight against the boards and kicked for dear life, Billy ran forward to see how bad the wreck was.

He came upon a sight weird and appalling to the last degree. The night was inky black, while the flames, as they licked up car after car, lit up the landscape with a red glare like some scene at the theatre; while for a background stood the tall, black mountains silent and still, like sentinels around a bivouac fire. Running hither and thither were men and women trying to save their companions from the burning train, and many acts of heroism were performed, while lives were bravely risked to save friend or stranger wedged in between the broken seats of the smoking mass.

Billy waited only to take one look and then he ran back to tell Star that he must get out as soon as possible, as the flames were spreading fast in his direction.

While Star was kicking at his partition with vehemence and Billy was trying to help butt him loose, there was a terrific explosion and they felt themselves being hurled through space. The car ahead of them had contained some gasoline and when the fire reached it, it had exploded, blowing up the car and the one next to it.

But, strange as it may seem, neither Star nor Billy Jr. were hurt seriously. Star got a sprained shoulder and Billy a skinned leg, that was all.

The wreck delayed them thirty-six hours, and while they were waiting for the wrecking train to come to their assistance, clear the track, and put the engines on again, Billy Jr. and Star had a fine time roaming around the mountains and rummaging among the debris; or rather, Billy Jr. did while Star stood off and watched.

Billy Jr. would nose around among all the broken boxes, packages, trunks, etc., until he smelt some one’s luncheon; then he would eat it up, pasteboard box and all, if he could not get the lid off. At last he came to the remains of the dining-car, and amongst the wreckage he found some fine apples and pears. He called to his friend, but Star felt too timid to come at first until Billy persisted, but after awhile he picked his way to where the apples were, half covered by the broken pieces of the car.

While feasting on these the horse felt a hand laid on his mane, and on looking around to see who it was he heard Pete, the man who had been sent to take care of them, say:

“By all that is merciful, how did you and Billy escape from being blowed to smithereens? I thought ye’s were both flying around the dog star by now. But it’s mighty glad I am to find ye’s both alive, for me master’s very fond of ye’s both and I wouldn’t ’a’ had anything happen to ye’s for worlds while ye’s was in my care.”

Pete led Star off and, finding a piece of rope, tied him to a tree to wait until another train was sent to carry them on, while he sat down and commenced to smoke, too lazy to help clear away the wreckage. He let Billy roam at will, for he knew he would not go far from the horse, they were such good friends.

Presently they heard the purring and blowing of a train coming up the grade to pick them up and carry them along on their journey. When Pete heard it he said:

“It’s mighty glad I am to hear that, for I am as hungry as a bear, not being able to ate tin cans and raw pertaters like you, Mr. Billy Jr., and grass and herbs like you, Mr. Star.”

The train presently reached them, and by the help of many hands, everything was soon packed on board and they were off for the West once more.

They did not have any more mishaps and reached Chicago one raw, windy morning. As their train pulled into the yard, where it was to lie until their car was switched on to the Santa Fe train that was to carry Billy Jr. to the far West, he remarked:

“So this dirty, flat-looking city is Chicago, the far-famed first World’s Fair city! Well, I don’t think much of it from what I have seen.”

“Oh, but you shouldn’t judge any city by what you see of it from a train, for remember, the tracks always run through the worst parts of the city. You should see this city’s boulevards and parks. They would make you change your mind, for they are among the finest in the world. I saw them on my way East, for Mr. Wilder stopped here a week and during that time kept me at a livery stable and every day he took a horseback ride. In that way I saw all of the city, its handsome residences, business districts, parks, and boulevards; and I can tell you there are none finer, not even in your beloved Boston.”

“Don’t you think I could manage to run away and see it all?” asked Billy.

“Not unless you wish to give up your trip West, for if you once left this car you could never find your way back among all those hundreds of others in the yard here that look just like it.”

“I could easily find my way back if that was all,” said Billy Jr., “but the thing I am afraid of is that they might start West and leave me, or switch you off to another yard where I could not find you.”

Their conversation was interrupted here by a man bringing them something to eat and a bucket of water.

“I do not see why they did not run this car over to the Stock Yards so these animals could have been taken out and fed and watered and their car cleaned in proper shape,” Billy Jr. heard a red-headed man say, as he pushed back the sliding door that shut them in. “For heaven’s sake! I thought it was two horses we had been sent to look after and not a car of goats,” as Billy Jr. appeared at the door.

“You can have the job,” said a jolly-looking, fat man. “I throw up my share right here. I had all I wanted to do with goats when I was a boy.”

“Why, what did they ever do to you that you should take such a dislike to them?” said the red-headed man.

“Well, I’ll tell you. The first thing they did to me when I was a little shaver was to chew my hair off.”

“Chew your hair off! How in the world did they get a chance to do that?”

“It happened in this way,” said the fat man, “I went to sleep on a bank by the side of the road one hot day, and when I woke up my hair was all chewed off, and the old Billy had commenced on one leg of my trousers. I stoned him good for this, but he got even a week after when he met me coming home from one of the neighbors with a basket of eggs in one hand and a pat of butter in the other. The first thing I knew I was standing on my head in the pat of butter and the eggs were all broken beside me with the basket turned upside-down. From that day on that goat and I were enemies. He would do me a mean trick and I would pay him back the first chance I got. But somehow or other he always seemed to get the best of me. And this goat is as much like him as two peas; and how do I know but what it is the same goat, though that was years ago? Goats may live to be a hundred for all I know, and I don’t care to take my chances; so I will attend to the horse and you look after the goat.”

As these words left his mouth Billy Jr. made a plunge for him and, landing in the yard clear over his head, ran off and disappeared behind some freight cars.

“Now, what did I tell you! He has got us in trouble right off, for most likely he will never come back and we will have to pay for him. Drat goats, I say! and double drat this one in particular!”

Billy Jr. Gets a Taste of the West.

JUST outside the car yard fence was a Chinese laundry, and ever since Billy’s car had been backed into the yard he had been watching the Chinamen at work at the open door. So now that he was loose he determined to get out of the yard and see what it was the Chinamen were sticking their cheeks out with and blowing on the clothes.

