Billy Whiskers, Jr.
Date: 2021-08-08T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Dogs -- Juvenile fiction; Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Adventure stories; Friendship -- Juvenile fiction; Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction; Goats -- Juvenile fiction; Mexico -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction; Human-animal relationships -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: Billy Whiskers, Jr.

Author: Frances Trego Montgomery

Illustrator: W. H. Fry

Release date: August 8, 2021 [eBook #66006]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: The Saalfield Publishing Co

Credits: David E. Brown and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BILLY WHISKERS, JR. ***

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

Night Grows Tired of the Farm | 7
Westward Ho! | 14
The Collision | 21
Billy Jr. Gets a Taste of the West | 30
Billy Jr. as Leader of the Sheep | 37
A Fight with Wolves | 43
Billy Learns Something About Cowboys and Indians | 50
Billy Jr. and the Firemen | 62
Billy, the Christmas Tree, and the Irishwoman | 71
Billy Jr. Has Some New Experiences | 79
Billy Jr. and Stubby | 89
Small Adventures | 96
The Midnight Fire | 103
The Bull-Fight | 110
The Escape | 115
The Volcano | 123
An Unexpected Trip | 134

Illustrations

| PAGE
He Rushed upon the Treacherous Indian | Frontispiece
There Was a Terrific Explosion and They Felt Themselves Being Hurled Through Space | 20
He Felt Himself Pinioned on a Pair of Long Sharp Horns | 40
The Man Made a Grab for the Greased Pole and Down He Went | 60
Billy Gave One Leap Which Carried Him Ahead of the Dog | 80
In the Very Center Stood Little Duke | 100

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.”

Our Billy Jr., having the grace to see that he was at fault, and that his carelessness had been the cause of making unnecessary work to the irate Irishwoman, meekly turned away and returned home without waiting for the fireman.

The next day Billy thought he would stroll back to the washerwoman’s place to find out if she were still angry with him, and also to play some trick upon her (if he could) in return for the throwing of the hot water. He first peeked through a crack in the fence to see if she were hanging out clothes, but not seeing her, he crawled through a hole where some boards had fallen down and, keeping a sharp lookout about him, he caught sight of her coming from the kitchen. He kept out of sight until she disappeared within a neighbor’s house, then he walked straight to the kitchen door, stuck his head inside and, as no one was about, he boldly walked in to see if he could find what it was smelt so good. He had not far to look, for just before him stood a table, and on it was placed the mid-day meal which the washerwoman had prepared for her husband.

“My, but it smells good and I am as hungry as a bear,” and Billy, without a twinge of conscience, helped himself to the nice, mealy potatoes, cabbage and cornbeef, and the bread, even licking the crumbs from the plate, and leaving only the empty dishes for the poor hungry husband.

Just as he was taking a last reluctant lick at the cabbage plate, he heard some one coming and, in turning quickly to escape, he upset a clothes-horse full of clothes so that they fell upon the stove, where they soon caught fire, and the flames spreading to the woodwork of the shanty, the whole structure was in a blaze before you could say Jack Robinson.

Billy escaped without even singeing a hair and started on a dead run down the block. When he finally turned to look back, flames and smoke were pouring from windows and doors, while the poor laundress stood in the yard wringing her hands in sore distress, and watching all her earthly belongings go up in smoke.

“It’s too bad,” said Billy; “I did not mean to burn her home; I only intended to annoy her and eat her husband’s dinner; but, never mind, there go the firemen to the rescue. They will soon put out the flames,” and with a whisk of his tail Billy ran off to look for more mischief.

Billy was growing tired of the location in which he lived, so he decided to leave the firemen and seek a more fashionable quarter of the city, consequently he selected Knob Hill as being quite to his liking. When the firemen went to feed Billy, one morning, he was nowhere in sight. They whistled again and again, but there was no response. He came neither to luncheon nor to supper, but the men thought nothing of this, as he often absented himself for a day or two at a time, but when three, four, five, and six days passed and still Billy did not make his appearance, they felt sure that he had been stolen or had wandered off and been shut up in some barn. They waited a day or two and finally advertised for him by nailing up a large red poster illustrated with a handsome black goat, and offering a liberal reward for his return or for information as to his whereabouts.

Billy laughed way down in his whiskers when he saw the gorgeous poster and the representation of himself, and then he walked up and tore it off the boards. But while in the act of doing this he was recognized by a lot of boys as the goat advertised for, and they quickly pursued him, hoping to claim the reward offered. Need we say that before they had finished with Billy they wondered who in the world could want such a goat? As for themselves, they would have been glad to pay to get rid of him.

Two boys finally got a rope around his neck and thought themselves wonderfully smart for doing so, but they little dreamed that our Billy had allowed them to do it for a purpose of his own. As soon as the rope was securely tied and the boys had a tight hold of the ends, he started, and now the fun began.

Billy was a sturdy fellow, possessed of a certain grim sense of humor, so in a seemingly guileless, innocent manner he lowered his head and trotted along at a steady gait, choosing all the rough, stubbly places in the road, never missing a mud-hole, never passing an ash heap; through the one, over the other he went, dragging the boys after him, and when they attempted to hold him back or to stop him, he simply quickened his pace and went flying through narrow alleys, over and amongst heaps of rubbish, jerking them to their feet at times, or upsetting them with scant ceremony, as the case might be, so that finally rope and boys became hopelessly entangled, and the boys could not let go if they would, but were completely at Billy’s mercy. But, at last, the rope got twisted around a lamp-post and then it broke, giving the boys their liberty very suddenly. By this time they had lost all thought or desire for a reward and Billy left them with a satisfied twinkle in his eye and a subtle smile well hidden under his long whiskers.

Billy Jr. Has Some New Experiences.

ON his way back to Knob Hill, Billy passed a magnificent mansion with shades down and the gas lighted inside.

“Now, what in the world is the matter with the people who live there?” he mused; “are they lunatics that they close the curtains, shut out the sunshine, and then light the gas at three o’clock in the afternoon? And what is that long tunnel-like, canopied passage that extends from the curbing to the front door? I believe they call it an awning. It is not raining, what do they want it for? I must get nearer and see about it.” So Billy walked to the side opening in the awning and looked in. The front door of the house was wide open and he could hear the strains of a mandolin orchestra from within, while the perfume from many flowers was wafted to his nostrils. Not a person was in sight.

“How strange,” thought Billy, “to leave a front door wide open and no one to watch it! Guess I will walk up and see how it looks inside.” Accordingly he walked bravely up to the door and looked in.

Such gorgeousness he had never even dreamed of. There were flowers and palms in bewildering profusion. There were draperies and furniture of Oriental magnificence, and hundreds of electric bulbs with shades of varied colorings which lit up the scene, while soft, dreamy music made one feel as if he were indeed in fairyland. As in a dream Billy walked up the broad flight of stairs leading to the second floor and from the first room to the right he could hear voices and subdued laughter, while from an adjoining room came the admonition, “Girls, stop chattering and finish dressing, for your guests will soon be here.” Then Billy knew that an afternoon reception was to be held here and that was why the shades were drawn and the gas lighted; for it is not fashionable to have sunlight at these affairs. Complexions and gowns look better by gaslight.

When Billy heard the voices, he turned and walked into the front room. This apartment was furnished in keeping with the magnificence of the parlor floor. White woodwork, mahogany chairs and table, a high four-poster bed with satin and lace coverings, silver toilet articles on the dresser, silver and cut glass vases everywhere filled with pink roses and white hyacinths, and again, a multitude of soft-tinted lights which enhanced the beauty of everything the eye rested upon.

