the yard, and there he was backed up between the shafts of a little wagon that had been made for Fleabite. The dog capered and barked and made a run or two at Billy, but the goat only shook his horns at him and Fleabite ran under the barn. The dog was jealous. He did not like the wagon, but, rather than have the goat hitched up to it, he wanted to haul it himself.

He was backed up between the shafts of a little wagon.

"It's no use, Fleabite," said Caspar, "you might as well make friends with him. Anyhow, you're not big enough to haul this wagon, and you always lay down in the harness. You can come along behind, though. I'm going to drive in to Kasedorf and show my goat to cousin Fritz."

At first Billy was afraid that Kasedorf might be the village where he had torn up the spring-house, and he had very good reasons for not wanting to go back there, but when they clattered out of the gate Caspar turned his head in the other direction, and he was very glad of this. He was so pleased with his new master that he went along at a splendid gait, pulling Caspar nicely up one hill after another. Fleabite ran along, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead, and sometimes slipping up at the side and snapping at Billy's nose; but Billy had only to shake his horns in the dog's direction and Fleabite would run about a mile before he would take it into his foolish head to try that trick again.

Pretty soon they went whizzing down a little hill and into a far prettier village than the first one. Just as they turned into the main street, along came a flock of goats driven by two men and half a dozen boys, and who should Billy see in that flock but his own mother! Of course he called loudly to her. She heard him, and though she was in the center of the flock, quickly made her way to the edge, where she kissed him. She had no time to tell him where she was going, nor he to tell her all that had happened to him since he had fallen from the cliff, but it was a joy for each of them to know that the other was still alive and in good health.

Before they could speak further, a sharp whip cracked over them and the lash landed on Billy's nose. He jumped back with the pain and again the whip cracked. This time Billy's mother got the sting of it. Billy looked around, and there, handling the whip, was fat Hans Zug! Billy, mad as a hornet, whirled and was going to make for Hans, when Caspar, who had jumped out of the cart, hit him a sharp crack across the nose with his fist, and it pained Billy so much that the tears came to his eyes and he could not see. Before he could make another start for Hans or run after his mother, Hans had passed by, and Caspar's uncle Heinrich, who had come up in the meantime, had Billy by the horns and was holding him. Billy struggled as hard as he could to get away. He wanted to butt Hans Zug for whipping his mother and himself, and he wanted to go with his mother if he could, so he was a very sulky goat.

Even when Caspar took him to his uncle's house and gave him some nice, tender vegetables and potato parings to eat, he was very sulky as he stood there munching his dinner, so that when Fleabite came up and stole some of his potato parings he butted that poor dog plump into a barbed wire fence. You must not suppose that Fleabite liked potato parings. He would not eat them at home, but he was such a jealous dog that he wanted to eat up Billy's dinner, no matter what it was. After dinner Caspar rubbed Billy's sleek coat until it was all clean and glossy, then he let Fritz have a ride in the cart. Fritz drove proudly up into the main street, and there, standing at the corner, talking to another man, was Hans Zug!

"Yes," Hans was saying in English to the other man, "I go me also by America next week. I got such a brother there what is making more as a tousand dollars a year mit such a goat farm, and I take me my goats over. I got a contract mit another Switzer what owns the land. Yess!"

Billy did not wait for any more, but raised up on his hind feet. Fritz tried his best to hold him back, but he might as well have tried to hold the wind, and Billy, feeling the tug at his reins, gave a jump that toppled Fritz over backwards out of the cart. He gave one more jump and landed with all his might and main against poor, round Hans, and as his enemy went down Billy jumped on him and ran up one side of him and down the other side. Poor Hans got up and clasped both pudgy hands on his stomach.

"A thousand lightnings yet again!" he exclaimed as he looked sorrowfully at his print in the dust. Hans had been butted that time for Billy's mother; now Billy whirled and came back to give Hans one for himself, but this time Hans was too quick for him and dodged behind a tree, letting Billy butt the tree so hard that it stunned him, and before the fiery tempered goat could make up his mind what had happened to him, Caspar came running up and grabbed him by the horns. Billy could have jerked away from Caspar, but he felt that the boy was now the best friend he had, and he did not want to hurt him, so he let Caspar pat him on his sleek sides and climb into the cart behind him.

"You'll have to walk, Fritz," said Caspar loftily. "It takes a good strong boy to manage this goat."

Billy laughed at this, but when Caspar "clicked" for him to "get up," he trotted right along without making any fuss about it.

At the next corner a carriage turned into the main street, and in it, on the seat back of the driver, were a man and a boy, the latter being of about Caspar's age.

"Oh, papa, do look at that beautiful goat!" exclaimed the boy. "Please buy him for me, won't you?"

Mr. Brown shook his head.

"I don't mind you having a goat, Frank," he said, "but I can get you just as good a one when we get back to America. There is no use in carrying a goat clear across the ocean with us when there are so many at home."

"All right," said the boy, obediently, and the carriage drove on.

Poor Billy! His heart sank. He had just heard from Hans that his mother was going to America, and he did hope that this fine looking man would buy him and take him there, too, so that he would have more chance to find his mother; but now his chance was gone. Was it though? He was not a goat to give up easily, and he made up his mind to try once more.

Billy stopped dead still to think it over. He simply could not bear to let this man get away without another trial, so suddenly he whirled, nearly upsetting the cart, and ran after the strangers. He soon caught up with them, and then, slowing down, he trotted along at the side of the carriage, showing off his beauty as much as he could.

"Oh, papa, there is that beautiful goat again," said the boy. "How I do wish I could have him! Of course you can buy me one in America, as you have promised to do, but they say that there are no goats in the world so fine as the Swiss goats, and I am sure that I never saw any so pretty as this one."

The man smiled indulgently at his son and stopped the carriage.