When he appeared at the door it startled one of the Chinamen so that he let all the water that was in his mouth and which he had intended to sprinkle the clothes with, fly in Billy’s face. Now Billy thought the Chinaman had spat in his face on purpose, and if there is one thing more than another that will make a goat fighting mad, it is to spit or even pretend to spit at him.

With a plunge forward he butted the Chinaman through a curtained partition that separated the front room from the back, knocking another Chinaman that was bending over a washtub into the tub headforemost and upsetting tub, Chinamen, and all. Then he quietly walked into the back yard where some nicely starched shirts were hanging out to dry. These he chewed until the two Chinamen tried to drive him out of the yard by turning the hose on him. They had only given him one squirt when he went for them and butted one into a limp heap in one corner of the room, while the other took to his heels down the street, as if the old man from the sulphur regions were after him.

On coming out of the laundry Billy Jr. heard Star whinnying for him in a distressed, excited voice, and he bleated back, “I am coming, Star. What’s the matter?”

Star answered back, “Hurry up or you will be left behind; they are going to switch our car on to the Santa Fe train.”

Billy knew he would not have time to go around the way he had come, so he crawled through a place in the fence where a couple of boards were off, and gained his car just as it began to back out of the yard.

“Well, old fellow, where have you been? You look all wet, and you have nearly given me nervous prostration by your absence. I have neighed and neighed for you until my throat is sore.”

“I never heard you,” said Billy Jr., “for I was inside the laundry seeing to a little washing,” and Billy Jr. commenced to laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Star.

“At the funny frightened faces those pig-tailed Chinamen made at me when they saw me coming for them. I wonder if the Chinaman I frightened up the street has stopped running yet,” said Billy Jr.

“Tell me so I can laugh, too,” said Star, “for I know you have been in mischief.”

While Billy was telling of his adventure the train started on its way, westward ho.

The trip from Chicago to Kansas City was made without any excitement; and after they had left Kansas City behind and were well on their way across the state, Billy, who was looking out of his peephole, said:

“Well, I am glad I took your advice and did not try to walk or steal rides to the West. I would have been a tired, foot-sore goat by this time, if I had ever gotten as far as here, which I doubt. The map of the United States I chewed up never gave me any idea of the distance between the eastern states and the western. Look quickly, Star, at that woman with a baby in her arm, coming out of that hole in the ground. What on earth is she doing there? They don’t bury people alive out here, do they?”

Star laughed and said, “No, she lives there. That is what they call a ‘dugout,’ and lots of people in Kansas live in them.”

“Well, when I have to live in a hole in the ground I hope I shall turn into a groundhog and be done with it.”

“Mercy!” exclaimed Billy later, “isn’t it getting hot and oppressive in here!”

“Yes, and it bodes no good for us, for I am afraid it is the calm before the storm and that we are going to have a regular old-fashioned Kansas blizzard or cyclone. Do you see that black cloud rolling toward us from the northeast? Well, I think that is a Northeaster, as they call them, bringing a sand storm with it.”

“Ugh! how cold it has grown all of a sudden. I feel chilled to the bone, after that hot, stuffy air we have been having. And see how it is raining off there.”

“Off there now, but in less than a minute it will be here; only that is not rain but fine sand that will sting us like needles, blind us, choke us, and nearly suffocate us before it blows over as suddenly as it came. I know what they are like, for we passed through one on our way East.”

Before Star had stopped talking the first particles of sand were flying and had already shut one of Billy’s eyes and filled his mouth with grit.

“Oh, this is terrible! Why don’t some one come and shut our windows so the nasty sand can’t sift in? I would not live in Kansas if they gave me the whole state,” said Billy Jr., “if this is the kind of storms they have here.”

Two days later they found themselves in New Mexico in sight of the main range of the Rocky Mountains, and Star said that by three o’clock they would be at Las Vegas, where their journey was to end. “And I shan’t be sorry, for my legs ache from standing on them so many days without lying down.”

They were met at Las Vegas by Mr. Wilder, who had been very much worried about them since he heard of the wreck they had been in. But his fears were laid at rest when he saw them, for both had come through in fine shape and had stood the trip splendidly.

The next morning Billy was tied to a wagon filled with groceries and provisions for Mr. Wilder’s ranch, whither they were bound, while Star with his master on his back galloped ahead or followed behind as he saw fit. Once when Star was walking beside him Billy said:

“Star, do you know I feel lonesome for the first time in my life. When I look at those great solemn mountains, whose tops are always covered with snow, I feel about as big as a fly and as if they were trying to teach me a lesson in patience, and dear knows I need it badly enough. How do they make you feel when you look at them?”

“I love them,” said Star, “and the nearer I get to them and the more I look at them the nearer God seems to get. People think horses, dogs and other animals don’t know about God, but I guess we feel His presence more than they do sometimes, though we can’t talk about it.”

“How much further is it?” asked Billy Jr. “I hate walking behind a wagon, taking all the dust from the horses’ heels. And this dust seems to smart so when it gets in one’s eyes.”

“Yes, I know it does; that is because there is so much alkali in the ground about here. Don’t you remember my telling you about Dead Lake and the bones of animals you would see bleaching on its margin had you tried to walk across the desert? Well, this is not a desert, but we have to pass a small lake of alkali water, and, small as it is, you can see the bones of animals lying beside it. There is very little water out here, no large rivers, and only a few springs or little mountain streams.”

“Quick! look off there toward the foot-hills; do you see that grey dog running with a long loping trot?” continued Star.

“Yes, what of it?” said Billy Jr.

“Why, that is not a dog but a coyote or prairie wolf.”

“It is? I wish I had taken a better look at him,” answered Billy Jr.

Presently Star called out, “Cheer up, Billy. We are almost there, for I can see the smoke now rising from the ranchhouse in the distance.”

Billy Jr. as Leader of the Sheep.

EARLY the next morning a small flock of sheep was driven from the corral, headed by their leader, an old mountain goat, who was always selected to take out the new flocks for the first two or three times and to break in the new leaders. And now it was Billy Jr.’s turn to be broken in and taught how to lead the sheep and give warning of any danger.