Billy Gave One Leap which Carried Him ahead of the Dog.

“The scent of the flowers reminds me of the clover in the meadows. I must have a taste of them.” So Billy tasted and then ate one entire bouquet, for the flavor was so fine he could not stop at one bite. Then, beginning to feel the effects of his wearisome escapade with the boys, and lulled by the warmth, light, perfume, and music surrounding him, he jumped up in the middle of the beautiful bed, and stretched himself out on the exquisite pink satin and lace coverlet preparatory to enjoying a good rest. Nothing was too good for the use of Billy Jr.

When the first guests entered the room they scarcely glanced at the bed, going first to the mirror to adjust their hair and repowder their noses. Suddenly, one of the ladies dropped the comb with a clatter, her eyes nearly dropping from their sockets and her face blanched with surprise and fear, for, reflected in the mirror, she saw two long horns suddenly raised from what she had supposed to be a black fur coat, and, screaming at the top of her voice, she turned and stood staring with open-eyed wonder at the sight before her. Her screams brought the entire household scrambling to the scene. She could not explain but dropped into a chair, completely overcome. Words, however, were needless, for there stood Billy in the middle of the great four-poster, self-convicted, and quite as surprised as any of the onlookers. For a moment he did not know which way to turn, but finally, seeing a door opposite the one in which the people all stood, he jumped for that and from there made his escape into a small room which connected with the hall. Down the steps he went, upsetting the fat butler with whom he came in contact on his way down and, without pausing to offer his apologies, hastened into the street and hurriedly left the neighborhood.

The goat episode was the main topic of conversation that afternoon among the fair five hundred, and Billy would have been flattered could he have heard himself described as “fierce-looking as a lion and as large as a bear.”

After Billy Jr. left the house where the reception was being held, he wandered around not knowing where to go. He began to feel lonesome and hungry and almost wished he had stayed with the firemen and old One-horn, even if his life with them was a monotonous one.

Presently, all thought of lonesomeness and hunger was driven from his mind by the sight of some boys coming around the corner whipping a large St. Bernard dog that was hitched to a little cart. When they saw Billy, they cried:

“Oh, see the dandy goat. Let’s catch him and hitch him up to your cart, Ned, and have a race. What do you say, is it a go?”

“You had better let them catch you, stranger,” barked the dog, “or they will club and beat you when they do get you.”

“Not until I have given them a chase,” bleated the goat, and with that he stood as if he were going to be an easy catch, until they tried to put their hands on him. Then he stood on his hind legs and whirled round and round like a circus-goat, facing them all the time between the whirls, so the boys did not know how to get hold of him in this position, besides they were afraid he would butt or kick them.

All this pleased the dog immensely and he laughed until his sides shook. Presently, Billy Jr. heard cart-wheels on the sidewalk and he knew Ned was returning with his cart. As the boy approached, Billy Jr. converted his hind legs, which he had been using as stilts, into kickers. Then with a bleat that meant “Oh, no you don’t,” he jumped over the low iron fence beside which he was standing and disappeared round the corner of a big brown-stone house that stood in the middle of a large yard, while, of course, all the boys came tagging after. Hero, the St. Bernard dog, forgetting the wagon he was hitched to, jumped too, breaking loose as he went over the fence.

As Billy rounded the corner of the house, he ran into the laundress, who was carrying in her arms a big basket of clothes piled so high that she could not see what hit her, until she found herself flat on the ground with her basket overturned beside her.

“Now, see what yees have done wid yer ugly black goat a-goin’ and upsetting all me clane clothes, and the missis that particular as never was. Bad luck to yez. Take him away,” she called, as she saw Billy coming toward her again. Billy expected to run round the house and come out on the street, but he was unable to do so, as the opposite side of the yard was enclosed by a high fence which he could not jump; and here the boys cornered him. He was going to butt them and get away, but the St. Bernard barked to him to let himself be caught and then they could have a race and see which could run the faster.

When Hero proposed this he, of course, thought he could beat Billy and not half try, or he would not have suggested it. Billy Jr., on the other hand, was sure he could beat Hero, so he let himself be caught and led into the front yard where he was soon hitched to Ned’s cart, while Hero was re-harnessed and hitched to another by Will, his master.

Soon the dog and goat were ready for the race and they were led into the middle of the street, Ned and Will each in their respective carts, and the other boys standing around ready to follow them when they started. A boy stood at the head of each animal, letting go when the word was given. Both the goat and the dog started at such a pace that the boys lost their hats and came near being thrown backwards out of their carts. Billy gave one leap which carried him ahead of the dog and jerked the cart along on its back wheels. Away down the street they sped, dodging wagons whose drivers stopped and stuck their heads out at the sides to see the fun. Hero, who was fat and short winded, seeing that he would have to do his best, ran with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting for breath, while Billy Jr., who was slender and in fine condition, closed his mouth and ran swiftly as an antelope, coming out way ahead.

“Hurrah for you, Billy! I shall take you home with me and keep you, for I consider you a good friend and you shall have the best supper you have had in a long while.” Billy Jr. bleated his thanks and added that it could not be given to him any too quickly, as he was both hungry and thirsty. “Before I go I want to tell Hero that I would like to have another race with him some other day when he is in better trim, for I beat him too easily this time.”

Hero thought Billy was bragging about his victory, so he said the reason he had not beaten was because his collar was so tight that he could not get his breath. “Besides,” he added. “Will is much heavier than Ned.”

“Oh, if you think that is the reason,” said Billy Jr., “come out to-morrow and I will run you a race without any carts for a couple of miles instead of one, and then we shall see who will win.”

This was all the conversation they had, for Ned led Billy off, fearing the other boys might want to take him away from him. They said he had no more right to the goat than they had, as he was evidently a stray goat.

“That’s all right,” said Ned, “but none of you fellows have a wagon, so I guess I will keep Billy until his owner turns up and claims him, and I am ready to fight the first boy who meddles or tries to take him away from me.” This settled the matter, for Ned could whip any of the boys in that gang.

Billy Jr. stayed with Ned for about a week and every day they had a race, or the boys played they were firemen and harnessed Billy to their hook-and-ladder wagon and made him pull it to where they played the fire was. After a day or two, Billy thought this was too much like work; there was no fun in it for him, besides Hero would not speak to him since he had beaten him in every race they had run, so he decided to go away and look for another home.

It was three nights after this before he found a chance to slip out, as he was shut in the stable every night in one of the box stalls. This night the coachman forgot to latch the sliding door to his stall, so when the man went to supper Billy pushed it open and slipped out into the coach-house where, as luck would have it, he found the door open into the alley, and out of it he went, not stopping or turning around until he reached the stable where Hero lived. He would not have stopped here, but Hero smelled goat as he passed and barked to Billy, “Is that you, Billy Jr., out at this time of the night? You must be running away.”

“You are right, I am running away and I’m never coming back, so good-bye, Hero; when I see you again I expect you can beat me, for by that time I shall be so old that any dog can do so.”

“You impudent goat, I shall not wish you good luck after that remark.”

Billy, chancing to look back down the alley, thought he saw a boy running in his direction and, for fear it might be Ned, he hurried on and turned out of the alley into the first street he came to. He had gone but a few feet when he saw one of the boys that always played with Ned coming in his direction, so he dodged into the next alley and hid behind a garbage box until the boy had crossed out of sight, then he came out and began to look for some friendly stable that he could enter. It was beginning to storm and soon the rain came down in torrents. Vivid lightning flashes were followed by loud rumblings of thunder, and although Billy was a hardy goat, still he was deathly afraid of thunder storms. He quickened his pace, passing stable after stable, but all were closed to keep out the rain and not even a back yard gate was open so he could run in and get under a wood-shed or porch.