He found old Long Hair (so named from his exceedingly long hair) a very agreeable, patient goat and willing to answer all the new goat’s questions, which were not a few, as he wanted to know all about the country and the ways of Western sheep. Billy knew he must keep up a certain dignity or the sheep would never look up to him or have any confidence in him. Soon he was to get their confidence and a name for bravery in a way he least expected.

Old Long Hair had led them from the corral across the mesa and down into a valley where a little water was to be found in the bottom of an “aroya,” or deep ditch, which an Easterner would call a gully. It is made by the water washing down the sides of the mountains and plowing its way through the soft soil. When the flock got to the edge of this aroya, Billy noticed that a large ram with immense double twisted horns walked out of the flock toward him. But as he stood looking down into the muddy yellow water thinking to himself that it would not be fit to drink if he took the trouble to climb down after it, he forgot all about the ram, until he heard a voice at his side say:

“Well, young fellow, what do you mean by coming along with this flock without asking my permission? I suppose you know that I am master of this herd and I don’t need the assistance of any dandyfied goat like you. When I do, I will select one of my own choosing and not a stranger and tenderfoot from the East.”

Billy Jr. laughed in his face and said:

“Don’t provoke me, old fellow, or I may give you a butt that will land you in that muddy water.”

“What! You dare to speak to me like that, you—you impertinent black-haired goat! If you dare to say another word I will hook you with my strong horns.”

“And what do you suppose I would be doing while you were doing that?” asked Billy. “What do you suppose I would be doing with my own long horns about that time?”

“Look here, young impertinence, I don’t intend to stand here and talk to you all morning, so be off with you.”

“Neither shall I waste any more time over you, Mr. Puffed-up, so take that, and that!” said Billy, as he gave the ram two sharp hooks in his side and sent him rolling to the bottom of the aroya.

When he looked up he found that all the sheep had gathered around to see how the bully of the herd was going to come out with the slick black stranger. Billy made a bow to them and said:

“I would not explain to Mr. Puffer who I am, but I don’t mind telling you all that I am the goat selected by your master to lead this flock, and he brought me all the way from Boston to do it. He picked me out because he thought I was a good fighter and could take care of myself as well as protect you from the wolves, which he said were bad in these parts. Now if any one of you thinks I can’t take care of myself and would not make a good leader, I would like him to walk out of the flock and say so, and we can fight it out while the rest of you look on and see fair play.”

No sheep or goat walked out, and from that day until he left he was the most beloved and admired of all the leaders the flock had ever had.

The next day Billy, as the acknowledged leader, determined when he started out not to stop for water at that dirty aroya, but to push on to the foot-hills and see if he could not find a nice, cool spring, or at least some water that was not as thick with yellow mud as that they had drunk the day before.

He let the sheep graze as they went, but he always managed to keep ahead of them a few steps and in this way they unconsciously hurried forward and by noon found themselves climbing the steep sides of the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains, which in comparison with the main-ranges seem like little hills.

He Felt Himself Pinioned on a Pair of Long, Sharp Horns.

Billy left them to graze there while he climbed to the top so he could get a view of the surrounding country and see what was in the opposite valley. The sight that met his eyes was beyond description—in the distance lay the main range of the Rocky Mountains, deep blue in color with a white cap of snow on their heads; and shading down in all the intermediate colors between deep purple, blue and pale gray were parallel ranges of mountains. Directly beneath him a silvery stream wound its way through a fertile valley, and nestled on its banks was a small settlement of adobe houses where lived the Mexicans that farmed the land.

He had only to turn around and at his back lay an entirely different scene. This one was grand in its lonesomeness, with its plains and mesas destitute of trees or life. Out across the barren prairie on a tableland equally as barren lay Fort Union, now deserted, from which the soldiers used to ride to fight the Indians. Whichever way the eye roamed one saw height, space, grandeur which awed into stillness and made one think of God. It was a silent sermon felt, not spoken.

Suddenly Billy was rudely awakened from his reverie. There, skulking stealthily along behind some rocks and bushes, he detected a moving object that seemed to come creeping, creeping nearer and nearer to his sheep. He looked again more intently, and yes, sure enough, it was a wolf he saw making for the flock. In a second the responsibility of his position, which he had forgotten for a time, rushed upon him, and with bound after bound he started down the mountain side. Only a moment he halted to see if the wolf were still coming, and as he did so, a little white, tender lamb ran on ahead of its mother right into the jaws of death, for not twenty steps ahead crouched the wolf ready to spring.

The little lamb came nearer. The wolf crouched on his hind legs a little more, opened his mouth, and sprang; but instead of his teeth closing on the tender morsel, he felt himself pinioned on a pair of long, sharp horns.

But Billy was also surprised to find on closer inspection that his supposed wolf was not a wolf at all, but one of the half-civilized dogs from the placita, or Mexican village. It seems that these dogs will guard their own flocks from an enemy, but will sneak out and eat up any young lamb that strays from the fold of a stranger’s flock.

After this the sheep were more fond of Billy than ever and would go anywhere he led them without a murmur.

A Fight With Wolves.

SEVERAL DAYS after this when Billy was out in the mountains he noticed that it grew suddenly cold and that light flurries of snow began to blow and swirl through the mountain passes. He climbed to the top of a peak whence he could get a good view of the clouds and saw, advancing from the direction of the main range, a terrible black cloud that was hurling snow and sleet on the mountains and valleys as it came.

It took him but a moment to decide what to do, for he knew if the young lambs were caught out in such a severe storm they would be frozen to death. So he turned back to the flock and told them to follow him as quickly as they could and not to stop to take even a mouthful of grass. He led them into the deepest, most sheltered cañon he could find and told them to stand close together so as to keep each other as warm as possible and to be careful to see that the young sheep and lambs were on the inside where it would be the warmest.

Here they stood while the storm raged and blew over and above the cañon, but the sheep were so sheltered that scarcely any snow fell on them, as the force of the wind carried it over. It grew darker and darker and time to go home, but Billy said:

“We will have to stay here all night. It will never do to go out in such a storm onto the open prairie. Half of you would perish with the cold before you got across the valley.”

So there they stayed in their little sheltered nook undisturbed until about midnight, when they were startled by hearing the weird yelping bark of a pack of prairie wolves coming straight down the cañon. This threw the sheep into a terrible panic, for they knew that same pack of wolves only too well; they had made raids on them before and carried off a baby lamb and now and then an old sheep.

Now Billy had never met or even seen a wolf in his life, but he had absolutely no fear of them, as he knew they were too much like dogs to be afraid of. Still he did not know how he would come out fighting a whole pack by himself, and from the sound of their voices it seemed as if there must be at least fifty of them.

“Now all you rams that have horns make a circle around the sheep, and if a wolf tries to get through in order to get at a young sheep, fight for your lives and theirs and don’t give up and run off. While you do this I will run here and there wherever I think a wolf is most likely to break through your circle and kill them one by one, for I am not afraid of any wolf I ever heard of.”

This stand of Billy’s gave them more courage, but they were so accustomed to turn tail and run at the approach of danger that Billy was afraid they would do so now at the first sight they got of the wolves.

All this time the wolves had been drawing nearer and nearer, until now only the bend of the pass separated them from the flock.

Soon the yellowish light of seven pairs of eyes glared through the blackness. This was met by the fiery red light in Billy Jr.’s eyes. The trembling sheep dared not move nor look up. Not so Billy! His eyes fairly blazed defiance, and with a snort of rage he bounded on the leader of the pack and killed him before he knew what had struck him. Billy was so black the wolves could not see him; all they could see were the red balls of fire that seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, the most deadly balls they had ever come in contact with, for wherever they appeared a wolf lay dead the next moment.

Billy heard a bleat of agony, and looking to where it came from saw a dark object in among the white, and knew that a wolf had broken through the ring he had formed for their protection and the old rams were deserting their post and running away.

“Come back, you cowards!” Billy cried. “You will only be killed if you go out alone.” This brought them to their senses and they closed in once more around the sheep, but left Billy to do all the fighting. This he did with a vengeance and to such good purpose that the wolves commenced to slink away, wondering what kind of a leader these sheep had in the place of old Long Hair.

The next morning Billy Jr. led the sheep home, thinking it would be better for them in the corral than out on the mountains until the weather moderated, for they were not used to such storms in this climate.

When Mr. Wilder saw Billy leading the flock home he went to meet him on Star and said:

“Billy, I was not mistaken in taking you for a born leader. You are worth your weight in gold. But it beats me where you hid yourselves last night, for we looked for you and could not find one of you. And then for you to come back out of such a storm without even a lamb missing is remarkable. I wonder the wolves did not get after you and kill some of the young lambs, even if they did not freeze to death.” And Billy Jr. wondered what he would have said could he see the dead wolves lying in the cañon.

Three days after the dead bodies were found by a man from another ranch when looking for his sheep that had been lost since the night of the storm and, seeing some small flecks of wool sticking to the side of the rocks opposite, he knew why his neighbor’s sheep had not been killed and his had. He immediately rode over and told Mr. Wilder, who rode back to see where Billy had fought his brave battle and saved so many lives. From that day on Billy was the hero he deserved to be and no amount of money could have bought him.

As the sheep stayed in the corral the next day after the storm, Billy thought he would try and find Star and have a talk with him. So he jumped the low wall of the corral and soon found his friend in the stable-yard chewing some corn husks.

“Hello, Billy Jr.! I am glad to see you,” said Star. “I have not laid eyes on you for ages and I am anxious to learn what you think of our Western country by this time.”

“Oh, I think it is good enough as far as the country goes for any one who likes it, but I am tired of it and am going back to civilization.”

“What, tired of it already, and with all the honors you have had heaped upon you!” said Star.

“Yes. I don’t like buffalo grass as a steady diet nor dirty cañon water to drink. And those sheep are altogether too stupid to suit me. I would rather live in a city; and that is what I have come to see you about. I am not ready to go home yet, but I can’t make up my mind whether to go to old Mexico or California.”

“Hear him talk, will you! He talks of going to old Mexico or California as I would of going into the next pasture. But, my dear fellow, how do you expect to get there? and are you aware that both of these places are hundreds of miles from here?” said Star.

“Yes, I know they are, but what of that? If I want to go there I can get there. All I have to do is to wish for a thing hard enough and I get it. You know I made up my mind to come West, and here I am.”

“Yes, you are a plucky fellow, and I half believe that if we had not brought you, you would have carried out your threat of walking here,” said Star.

“You are right, I should,” said Billy Jr.

“Well, if you want my advice, I would go to old Mexico, as I think there would be more of interest there for you than in California.”

“I don’t know whether to follow the railroad tracks or start across country.”

“Oh, Billy! You will be the death of me, the way you talk of our great distances as if they were only a few miles,” said Star.

“Here comes the man to chase me back to the corral and I suppose he is wondering how I ever got out. I want to thank you for your kindness to me and to tell you how much I have enjoyed your friendship, which I hope nothing will ever break. I trust we will meet again in the East some day. Good luck to you and good-bye for a time. When I see you again I will have something of interest to tell you. Good-bye again,” and Billy bounded over the fence as the man walked in the gate to chase him out, while Star whinnied his good-bye.

Billy Jr. Learns Something about Cowboys and Indians.

ONE morning three months later Billy Jr. appeared, tired, cold, and hungry, in front of a ranchman’s door; and was first seen by the Chinese cook, who opened the kitchen door of the long adobe house to see what the weather was like. There was Billy by the well, trying to get a drink out of the almost empty bucket on the well-curb.

Billy’s first thought when he saw the Chinaman was to run away, for he had been so illy treated lately—shot at, stoned, and half-starved—that he had lost some of his assurance and confidence in people and preferred to look them well over before he got too near. But the Chinaman appeared so inoffensive that he stood his ground and stared back when the man rubbed his eyes to see if it really were a large, live billy-goat by the well; his first thought being that he had not quite got over his opium pipe of last night. But when Billy Jr. bleated a good-morning to him, he came out of his stupor, walked to the well, and drew a bucket of water for the tired, thirsty beast.

From that day Billy was a fast friend of the Chinaman. Never in his life had anything tasted so good and refreshing as that cool drink of water after his long, dusty trip across the plains and mesas.