It grew darker and darker each moment; the lightning became more frequent and more vivid, until poor Billy was all in a tremble. Suddenly he spied an over-turned packing box lying close to a stable, with just room enough for him to squeeze in between. “Well, this is better than nothing,” he thought, so he squeezed himself in and was about to lie down when he heard a low growl, and the next flash of lightning revealed to him another occupant of the box—a little yellow dog with a stubby tail and blazing eyes.

Billy and Stubby.

WELL, what are you doing here?” said Billy.

“That is the question I was about to ask you,” replied the dog.

“I came in to get out of the rain because all the other places were shut,” said Billy Jr.

“And I came here because I live here. This is the only home I know,” answered the dog.

“Oh, if that is the case I will be going, as I do not wish to intrude.”

“You are perfectly welcome to stay and share the shelter of my home, poor as it is,” said the dog, whose name was Stubby.

“You are exceedingly kind,” replied Billy. “I will gladly stay if only for your company. I hate being out alone in a thunder storm.”

After this they became very well acquainted and prolonged their talk far into the night, exchanging confidences and experiences.

As you all know Billy’s history, I will not repeat what he told the dog, but will confine myself to the sad story of Stubby’s life.

Stubby was undoubtedly of common parentage with not a drop of blue blood in his veins, but he had plenty of good red blood, so he did not care, only he often thought it would be very nice to be petted and fed as thoroughbreds were. This wish, however, only came on days when he had nothing to eat but a piece of mouldy bread from the garbage box and nothing to drink but water out of a mud puddle. On other days he would not exchange his lot for that of a King Charles lying on a satin cushion on my lady’s lap, for what did the King Charles know of real life or freedom, shut up in my lady’s boudoir, or taken for a walk at the end of a silver chain?

No, he would not change his free, roving life and home in a packing box for all the satin cushions in the world. He felt that he should sicken and die shut up in a home, fed on bonbons, and only allowed to run to the length of a short chain. To be sure it must be nice to have for a mistress a pretty lady who would stroke you with her soft white hand, or a sweet little girl to romp and play with, but one could not have these joys without the evils of being shut up in an overheated house, and that he knew he could not stand.

He had been born under a barn standing in the suburbs of San Francisco. His father he had never seen and his mother was a small yellow dog like himself, only she had a tail that curled in a beautiful manner once and a half times round, of which she was very proud. His tail had curled in this same way until some bad boys caught him and cut it off.

“Oh, I tell you, Master Billy, you don’t know what it is to knock around the world and be only a poor little yellow cur that every one delights to kick and stone, although he has done nothing but mind his own business. You see, though you have traveled a great deal and seen more of the world than I have, still you have not bucked up against its cruel side as I have. One reason is because you are so big and so strong that people dare not hurt you, while as for me, I have been so small and so homely that any bad boy or man could be cruel to me and not be afraid of getting hurt for it.

“I had had my eyes open only for a few days when my mother told my brothers and sisters and me that if we wanted to get on in the world we must not look for justice, or bite when we were abused, and she said that we must endure all things, be patient and return good for evil. I remember this talk distinctly because it was the last we ever had with her, for the very next day a boy crawled under the barn and took all my brothers and sisters and myself in a basket and carried us to the river bank, where he tied a stone to each of our necks and then threw us into the water to drown. Somehow, he did not tie my string tight enough, and when he threw me into the river the weight of the stone untied the string and let me loose, so when I reached the bottom, instead of staying down like my brothers and sisters, I came to the surface and then swam ashore. I never knew I could swim until I found myself in the river, and then, instinctively, I struck out as if I had been swimming all my life, just as all animals do when thrown into the water for the first time.

“When I reached the shore the boy had gone, for when he saw us disappear under the water he thought we would never come up. I rested on the bank in the sun until I got dry, quietly crying for my kind little mother, for I knew I never could find my way back to her. I saw a house a short distance away with a barn and barnyard at the back, so I crept under the fence into the back yard and went to sleep beside a straw-stack. For supper I had only a little milk that I lapped up from the ground where the girl had spilled it when milking. Of course I got more dirt than milk, but I was afraid to go nearer to the house for fear of being abused.

“The next morning the hired girl came out to milk the cow and I made up my mind I would try to make friends with her, so I commenced by giving a little low bark to attract her attention as she sat milking. She turned around quickly and said, ‘My goodness, how you scared me! Where did you come from, you poor forlorn little thing?’

“Her voice reassured me, so I ran straight up to her and she patted me and said, ‘There, don’t look so frightened, no one is going to hurt you.’ When she went to the house she called to me to follow her, which I was very glad to do, and she gave me a saucer of nice, warm milk, which I was very much in need of, being both cold and hungry.

“Well, from that day until I was stolen by a tin peddler, I stayed there and was petted and fed as if I had been a dog with the bluest of blue blood in my veins. But what a life I had of it with that lying, cheating tinker, until he at last sold me for five dollars to a young lady who had taken a fancy to me, mostly from pity, I think. From this lady I learned many tricks and was dressed in a blue blanket and tied with blue ribbons, which I tried to lose off or else rolled in the mud with, every chance I got. Some boys stole me from her, finally, and they cut off my beautiful curly tail, the only thing about me that was beautiful, although the young lady used to say, ‘Stubby, you have the loveliest eyes I ever saw in a dog’s head. They certainly look as if you had a human soul, and you make me wonder what you are thinking about.’

“After the boys stole me, my luck went from bad to worse until I had to hide in the daytime and only look for food at night. I was stoned and kicked so that at last I gave up trying to find a good master or mistress and I hid in alleys, sometimes sleeping out in the rain and cold without any shelter but the sky or anything softer than a board to sleep on, so when this old packing box was thrown out into the alley I hailed it with delight and have lived in it ever since.

“You see my story is only a pitifully uninteresting tale beside your life history.”

“Forget the past,” said Billy Jr. “That is gone, and in the future we will live together and see what good we can get out of life. What do you say to leaving the city and going out into the country? It is much cleaner there, while there is less chance of being abused or of getting shut up where we won’t be free to come and go as we please.”

“Very well,” said Stubby, “I am longing to get into the country once again. What direction shall we take?”

“South,” replied Billy Jr. “Let us try to find our way to Old Mexico, where it is nice and warm the year round.”

“That is a splendid idea,” said Stubby. “I, too, am tired of the cold.”

“It is too bad that dogs can’t live on grass and the things that goats can, for then you would not have to go hungry so often. I believe I could live on old shoes and straw if I could find nothing else to eat, although I don’t say I should relish them much,” said Billy.

“Oh, I can live on very little, so don’t worry about me,” said Stubby.

At the first peep of dawn the two friends left the old packing box and started on their long journey to Old Mexico.

Small Adventures.

SIX months later we find Billy Jr. and Stubby near the City of Mexico, on a large stock-farm, where are raised fierce, blooded bulls intended for the bull-fights that take place every Sunday in the City.

It would take too long to tell of all the troubles and mishaps the two friends met with on their long journey from San Francisco to Old Mexico, but with all their trials they enjoyed it, for both were good travelers and made the best of things without complaining when matters could not be helped.

Once Stubby came very near getting drowned in a fierce mountain stream that had become swollen from recent rains until it was twice its usual size. Caught in one of the whirling eddies, he was spun round and round until, dizzy and sick, he could not open his eyes, and had not strength enough left to swim against the strong, swift current. He was just giving up hope when he felt some large object strike his side and, opening his eyes for an instant, he saw Billy Jr., who swam out to rescue him.

“Climb on my back, Stub,” Billy cried, “and I will swim to shore with you.” Stubby did as he was bidden and soon they were shaking themselves dry on the bank.

Another mishap, one in which Stubby was the hero and saved Billy Jr.’s life, occurred one moonlight night out on the plains. They were both sound asleep when Stubby was suddenly awakened by hearing a peculiar rattling sound and, looking about, he was horrified to see a snake just ready to spring upon Billy, who was sleeping peacefully. With a bound, Stubby had the reptile by the neck and in a second had shaken him to death. In fact, he had given him such a crack that the snake’s head nearly flew off. Small dogs have often been known to kill snakes in this way. Billy Jr. was very much surprised when he awoke and saw a big snake lying under his very nose. Stubby had dragged it there to see what Billy would do when he saw it. Had it been alive Billy would surely have been bitten, for he was too much surprised to move. He stared at it with blinking eyes to see if his sight was not deceiving him. When he discovered that it was really a snake he ducked his head and hooked it away.

“Did you see that rattlesnake, Stubby? I had a pretty close call, didn’t I?”

“Not so very,” said Stubby, “for dead snakes do not bite.”

“That was no dead snake, for it was not there when I laid down, and dead snakes do not crawl.”

“You are right there, Billy Jr., but that snake was dead and I ought to know, for I killed it and dragged it there just to scare you.”

“Oh, you did, did you? and where did you find it?”

“I found it about three feet from your head ready to spring upon you, so I made a spring first and killed it before it had time to bite you. After I killed it I put it under your nose for fun.”

“You are a brick, Stubby, that is what you are; a regular gold brick, and I will not forget this in a hurry. I hope some day I shall have a chance to do you a good turn or save your life.”

“Well, don’t lay awake nights trying to think of some way to help me, for you have already saved my life once, when you pulled me out of the whirlpool,” said Stubby.

One day when they were trotting along the foot-hills of the Sierra Madre mountains, tired and footsore, hungry and cold, feeling thoroughly discouraged and as if they should never reach their destination, they thought they saw a curl of blue smoke rising from the base of one of the foot-hills in among some tall cacti.

“Look, Billy, look,” cried Stubby, who had been the first to see it; “that smoke means some man is building a fire to cook his supper by. I have seen a little curl of smoke like that before and it always means that, at this time of the day. Let’s go and see if he won’t share with us. I am so hungry for a piece of meat I feel as if I could almost kill some one, if I had to, to get it, and I am so thin, I am sure if you listened you could hear my ribs rattle. Raw prairie-dog meat and roots are not very filling food for a dog, and I feel as if the only thing I had had to eat since we left Frisco was those ground bird eggs I sucked a week ago. You did not like them and said they were too stale and that if I waited half an hour they would hatch out and I could then have birds instead of eggs. You must be just as hungry, for buffalo grass may sustain life but it is dry stuff to eat, while the cacti leaves are juicy enough to eat, but the thorns on their edges run into one’s nose and mouth and make them bleed.”

While Stubby had been doing all this talking, they had cautiously approached the spot where they had seen the smoke rising and soon the delicious odor of juicy steak was wafted to their nostrils by the evening breeze.

“Oh, Billy, do you smell that steak? Don’t it smell better than anything you ever smelt in your life before?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I would prefer carrots or turnips. You forget I am not a meat eater. I am a vegetarian, but for all that I can appreciate your feelings. Look between those two tall cacti. There is an Indian as sure as I am alive!” said Billy.

“By the Great Black Bear!” said Stubby, “you are right and I see my finish, for if I go nosing around here, they will catch me and make soup of me in a twinkling.”

In the very Center Stood Little Duke.

“Have no fear, Stubby. I know the Indians well. They are fond of dogs and they never kill and eat them unless they are starving. There is no danger of that now, for from the smell of cooking meat which we get, they have evidently stolen a stray cow or steer from some herd and are now cooking it whole over a camp-fire for the entire band. There is too strong a smell to emanate from a small piece, so if I am right you are in luck, and likely to have your fill before the night is over. They only eat the best part of the animal and throw the rest to their dogs.”

This proved to be the case and after the Indians had eaten their fill, they rolled themselves in their blankets and went to sleep. Billy and Stubby sneaked about and found the dogs at the feast. At first these dogs were going to protest, but Billy called to them, “The first one of you that yelps or objects to our helping ourselves I will rip open with my horns.” As he looked big and fierce enough to carry out this threat, they thought he meant what he said and so let him and Stubby alone and fell to eating in silence.

“Now, go ahead, Stubby, and eat your fill, while I wander around and see if I can’t find some sweet herbs, for the squaws generally have a lot hanging outside of their wigwams drying, along with sweet grass and onions. Oh, the very thought of onions makes my mouth water! so good-bye for awhile, but if you should want me, give the signal by three short barks.”

The next morning the Indians were delighted to find a large black goat and a smart, little yellow dog. They camped here for some time, making baskets and blankets, and then started on their way to the City of Mexico to sell their wares. Billy and Stubby stayed with them until they passed the stock-farm before mentioned in this chapter, and then they left, made friends with the people on the farm, and became a fixture there for some time.

They had been on this farm three months when the incident I am about to relate happened.

The Midnight Fire.

ON THIS farm were large barns where the blooded horses and bulls were housed at night, each in his own stall, and over all were great hay mows where the hay and feed for them were kept.

Billy was fastened in one of these stalls every night, because previous to this he had eaten all the blossoms off the lemon tree, which was the pride of the mistress; chewed the bosom out of his master’s dress shirts for the starch that was in them; nibbled the trailing vines off the hanging baskets on the front veranda; and chewed the sleeve out of the cook’s new red calico wrapper that was hanging on a line outside to dry. Stubby, however, was allowed to rove around at will, but he always preferred to be locked up with Billy, as it was so lonesome when left alone outside.

As luck would have it, on the night of the fire he preferred to remain outside to gnaw on some bones he had hidden and to have a talk with a little hairless Chihuahua dog that lived on the farm. Had it not been for this, Billy might have been burned to death and this story brought to an untimely end, besides Stubby would have lost the chance of making himself a hero.

It was near midnight. His feast and chat with the Chihuahua dog were over and he was lying asleep just outside of Billy’s stall. Suddenly he was awakened by something hot dropping on his head and paw. Jumping up to find out what had hurt him, he saw flames pouring out of the open windows of the hayloft, and as he looked the frightened faces of two tramps appeared at the windows and then disappeared, only to reappear at another window where there was less fire. This window they climbed into and stood prepared to jump, but hesitated before taking the risk from that height, until the flames drove them off and they half jumped, half fell, to the yard below, where they dropped uninjured upon a pile of straw. They had scarcely landed when Stubby was after them, barking and biting at their legs, while they took to their heels in double-quick time, glad to get off the premises. Stubby did not follow them, for he knew that he must hurry back and awaken the household so some one would come and unlock the stall door where his beloved Billy was fastened. He ran back to the barn and commenced to bark, telling Billy that the barn was on fire.