For a day and a night Billy Jr. had followed a wagon trail without passing a human being or habitation, and when he saw this ranchhouse it was indeed a welcome sight. He was tired, lonesome, hungry, and discouraged, and he knew that he must go back to the little town by the railroad, the last settlement he had met with, if he did not soon find a house and some living thing, man or beast, he could not endure the dreary solitude another day.

He preferred the town to this, even if the boys did tie tin cans to his tail, the women chase him with broomsticks or throw hot water on him when he tried to steal a meal from their kitchens, and the cow-boys aim at him to see how near they could come without actually shooting him. Once, when he stopped to get a drink of water from a trough standing outside of a saloon, the cow-boys caught him and forced him to drink some beer, which made him feel dizzy and as if the sidewalk were flying up and going to hit him in the face. And, oh my! what a splitting headache he had all the next day! It made him wonder and wonder how people could drink such nasty, bitter stuff when they could have pure, clear water instead, and he thought if they had to pay five dollars a bottle for water, perhaps they would crave it.

After these experiences, do you wonder that Billy was glad to find a friend in the Chinaman?

When the potatoes were peeled for breakfast the next morning, the skins were given to Billy, and they tasted as good to him, after his long fast, as fresh turnips did when he was living in plenty.

Just as the sun lighted the tops of the mountains, the Chinaman rang a large bell that hung on a high pole near the well, to call the cow-boys to breakfast, and as its peals rang out on the morning air it was answered by the barking of what seemed to be dozens of coyotes, although, in reality, there was perhaps not half that number; a peculiarity of their bark being that it seems to double itself and to sound as if coming from twice as many throats as it really does. Billy did not like to hear the coyotes, for their dismal cries made him feel both lonesome and homesick.

Immediately after breakfast the cow-boys rode off to look after the cattle and as soon as Billy saw them depart he gave a sigh of relief, for when they were around they were always plaguing him and throwing lassos or cracking their whips at him.

“Now, while the Chinaman is busy with his dishes and the cow-boys are away, is my time to explore the premises and find out what things look like around here,” thought Billy and, seeing an open door, he walked through and found himself in a long, low room barren of carpet or furniture, unless two tiers of bunks, a wooden chair or two, a washstand with a tin basin on it, and a cracked looking-glass, could be called furniture.

This room was in great disorder. Boots were lying around everywhere; some in the bunks, others sticking out from under them, and still others strewn about in general confusion all over the floor; and where there were no boots there were clay and corn-cob pipes with half-empty tobacco bags beneath them. None of these things surprised Billy, but what did puzzle him was that between the windows there were a lot of holes in the walls which were filled with old rags loosely poked in, while guns of all sizes and descriptions hung on the walls or were stacked in the corners of the room.

“This looks like a fort,” thought Billy, “but I fail to see who there is to fight around here.” But, even as he thought this, he remembered that Indians lived in this territory, and cold chills ran down his spine, for although he was only a goat, he had often heard of the unparalleled cruelty of the Apache Indian dwelling in this part of the country and he at once realized why this house had been built with holes in its walls and why all the guns were there. In case of a siege, the cow-boys barricaded the windows and doors and stuck the barrels of their guns into these holes, and then they were prepared to resist an attack and to defend themselves.

Besides the room in which Billy stood, the house contained a sitting-room, dining-room, kitchen, and a small room that was kept shut up except when occupied by the owner during his yearly visits to the ranch.

When Billy had reached this point in his explorations, he heard the Chinaman calling, “Bee-lee, Bee-lee, Bee-lee.”

“I suppose that means me, so since he makes my name sound so much like Bee, I will carry out the notion and make a bee-line for him,” said Billy.

“Where-ee you been, Bee-lee?” said the Chinaman when he saw Billy running toward him. “Come-ee long-ee in a here-ee; I have-ee something good-ee for-ee you-ee,” and he gave Billy a piece of Johnnie-cake that had been scorched in the baking-and which he did not want the ranchman to see because of the wasted meal.

While Billy Jr. was eating, the Chinaman threw himself down upon a wooden bench in the corner of the room, took two or three whiffs from his opium pipe and was soon fast asleep, dreaming doubtless of his almond-eyed sweetheart in the Orient. When Billy saw the pipe fall from his hand, he took first a smell and then a taste of the powder that had spilled out of it upon the floor; and soon he felt the most delightful, drowsy sensation stealing over him, and he, too, curled himself up by the bench near the Chinaman and was soon dreaming that he was back in the old home meadow with his father, mother, and Day; but the meadow he dreamed of was covered with sweeter clover blossoms than any goat ever ate and the breeze that fanned his face was laden with sweeter perfume than mortals ever breathed.

Billy was rudely awakened from this beautiful vision by a vigorous kick and on recovering his bewildered senses, he found the room filled with excited cow-boys all talking at once. From their conversation he soon learned that the Indians were out on the warpath and were even now within sight of the house.

With wondering eyes Billy watched the boys board up the windows, barricade the doors, and stick the gun-barrels into the holes in the wall. Presently, he was driven into the sitting-room and to his surprise he found that five of the cow-boys’ ponies had also been driven in here for safety, as the boys well knew that the Indians would steal them if left outside. He had no sooner entered this room than he heard a loud bang, and a bullet flattened itself against the doorjamb just as the Chinaman ran in carrying a bucket of water from the well; for during a siege, water is a necessity for both man and beast, and while the boys had been boarding up the windows from the inside, the Chinaman had been busy filling an old barrel with water from the well.

“The red devils are upon us,” he heard a cow-boy say, and then the door was slammed shut and he was alone with the ponies. While the bullets sped thick and fast, and showers of arrows fell, all of which were answered by the cow-boys’ bullets as they tried to pick off the Indians skulking around the house, the ponies told Billy when and how the raid began.

An old roan pony that had been on the ranch for years said, “When we went out this morning to round up and count the cattle, Jim Dowsen, the man who rides me, said, ‘Something has happened during the night, for the cattle are frightened and restless,’ and when we got near them we saw at a glance what was the matter.” And he proceeded to tell Billy about the last raid of the redskins.