“I knew it, Stubby. I have been smelling fire and smoke for the last half hour, but did not know where it came from. My stall is so dense with smoke I can’t see, and if it were not for this strong rope around my neck I would be out of here, for I could easily butt down the door, but this rope is as tough and strong as iron. I have been chewing it ever since I smelt the smoke, but it still holds together. I have pulled until my neck is nearly severed from my body and still it won’t break or slip over my horns. The horses and cattle are all in a panic and are snuffing and pawing like mad.”

“Keep on chewing, Billy, while I run to the house after help. Everything is quiet there; the night watchman sneaked to the city when every one went to bed and he has not returned, and at the house all are fast asleep, never suspecting that their property is being destroyed and their cattle in danger of cremation. Oh, why did the watchman leave his post?” And Stubby literally flew to the house and barked and barked, jumping against the door to make more noise and calling to the little Chihuahua dog to help arouse the sleeping inmates.

Every minute the flames rose higher and higher and the blazing building lit up the landscape for miles around. But the inmates slept serenely. Stubby ran to the back of the house and upset a lot of milk pails, knowing they would make a terrible clatter as they rolled about on the stones, then back again he ran to his master’s door, growling as before. At last a sleepy voice called out:

“If you are after a cat, let her alone and lie down; don’t arouse the whole household with your noisy barking.”

“At last I have awakened some one,” said Stubby, “and I shall make more noise than ever,” so he ran toward the barn and back again, barking furiously all the time, so that his master would know something was wrong there, then he again went to the door and growled and whined.

“There must be something the matter or Stubby would not make such a fuss,” said his master to his wife. “I’ll just get up and look out of the window,” and as he raised the window shade the whole room was flooded with the red glare of fire.

“My God! wife, the barn is on fire and I have been lying here like a log while that noble dog has been trying to awaken me, and I trying to drive him off, thinking he was chasing cats!”

Stubby’s master only waited to step into a pair of trousers and slippers before he followed Stubby on flying feet to the barn, just stopping long enough on the way to ring the alarm bell that hung on a high pole and could be heard all over the farm. This unusual sound in the dead of night awoke all of the farm-hands, and they came running along as fast as their feet could carry them, rubbing their sleepy eyes, wondering what danger menaced them, for this bell was never to be rung except in case of fire or danger.

One glance at the blazing barn drove all sleep from their eyes and they rushed toward the fire; their one thought being to save the horses and bulls; the bulls that were to fight in to-morrow’s fight and which had been reared and fatted for this express purpose. Apart from the great financial loss, it would spoil to-morrow’s sport for thousands and thousands of Spaniards and Mexicans who were anxiously awaiting the great event. These men, being Mexicans, did not think it cruel to sacrifice bulls and horses and men even in these fights, which are national affairs; but we think if the poor animals knew what was awaiting them on the morrow, they would not have tried so frantically to escape death by fire.

As Stubby and his master were approaching the barn, one end of the roof fell in—that end where Billy’s stall was, and on seeing this Stubby gave a howl of despair; but the next second was blinking to see if his eyes were not deceiving him, for who should come out of the stall door with a bound but Billy! The goat had at last succeeded in chewing his rope in two, and, that done, it was an easy matter to butt down the door. Better yet, the bulls, seeing this opening, had broken out of their stalls and were following Billy. The roof had caught on some strong cross-beams and had not fallen on the cattle in the stalls.

Soon all the bulls were out, but to get the horses out was another matter, for, as you know, horses will remain in a burning building in spite of everything, unless you can cover their heads and lead them out, and even then it is a hard matter to get them to stay out. With the help of all hands, however, they succeeded in saving the horses, but none too soon, for as the last one was led out, the whole barn crushed in and a few minutes more was nothing but a red heap of burning timbers. Stubby’s master was so thankful for the escape of his expensive horses and valuable bulls that he did not give the loss of the barn a second thought, and when it was all over he called Stubby and said:

“Boys, do you see this little dog? Well, if it had not been for him all my valuable stock would have been buried under that bed of burning coals and I should have been a poor man, as all my wealth is tied up in horses and cattle. It was he who awakened me and gave the alarm of fire. For this he shall have a collar of gold with this motto inscribed upon it, ‘To Stubby for saving forty lives this collar is affectionately dedicated by his master, Carlos Otero.’ Stubby can always wear this collar as Billy does his, telling of this brave deed.”

The night watchman, hearing what had happened through his neglect, never came back, as he was too ashamed and afraid to face his master.

Every one wondered how the barn caught on fire; some thought the watchman had set it on fire, others thought one of the stable boys had been careless about smoking and a spark from his pipe had set fire to the hay; but no one but Stubby really knew about the two tramps whose pipes had done all the mischief.

The Bull-Fight.

TWO days after the fire all was bustle and confusion at the farm, for this was the day of the long anticipated bull-fight that was to occur in Mexico City and for which these especial bulls had been raised and fattened. It was barely sunrise when the little procession started for the city; the object in starting so soon being to avoid the crowd of people anxious to view the bulls before they reached the arena.

Billy Jr. and Stubby went along as a matter of course—they must see everything going—and they had no intentions whatsoever of missing the great fight, particularly as the odds were in favor of their favorite bull. Our Billy knew thoroughbreds when he saw them and could pick the winners. To-day’s favorite was strong of bone, supple of joint, solid of flesh, with a quick eye and a temper like a firecracker. He was handsome to look upon with his fine, short, glossy black coat and beautifully curved horns with tips like needles, that could pierce a horse’s skin and rip him open in the approved Mexican style. His eyes were large and brilliant and his nose with its sensitive nostrils as red as the cactus blossom of his native country. And how he could bellow and paw the ground when mad! Yes, Billy was sure he would win against all odds.

After they reached the city, he could hear the big bull stamping around in his stall and bellowing for his breakfast. His royal highness was not accustomed to be kept waiting, he was always fed on the dot—just at sunrise, and here it was twelve o’clock and not a bite, not even a whisp of hay. Had his master forgotten him? What an outrage after his long walk in from the farm! What in the world could be the meaning of such treatment? He little realized that he was being starved for a purpose.

“I tell you what it is, Billy,” he grumbled, “if that crazy stable boy don’t bring me something to eat soon, I’ll toss him over the barn.”

“Hark! what is that? I hear music. Don’t you? And the rumble of many feet as the crowd of people take their places in the amphitheatre.”

“You are right, Billy, the band is playing; it is almost time to begin. Well, if I don’t get something to eat before very long I’ll give them some sport worthy the name when I get into the arena. Shut up in here, treated so badly, and starved to death—I’ll make somebody pay well for it.”

“Listen,” said Billy, “they are clapping and stamping, impatient for the fight to begin.”

“They can’t begin any too soon to please me,” said Little Duke, which was the name of Billy’s favorite bull. “There goes Black Jack on his way to the ring. Billy, just hear the crowd cheer and shout! He must have stepped into the arena. He is a nasty one to handle when he is angry. If he gets a chance to dig his horns into one of those toreadors or horses, the man in the moon pity them and have mercy on them, for Black Jack won’t! It will be the last fight that man or horse ever sees.”

Bull after bull passed by their stall on their way to the arena, but none ever returned; and the band played and the people cheered until at last some one came for Little Duke, the flower of the flock. He, like the others, was led into the ring to be teased and tantalized, tortured and tormented until, crazy with pain and blind with fury, he would rip horse after horse open in his mad rage to get at the toreador who was goading him on with pricks from a long spear. And yet the blood-thirsty Mexicans yelled for more.