The Indians had ridden into the herd during the night, had stolen fifty head of the company’s best cattle, and had ham-strung about fifteen more out of wanton cruelty, because the savage nature delights in torture. When Jim saw what had been done he was furious and he rode off like the wind to find the herder who had been with the cattle. After riding around the whole herd twice without discovering any trace of him, he at last found him lying face downward on the ground, his body without arms, his head minus its scalp. After mutilating him, the savages had left him for the wolves and vultures to devour, and then satisfied with their fiendish work had stolen his pony and ridden away. Billy discovered that the Apache Indians were the most cruel and fiendish of all the tribes living in the territories.

During all this time the fury of the savages had increased.

Before leaving the ranch, the redskins intended finishing their work of destruction. They wanted pale faces. They wanted scalps. But most of all, they wanted fire-water (the Indian name for whisky). And so the attack lasted for three days or more. Provisions were getting low within the cabin, the fuel to cook the meals with was gone, and the horses were neighing for fodder, as they had been fed only potatoes and cabbage once a day, and then as a last resort, straw out of the mattresses; and still the Indians skulked outside and waited for the little band of men in the house either to surrender or to starve.

The third night of the siege the boys began to lose courage. Constant watching, loss of sleep, little to drink and less to eat had nearly worn them out, while their enemies seemed to be in perfect condition and acted as though satisfied to camp outside their door for the rest of their natural lives.

At last, one of the cow-boys named Henry Staples said, “I have it, boys! I know just how we can get out of here; save our scalps and, what is better still, kill every one of those fiends sitting outside grimly waiting to see our finish.”

“Don’t buoy us up with a fairy tale like that, Henry,” they all said, “for it is too good to be true.”

“Listen and hear my plan,” he replied. “You remember that can of rat-poison we bought to kill rats with when in town the last time?”

“Yes,” they answered.

“Well, let us take that rat-poison and put it in a keg of fire-water; next, run up a flag of truce, then set the keg with seven or eight cups outside. Thinking we are offering it in the place of a peace pipe, the Indians will not hesitate to come and drink. They are used to poor fire-water and so will be less likely to detect the poison and will drink cup after cup until they are stupified, and in the end the poison will kill them as surely as it would kill the rats. These Indians are not any better than rats and should be treated as such. Have they not tortured and killed hundreds of people?”

“You are right, Henry; we can at least try your plan. It seems the only feasible way out of our plight, and it can but fail.” So they blew a horn to attract the attention of the Indians and then hoisted a flag of truce on the flag-pole at the side of the house where the United States flag usually floated; and while the Indians were watching it, the cow-boys set the fire-water outside with the cups on top of the keg; then, through the peep-holes where the guns had been, they watched the Indians confer together about coming forward to get a taste of the much coveted fire-water.

Presently a big buck, evidently the chief of the tribe, walked boldly forward and took a drink. He smacked his lips and then drew another cupful, which he swallowed at one gulp. Upon seeing this, the other braves ran up to get their share, for they did not know how much or how little the keg might contain. When they found that it was full, they commenced to dance around in high glee and they drank again and again as if they could not get enough.

“I should like to shoot every one of them as they now stand,” said Henry.

“No, don’t,” said the others. “Save your ammunition for live Indians. These will soon be dead.”

The chief, who had taken the first drink, was now feeling the effect of the potion and was becoming quarrelsome. He soon began to fight with another big Indian and this led to the rest taking sides with one or the other, and soon all were engaged in a grand melee, flourishing their weapons in a most reckless and dangerous manner, regardless of consequences, because the fire-water had gone to their heads. Presently a young buck, half-crazed under the combined influence of the fire-water and the poison, started for the door of the house and tried to batter it down, forgetting all about the flag of truce, and calling upon the other Indians to follow him and scalp the pale faces, but, even as their arms were upraised to strike the door, they were seized with cramps and violent pains. The poison had conquered at last and soon all were lying around in every possible shape, twisting and writhing in their death struggles.

The Man Made a Grab for the Greased Pole and down He Went.

In less than an hour every Indian lay motionless and the cow-boys went out to take possession of their arms and ponies. Suddenly Billy saw an Indian, supposed to be dead, stealthily rise and creep after one of the boys who was bending over a dead brave unstrapping his cartridge belt. For a second he saw a knife glisten in the sunlight and he knew that in another instant it would be buried in the unsuspecting boy’s back. With Billy, to see was to act, so without hesitation he rushed upon the treacherous Indian and tossed him aside as if he had been a paper ball. The knife dropped from his hand, for he had been killed instantly. One of Billy’s sharp horns had pierced his heart. All the cow-boy said, when he realized what Billy had done, was, “Billy, you have saved my life and for this you shall have a collar of gold, with your name and a record of your brave act engraved upon it.” The cow-boy kept his promise, so ever after Billy wore his collar of gold.

A few days after the siege, Billy felt that he had seen enough of ranch life and life on the plains, so he decided to return to town and from there go to some large city as fast as his legs would carry him. “For, if I stay here,” he mused, “other Indians may come to avenge those who have been poisoned. They may take a fancy to my horns to decorate one of their wigwams and may cut my head off, and then where would I be? Who knows but what they may come this very night? Anyhow I have seen enough of wild western life and I shall leave this country right now. There is no time like the present,” and with this soliloquy he started on a dead run for town by the same way he had come and he never stopped to say good-bye even to the Chinaman.

Billy Jr. and the Firemen.

THE next we hear of Billy Jr. he is in San Francisco living, as his father did before him, with an engine company near the outskirts of the city. When first we spy him, he and another goat are stealing vegetables out of the firemen’s garden. This other goat is an old fellow with a stubby tail and a single horn, and although he eats a great deal every day, anything and everything, from tin cans to rotten potatoes, and has a digestive apparatus like an ostrich, he still looks thin and shows every rib in his anatomy. Whether this lean, gaunt, hungry look is because of a guilty conscience or the result of ill-usage, I know not, but I do know that he is the homeliest goat any one ever looked at.

Bang! goes a gun and the next minute four pairs of legs are flying over the garden fence. “There, I told you we could not steal safely in broad daylight,” said Billy Jr.