But all things must come to an end; and Billy thought that it was high time for this particular fight to come to an end right here. He had heard a bellow of rage from Little Duke, followed by a groan of agony. This was too much for Billy. When a friend called for help he could not stay away; so with one bound he was out of his stall and bang! against the little door that separated him from the arena. This gave way with a crash, and with a rush and a plunge Billy bounded into the ring.

The first thing he saw when clear of splinters and dust was a huge ampitheatre packed from the lowest to the highest row of seats with people, until the faces made a human curtain. In the arena lay disemboweled horses and slaughtered bulls. In the very center stood Little Duke, bleeding from a hundred wounds, but still unsubdued and defending himself nobly. There he stood with head erect, eyes blazing, and nostrils quivering, ready to kill the first man or horse that attacked him.

In a twinkling Billy took in the situation, and before the audience or fighters knew what had happened, Billy had tossed one toreador to one side, nearly breaking his back; had put another to flight; and then made straight for the horseman who had so cruelly tortured Little Duke. Just then an attendant opened a door, the man and horse escaped, and the ring was cleared.

Billy, going back to see how badly Little Duke was hurt, licked his nose in sympathy, and told him to brace up, for the fight was over for that day. This pathetic scene seemed to touch even the hard hearts of the Mexicans. They began to bid for the ownership of the goat and to cheer and cheer until they could have been heard many blocks from the amphitheatre.

At last Billy, perceived that he and his friend were standing alone in the centre of the big ring with every eye upon them. The next thing he noticed was that a little stubby-tailed yellow dog was circling round and round them, barking in great glee. The fight was over and Stubby had come to congratulate them.

Here ends the great bull-fight of the ninth of May, nineteen hundred and four.

The Escape.

AN hour after the bull-fight was over, Billy and Stubby could have been seen running first down one street, then down another, then through an alley, and lastly through the suburbs, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. They were running away from their master and his men who were trying to drive them back to the farm, but Billy and Stubby decided they did not want to return since all their friends, the bulls, but Little Duke whose life Billy had saved, had been killed.

They kept running until they were sure they could not be overtaken and then they stopped for breath and to decide where they wanted to go next. While nibbling the leaves from a bush, Billy, chancing to look up, saw straight ahead of him, looming up above trees and housetops, a high mountain out of which a column of smoke was curling like a black plume against the clear, blue sky.

“Look! Stubby, see what a big bon-fire there is on that mountain.”

“That isn’t a bon-fire,” said Stubby. “That is a volcano and its name is Popocatapetl. It sounds as if they were saying, poke-a-cat-with-a-paddle. I expect someone at sometime poked a cat with a paddle on that mountain and that is how it got its name, something after the manner of the Indians who give their children the name of the first thing the mother sees after they are born. I suppose the chiefs Blackhawk and Whitehorse got theirs in that way, as for Mud-in-the-face, some one must have thrown mud in the mother’s face at the critical moment.”

“Oh Stubby! You are too funny for anything. Where did you learn so much?”

“Oh! from listening to what the people were saying round me when I was out with my master.”

“You are a very observing dog and it would be a good thing if more people followed your example, then they would learn a great deal even if they never went to school.”

“How far do you suppose it is to that volcano?” asked Stubby.

“I’m sure I don’t know. I have given up guessing distances in this locality or in any mountainous country. That reminds me, did you ever hear the story of the joke on the Englishman who came to Colorado Springs and started to walk to the mountains he saw back of the hotel, thinking he could reach them and return before breakfast? I know you have for every one has.”

“Go ahead and tell it. I want to hear it.”

“These mountains proved to be over a hundred miles away, though they looked only five. So the next day when he went for a walk, coming to a little stream, that one could easily step over, he instead sat down and commenced taking off his shoes and stockings to the surprise of his friend who was with him who asked what he was doing.”

“I was fooled on your distances yesterday, but I won’t be to-day. This may look like a narrow stream, but if I try to step over, it will broaden out and prove to be a river, so I’m getting ready to wade across.”

This story made Stubby roll over on his back and fairly howl with mirth, not only because it was funny but because he had heard it told a hundred times and no two people had told it in the same way, and he wanted to hear how Billy would tell it.

The cunning Stubby took good care not to let Billy know that he had ever heard the story before, for good friends as they were, Billy might not like to be made fun of, besides his horns were sharp.

Stubby’s rolls and laughter were cut short by hearing a great clatter of horses’ hoofs on the hard road behind them.

“Hurry and hide, Billy. It must be a party of Mexicans racing on their way home from the Bull-fight.”

Stubby was right. They were Mexican cow-boys out on a lark. When they saw Billy’s head sticking above the bushes, one said in broken Spanish, “Now for some fun,” at the same time unfastening his lasso from the pummel on his saddle where it always hung and with a twirling tongue, uttered this cry “Cha-r-r-r-ah!” He swung the lasso three times round his head and as he did so the loop widened and lengthened until with a hissing sound it descended, encircling Billy’s neck and the next second he was jerked over the bush he was hiding behind and dragged at a fast run after the cow-boy who was spurring his pony to catch up with those who were ahead.

“Well! Carlos, what have you there?” called one of the boys, when he saw him dragging Billy behind him.

“I’ve got a dandy billy-goat. Now you fellows see what you can lasso and when we get back to the ranch we will raffle off what we catch or cook them for supper.”

“Good for you Carlos. That will be sport. There, I see something now I’m going to lasso,” meaning Stubby, who was following after Billy as fast as he could, for he would have followed Billy into the jaws of death, if need be.

Poor Stubby was very much surprised to feel a rope tighten around his neck and the next minute to feel himself lifted from the ground to the saddle before the cow-boy where he was held as they galloped on in their mad race toward the ranch where the cow-boys lived.

It is astonishing what some cow-boys can do with a lasso and how expert they may become in its use.

Presently, one of the boys spied a big turkey-buzzard sitting on top of a cactus-plant and with a whoop like an Indian, he was after it.

Before Mr. Buzzard had time to spread his wings and fly, he felt something hot twist around his neck, and the last thing he heard in this world was a merry laugh go up from the cow-boys at the idea of lassoing instead of shooting birds.

The cow-boy was going to throw his buzzard away but the others told him to bring it along as every one was to show, when he got back, what he had caught with his lasso.

Soon a terrible squealing was heard just ahead where one of the cow-boys had ridden, and when the others caught up to him they found he had succeeded in lassoing a brown and sandy-colored pig.

“Good for you Jake. Now we will have some roast pork and goat chops for supper and we will throw the bones to the turkey-buzzard.”

They did not know then that the big buzzard’s neck was broken.

They were now so near the ranch, it began to look as though some of the boys would fail to find anything to lasso, and they had agreed that those who had not succeeded in getting anything by the time they reached the ranch should clean and cook whatever had been caught.

“Well, I’ll be switched if I’ll do that,” said a great, tall cow-boy. “I’ll find something or die.”

As he said this, his eyes detected a gray something sneaking away behind some rocks, so he gave chase, not knowing what it was going to be. When this gray object heard his pony’s hoofs on the stone, it got frightened and left its hiding place behind a great boulder and took to its heels. Whizz! went the lasso, but instead of catching the wolf, for that is what it was, it coiled around the boulder, and the wolf had several leaps and strides the advantage. His failure to catch the wolf the first time, only made the cow-boy the more determined to have it at all costs in the end, and then the chase began: Over the rocks, round clumps of cacti, across ditches, the cow-boy steadily gaining, until with one long, mighty sweep of his arm the lasso stretched out and fell over the gray wolf’s head and he was captured.