“Oh! I hope you don’t mind a little scare like that,” answered the old goat. “Why, my sides are full of bullet holes. They are always firing at me, but I simply caper round and round until they pick the shot out, for it only goes in skin deep.”

“Well, I can tell you I don’t care to have my sides peppered like that,” said Billy; “and, too, a bullet might go astray and put out one or both of my eyes. But here comes that fireman I so detest. Let us run and hide. I shall get even with him some of these fine days when he least expects it, for he is always cutting me with that fine-lashed whip that hangs in the engine-house. I don’t care how much he tries to club me, for I can fight, butt, and run, besides when he has a club in his hand he is obliged to come close in order to hit me, so that gives me a chance to butt him, but a long-lashed whip is a very different matter. It winds itself about one before he knows what is coming.”

“I, too, have a grudge against that particular fireman,” said old One-horn, as the boys had nicknamed the other goat, “and if you can get even with him I shall be your friend for life, for it was through him that I lost my horn and you know it is as bad for a goat to lose a horn as it is for a man to lose a leg. Come and lie here in the shade while I tell you how I lost my horn.”

“That fireman,” the old goat continued, “had been persistently mean to me for weeks; had put red pepper in my food until my tongue was nearly burned out, had shaken snuff under my nose and on my beard until I had almost sneezed my head off, had turned the hose on me until I was half frozen, and had annoyed me in a hundred other petty ways, until I felt that I could kill him with a clear conscience if I ever got the chance. He was the largest of the firemen and a champion boxer, but I was not afraid of that and resolved to watch for an opportunity when I might catch him alone and then pay him with compound interest for all the mean tricks he had played on me. One day I was lying here in the shade half-way between sleeping and waking when I saw him come out of the engine-house and start to cross the vacant lot you see before you, for his home is on the other side. He was half-way across when the thought struck me—now is my opportunity. He was alone and carried nothing to protect himself with, so I jumped up and ran quietly behind him, the soft turf deadening all sounds of my approach, and he never suspected that I was near him until I gave him a vigorous butt that was the master-stroke of my life. It sent him flying six feet or more straight in the air. When he struck the ground he lay perfectly motionless for a moment with the breath knocked completely out of him. He was only stunned, however, for he soon raised his head and, seeing me, shook his fist and fairly roared, ‘You confounded old goat, I’ll break every bone in your old carcass for this.’

“I intended to let him alone after that, for I thought he had been punished enough, but when he shook his fist and threatened me, I was mad all over and I lowered my head and would have butted him again had he not caught me by the horns, at the same time giving my head a twist with his great muscular arm, that nearly broke my neck. This made me furious, and I stamped and kicked and tried to get my horns loose, but he held me tight, well knowing that it was dangerous to let me go.

“Well, we rolled and tumbled about in the mud until we were both nearly exhausted, and at last he loosened his hold of my horns, at the same time giving me a parting blow on the head that made me see stars for an instant. In the meantime he started for home on a dead run, and as a matter of course I lost no time in following him, but I did not catch up until just as he was entering the front door of his home. Then I aimed straight for his coat tails, but he shut the door with a bang, catching my horns between it and the jamb; then he pushed with all his might and main from the inside, while I too pushed with all my strength from the outside, hoping to splinter the panel of the door, but instead, I broke my horn, and that is how I lost it and why I owe him a grudge.”

In the back yard of the engine-house stood a pump with a tub of water under its spout. Billy Jr. went to get a drink from it and, while quenching his thirst, heard one of the firemen say to two others standing in the yard, “I’ll bet you can’t do it, though every one knows he needs it badly enough.”

“Oh, it’s easy enough to wash him,” they answered, “the difficulty will be in untying him after it is done, for then he will butt the life out of the first man he catches.”

“Let’s draw cuts to decide who is to do the untying,” said a third.

“All right,” they answered; and before Billy even suspected what they were talking about, he found himself bound and tied to the pump so that he could only move his head slightly.

“So, it was me they were talking about,” thought poor Billy. “Had I only known, they would have had a fine time catching me, and more than one man would have had bruises and torn clothes.”

“Gee whiz!” he thought a moment later, “but this water is cold that they are pumping upon me, and won’t I get even with them all when I get loose!”

“Ouch!” cried one of the men, for Billy suddenly tossed his head giving him a bump on the nose. Then two of the men began to use brushes, one on each side, while a third kept the pump going; so, squirm and wriggle as he might, Billy got a generous supply of water and was drenched and shivering in spite of his efforts to free himself.

At last the firemen thought he was clean enough and they stopped scrubbing, while one of them said, “Well, Billy Jr., how do you find yourself?” Billy glared at him and shook his head in answer, but there was murder in his eye.

Next the men drew cuts to decide who should untie him and, strangely enough, it fell to the lot of the fireman who was always cracking his whip at Billy and tormenting old One-horn. When this man found that he was to untie Billy, he said, “Very well, boys, you all get inside of the engine-house and shut the big door, leaving the little one open for me to run through, but be sure to shut it quickly behind me or Billy will be inside as quickly as I am.”

“All right,” they answered, and away they went to do as bidden. Then the fireman who was to do the untying, approached cautiously and first untied Billy’s legs, leaving his head still tied to the pump; then with a sharp knife he cut the last cord with one swift slash and ran for the engine-house. Quick as he was, our Billy was not far behind, for with one bound he covered half the distance that lay between them while with another he went bang against the little door through which the fireman had but just disappeared.

The door was slammed shut in double-quick time, and had Billy’s head not been a hard one it must surely have split in two when it struck the door. However, it was made to withstand hard knocks and so, undismayed, he backed off to gather impetus for another rush; and then with a last plunge he split the door from top to bottom and landed in a confused heap right in the midst of the astonished firemen, who scrambled in all directions with more haste than grace, thinking only of getting out of reach of Billy’s avenging horns. One man climbed up on the high seat of the fire-engine, another ran down cellar, while the third, the particular one Billy was after, bounded up the stairs that led to the firemen’s bedroom, in which was an open hole with a greased pole coming up through the middle for the firemen to slide down when an alarm of fire was sent in. Billy was up the stairs and into the room almost as soon as the man himself, who in mad haste made a grab for the greased pole and down he went, leaving Billy rather doubtful as to what course to pursue; but quickly seeing the impossibility of a goat’s trying to slide down either a greased or any other kind of a pole, he bounded down the stairs again. The firemen had to all appearances disappeared, but Billy sniffed the air suspiciously and, glancing keenly first in one direction and then in another, he soon discovered his pet enemy seated on the hook-and-ladder wagon. This elevated position he wisely forebore attempting to reach and, instead, took up a position where no one could enter or leave the engine-house without passing him, and then he calmly laid himself down and waited.