Then like Billy, he was made to trot along behind the cow-boy’s pony until they came into the corral at the ranch. Once there, the cow-boys threw their saddles and bridles up on pegs in the stable and turned their ponies loose in the corral with a bunch of alfalfa to feed on. And now for the fun of seeing the boys, who failed to lasso anything, clean and cook the pig and goat. A coin was tossed to see which should be killed first. The head stood for the goat and the tail for the pig. The coin was flipped and up came tail so it was poor piggy’s fate to be killed first.

While two of the boys went to get a big iron kettle to boil water to scald him with, so they could scrape the bristles off, the others thought they would have some fun teasing Billy, but little did they suspect that their goat was the same goat they had seen that afternoon at the Bull-fight, clear the entire ring of horses, riders and toreadors, or they would not have been so anxious to tease him.

Billy bleated to Stubby to stay near him as he was going to watch his chance to jump the wall of the corral and make his escape before they had time to kill him and cut him up into goat chops.

“I am going to appear very gentle until they take this lasso off my neck and then we will see ‘Who is who and what is what.’”

Stubby barked back “All right, I will watch you and if you get into a fight, I will help you by biting the legs of whoever bothers you.”

“Say, Sam, that is too nice a looking goat to cut up into chops. I say we keep him and turn him loose with our goats on the range. Come here Mr. Billy and I will take the lasso off your neck.” He walked up to Billy and slipped the lasso off, giving his whiskers a parting pull. That settled it. Billy’s docility disappeared in a minute and before the cow-boy had taken a step he felt something sticking into him as if he had sat down on two darning needles and these needles were pushing farther and farther into him and urging him along at a fast trot until he felt a sudden boost and he found himself sitting on top of the corral wall, while the black goat landed on the other side followed by a little stubby-tailed yellow dog and both disappeared down a deep ravine and were lost sight of, and what is more, no one followed them or tried to bring them back.

The Volcano.

AS soon as Billy and Stubby were sure they were not being followed they stopped to rest and to form new plans.

“Stubby, what in the world are you carrying in your mouth?”

Dropping it so that he could answer, Stubby replied, “A nice, large piece of beef.”

“Beef! Where did you get any beef, I should like to know.”

“Well, you see I can’t live on grass and roots as you can and as I was pretty hungry, I took my chance of getting stoned and stole this piece as we ran by the smoke-house. Didn’t you notice the little house in the clump of bushes near the side of the corral wall?”

“No, I did not see it, or know that you were behind me until just now, for you did not bark, and I expected I would have to wait awhile for you to join me, but now I see that you had your mouth so full you could not bark. You go ahead and make a good supper of your steak and I will make mine of these tender, green leaves.”

As they ate they talked of their future and Billy said he was getting tired of Mexico as it had too much sand, cacti and other stickly plants and not enough water and grass.

“Now, I say, we get out of it as soon as we can, but how we are going to do that is a puzzle to me, for it seems to me the further we travel south from California the hotter it gets, and I say instead of traveling south as we have been doing, that we change our course and keep to the west. In that way we will come to the Pacific coast.

“When we get there we can follow the shore until we come to some town or city where we can take an ocean steamer and be carried away anywhere. Who cares where? just so that we get away from this hot, dusty country. Besides, I am very anxious for another ocean voyage and always have been since Day and I came from Constantinople.

“My! Stubby, how I should like to see my sweet little sister and dear father and mother again. And would it not be strange if we should happen to get on a ship bound for Boston? I can tell you, if we should have such luck I would not let the grass grow under my feet until I was back on the farm again.”

“I believe you are homesick,” said Stubby.

“You’re right I am.”

“Well, I don’t blame you for I, too, would be homesick if I had ever had a home with a sister and dear parents in it, but you see I have never known what it was to have a home or any one to care for me.”

“Just see how that old volcano is smoking now, and what a bright reflection it throws on the sky above it!”

“It is due west from here. What do you say to our going to the top of it and seeing what a volcano really does look like at close range? It may be our only chance to see one for they don’t have any in the United States.”

“Say we do, and perhaps, it is so high, we can see the ocean from its top. We shall then be able to see how far we have to travel before reaching the coast.”

“That is a good idea and we will follow it out. Now let us lie down here and spend the night and start early in the morning before the sun gets too hot.”

Ten minutes later they were both asleep with Stubby curled up under Billy’s nose. He always got as close to him as possible for company.

It took our travelers several days to reach the volcano and its summit, and those days were days of hardships, with little to eat or drink, and both were looking tired and thin when we met them again within a few feet of the opening of the crater.

“Billy, I think sight-seeing is pretty hard work, especially when you have to walk all the way and nearly die of thirst and hunger. These hot cinders and hardened lava are burning and cutting my feet all to pieces and I wish I had hoofs like yours.”

“Well, if you wish you had my hoofs, I wish I had your short hair, for I am almost suffocated with my long coat, besides the air in this altitude is hard to breathe. One gets out of breath so easily and feels as if there was nothing to the air. Phew! what’s that terrible odor? It smells as if a whole factory of sulphur matches had gone off at once. Hark! What is that rumbling noise? It sounds like thunder, but it can’t be that for the sky is without a cloud and is as blue as blue can be. Say, Stubby, did you feel the earth shake then? If we were down on the level I should think it were an earthquake. Gracious! did you hear that explosion and feel the earth shake again? We had better get out of this.”

Just then the smoke rolled away for a minute and they saw they were within a few feet of the top so they decided they would not give up, bad as the sulphur and smoke were, until they had taken one peep into the crater.

This one peep nearly cost Stubby his life, for just as he had crawled to the very brink and was looking down, down, down into the very bowels of the earth where lava was boiling and steam hissing, an extra whiff of sulphur arose from the boiling, seething mass below which choked and strangled him so he could not move.

Billy had jumped back barely in time to escape it and was just starting on a run down the cone away from this dangerous place when he heard a little whine and saw Stubby drop over on his side as if dead. With a bound Billy was back, and grabbing him by the nape of his neck, as a cat carries her kittens, he carried him down the volcano’s side to safety.

It took Stubby a long while to come to and when he did so he found his poor little torn and bleeding feet as well as his nose resting in the cool sands of a little stream, and all he had to do, if he wanted a drink, was to stick out his tongue and let the water run through his mouth.

“Well, Stubby, are you feeling better?” he heard Billy say when he tried to open his eyes to see where he was.

“How in the world did I get here? Can you tell me that? for I had given up the hope of ever getting off that hot volcano again.”

“Indeed, I can, for I carried you every step of the way in my mouth, and when I got here I thought every tooth in my head would drop out, and instead of the little light weight dog I started with, I thought I was carrying an elephant, you got so heavy.”

“Billy, old fellow, you are a brick. That’s what you are.”

The next day Stubby was all right, and noticing that this little stream flowed toward the west, they followed it for two reasons. One, because they thought it would eventually run into the ocean; and the other, because they were afraid to leave it for fear of not finding any more water, and it was impossible to travel in this dry, hot country without having lots of water.

This little stream proved a perfect godsend to them as it quenched their thirst, cooled their aching feet and bodies and saved them many a long climb as it always kept its course and flowed straight on.

Had they followed the mountain trail it would have led them up hill and down and over many stones and brambles. Now, when they came to a precipice that shut off their path by its steep side they took to the stream and either waded or swam around it. In this way they reached the seashore days before they had expected to and with happy eyes they looked over the peaceful, blue bosom of the Pacific Ocean.