But the fates were against Billy Jr. and he was obliged to give up his position or get run over. Just as he got comfortably settled, the fire alarm rang out and each well-trained horse rushed to his allotted place on engine, hose-cart, or ladder-wagon. As Billy saw the engine speed away with his enemy holding on behind and trying to get into his rubber coat, he said, “I have been cheated of my revenge to-day, but look out for to-morrow, you red-faced lubber,” and with this parting threat he trotted off to find his friend, old One-horn.

Just as Billy was coming out of the engine-house he came upon an old German couple leading a dainty little Nanny-goat by a string. Now, it had been a long time since Billy had met a pretty Nanny and his heart fairly thumped with joy as he pranced up to make friends with her, but here is where he made a mistake. In his joy at seeing her pretty face he had forgotten that he must needs be introduced before approaching a strange Nanny, and this young thing proved to be unusually timid, so when she saw a big strange Billy-goat running toward her as if he had known her since she was a baby kid, she promptly dodged behind her mistress. Billy, nothing daunted, followed after her. As his head appeared at one side of the old fat woman, Nanny’s appeared at the other, and the faster she ran the faster he followed. This they kept up until the poor woman was wound round and round by the cord, so that she could not move and, being equally as timid as her little charge, she at last fainted and fell forward on the walk, knocking Billy off of his feet and throwing Nanny down upon her knees. When Billy saw the mischief he had been the cause of, and also saw the old woman’s husband coming after him with a thick club, he wisely disappeared round the first corner, pondering in his mind over the foolishness of young kids in general and of this one in particular.

Billy, the Christmas Tree, and the Irishwoman.

THE night before Christmas, Billy Jr. was prowling around, feeling lonely and unhappy and wishing that he were back again with his father and mother for the holidays at least. Chancing to look through a window from which the light was streaming, what should he see but a beautiful Christmas tree! And more wonderful still, who do you suppose was trimming it? None other than old Santa Claus himself. Billy quickly stationed himself directly in front of the window and gazed with longing eyes upon the many attractive gifts being tied upon the tree. “Oh, my! Just wouldn’t I like to get a nibble at that big red apple hanging near the very top of the tree. Yes, and there is a fine cornucopia filled with all kinds of goodies that I could eat if I had the chance, and without a grain of salt, either.” But Santa Claus continued his work, utterly unconscious of the greedy eyes blinking at him from the outer darkness.

Presently Billy Jr. said, “I wonder whose house this is and how many children live here.” Almost as if in answer to his question a quick step sounded on the walk, and to his utter disgust, the hated fireman ascended the steps and entered the house with his latch key.

“Well, I declare,” said Billy, “it’s a shame for a man like that to have such a lovely Christmas tree. I’ll venture to say that Santa Claus does not know how unkind he is to animals or he would never help him to trim his tree.”

As soon as the last gift was disposed of, Santa Claus raised the window to keep the room cool so that the tree might not wilt, then he quickly put out the lights; and hark! I hear sleigh bells! Yes, there he goes with his reindeer over the tops of the houses. Swiftly and merrily he drives, stopping at every fireside to bring joy and some little remembrance of his good will to all.

“Now that he has gone and the window is open, what is to hinder me from climbing in and tasting a few of the Christmas dainties? I am sure a few would not be missed and I can see my way clearly, as that electric light across the street shines straight into the room, making it as light as day. There is a packing box just under the window that I can jump upon, and from that I can easily get into the window.” So, without any more ado Billy climbed in and at once began to eat the dainties he had coveted.

The first thing he took was the big red apple, then the cornucopia of nuts and candies, next he licked a lemon-candy dog, after this he ate a popcorn ball or two, then he spied a bunch of yellow carrots on an upper branch. These he must have (not knowing that they were made of silk and to be used as a pin cushion). So he raised himself on his hind legs and tried to reach them, but they were just beyond his nose. He gave a little spring, but missed again, and, worse still, his feet struck the table which the tree stood upon and over it went, burying the luckless Billy under it, while tin horns, candies, toy horses, and all, rattled round him in hopeless confusion. The noise awoke the fireman, and he and his wife came hurrying into the room, thinking to find burglars. They did not see Billy, for as they opened the door he jumped out of the window, and to this day they do not know who upset the Christmas tree.

One day when Billy was wandering idly about he saw one of the firemen walking across lots, carrying a bundle which he knew was intended for the washerwoman. Having nothing special to do, he followed and soon overtook him. The fireman gave him a chew of tobacco and was surprised to find that instead of spluttering, making a fuss, and spitting it out of his mouth, he chewed it like an old-timer and seemed to enjoy it, his beard going up and down in that queer way that men’s do when they are chewing.

“Well, Billy, how are you, and how has the world been using you since last we met? Let me see, the last time I saw you, you were trying to decide whether to come down a flight of stairs or whether to slide down a greased pole, were you not?” And with such pleasant converse the man and goat walked along side by side until they reached the washerwoman’s shanty. She was a jolly, red-faced Irishwoman, somewhat pie-crusty in temper, but nevertheless an excellent laundress, and all would have been well had not Billy accidentally tramped with his muddy feet on some fine clothes that had been spread on the grass to whiten. Seeing his footmarks upon the dainty pieces with which she had taken such pains, she snatched up a dipper of hot water and threw it at Billy, calling out as she did so:

“You miserable baste, if ye come around here with your dirty fate again, a-spilin’ my nice, clean clothes, I’ll brake yer ugly neck fer ye, that I will. Bedad it’s no fun doin’ thim fine petticoats agin. Sure and it ain’t.”