“Stubby, I feel as if I had escaped from prison to get out of that lonesome country full of insects, snakes and centipedes. Oh! how refreshing this salt breeze smells.”

“Yes, but I smell something sweeter to doggie nostrils and that’s the smell of frying meat. There must be a fisherman’s cottage around that bend. Good-bye, I’m off for some of it, and I mean to have some, even if I have to steal it from the red hot stove.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry and I’ll go with you.”

“No, you had better stay here. You are so big they will see you, while I am little and so near the color of the sand that I can sneak in and not be seen, and after finding out who lives there and getting a piece of meat, I will come back and tell you all about it.”

“Very well, but bring me back a bunch of carrots or a cabbage if you find any for I am as tired of eating leaves as you are of going without meat.”

Stubby crept cautiously round the bend and then laid down behind a bush out of sight so that he could watch and see who lived in the house. On the doorstep sat a stoop-shouldered man smoking a stubby pipe, while in front of him on the sand played three or four little children, bare-headed, bare-footed, with only faded calico slips on.

Through the open door Stubby could see the wife and mother leaning over the stove cooking, yes, he knew it by the smell, the selfsame steak he was longing for. He sneaked cautiously and quietly round to the back of the cottage and there—Oh, be joyful—he spied the remnants of the heifer that had been killed so that the family could have a taste of fresh meat, which was as great a treat to them as to Stubby, for they generally lived on salt meat and fish, which the father caught, for he was a fisherman, and took to a little town ten miles up the coast for shipment to large cities.

After Stubby had eaten all he wanted of the fresh meat he ran back to Billy and told him there was a small garden of vegetables back of the cottage where he could go as soon as it was dark and have a feast.

The tired, sleepy heads of the fisherman and his family had hardly touched their pillows when a large, black goat could have been seen in the midst of a vegetable garden, eating cabbages, turnips and lettuce, while a little yellow dog sat on a brown speckled rock and licked his chops after a meal of fresh beef and cold boiled potatoes he had found just inside the kitchen door, nicely chopped for breakfast.

Presently Stubby gave a sudden, sharp bark of alarm which made Billy throw up his head to see what was the matter, when what should he see but the rock Stubby was sitting on, walk off with four legs with a queer flat head sticking out from one side. Stubby jumped off in a hurry and was nearly bitten in two by a quick snap of the jaws of this queer looking beast, bird or fowl. They did not know which to call it as they had never before seen or heard of a snapping turtle, and that is what this was. Stubby had taken its shell for a large stone, as it had its head and feet drawn in out of sight when he jumped upon it.

This turtle was a huge one that the fisherman had caught the day before and was going to take to town in the morning to sell to a hotel-keeper to make turtle soup of.

The next morning Billy and Stubby kept out of sight until the fisherman had loaded his wagon with fish, vegetables and his turtle, and had started on his way to town. Then they ran out of their hiding place and followed him, taking great care to keep out of sight and in this way they soon came to the seaport town and followed him down to the wharf. When they reached the town they both walked under the wagon so that people would think that they belonged to the fisherman and would let them alone.

When they arrived at the wharf where lay a vessel ready to sail for San Francisco, the fisherman got off his wagon to unload and then, for the first time, he spied Billy and Stubby who were still under it and he was very much surprised to see them there I can tell you.

One of the sailors said, “What will you take for your goat?”

Without letting on that Billy was not his or that he had never laid eyes on him before, he said, “Well! as he is pretty fine, big goat, I can’t let you have him for less than five dollars.”

“All right. It’s a go,” said the sailor, who had lots of money at present, having just received his pay and not having had a chance to spend it.

“And what will you take for the dog?” asked another.

“Well, I don’t know as I care to sell him,” said the fisherman, thinking if he held off they would give him more money.

“You can’t expect to get much for him,” said another. “He is too tarnation homely.”

“That’s a matter of taste,” drawled the fisherman. “Looks ain’t everything in this world, and you can’t find a smarter rat dog along this coast.”

He threw this remark in for he knew it would catch the sailor as the ships are always infested with rats.

“Well, I’ll give you a dollar for him.”

“No, I couldn’t think of selling him so cheap,” and he climbed into his wagon, as if he were going off and did not care to part with him.

“I’ll give you two dollars and a half, and not a cent more.”

“I don’t care to sell him, but as he has cleaned out all the rats at my place I guess I’ll let you have him.”

The sailors gave him the money for the goat and the dog, and he drove off a happy man, but he did not let the grin show on his face until he was out of sight of the sailors.

Now this was a great streak of luck for Billy and Stubby, and was just what they wanted, so they followed their new masters on board without giving any trouble and by night their ship had sailed out of port and was on her way to San Francisco.

An Unexpected Trip.

AFTER an uneventful trip, they sailed one day into the beautiful harbor of San Francisco, called the Golden Gate, and Billy and Stubby were looking forward to a good time on shore, and planning what they would do, when, all unexpectedly, after landing, they got mixed up in a bunch of cattle, and were driven aboard a big boat that was being loaded with live cattle for Japan, and try as he would, Billy could not extricate himself from them or avoid the long whips of the men who were driving them. As for Stubby, he could easily have slipped away, but he preferred to follow Billy, and that is how our travelers found themselves bound for Japan without a day’s rest on shore after they came up the coast from Mexico to San Francisco.

This was not at all what they wanted, for they were tired of the ocean, but they were helpless, and what was worse, Billy stood in danger of being killed and sold for mutton chops, for goat chops are often sold for such. Stubby was afraid he, too, would be killed and made into sausage, for he had heard that the Chinese eat dog meat, and if they did, why not the Japanese? So with heavy hearts they saw the shore recede farther and farther from them and the Golden Gate sink into the blue waters of the Pacific, leaving them nothing to look at but water, water all around them.

The only thing that varied the monotony of the long trip to Japan was their short stop at the Sandwich Islands, where Billy and Stubby were taken ashore for a run by the cook and his assistant, who were both Japanese and were returning home to fight for their country against Russia.

Since starting they had made great pets of both Billy and Stubby and had often given them meat and apples, and got permission for them to run on deck once in a while. Otherwise they would have been shut below with the cattle and the trip would have been unendurable to the independent, free-roving Billy.

One dark night as the steamer was ploughing the waters and they were laying in a little sheltered nook on deck, they heard the captain say to the mate:

“We are getting pretty near Port Arthur now and it is going to be mighty ticklish sailing in these waters; with the two armies, the Russians and the Japanese, banging away at each other from their battleships and the waters under us filled with hidden mines and torpedo boats. I tell you, I don’t like these submarine things floating around. Who knows but one might get loose, float off and perhaps blow up the wrong boat.”

And that is just what did happen, for while the captain was talking, a terrific explosion was heard, louder than one hundred cannons going off at once, and for a second, the heavens were lit up with a weird light in which were seen huge pieces of debris flying in the air like the eruption from a volcano, while, almost in the same second, they began falling with a sissing sound into the waters beneath, and all that was left of the Russian’s battle ship was a few splinters of wood and the mangled bodies of her officers and men floating on top of the water.

It had all been so sudden and was over so quickly that it was hard to realize that such a terrible disaster could have occurred in so short a time.

“Now, what did I tell you about the danger of sailing along here? One of these submarine mines or torpedo boats caused the blowing up of that war-ship and I tell you what, we had better get out of here as fast as ever we can or we too may be blown sky high before we know it.”

Consequently, they cautiously and softly steamed away from Port Arthur and kept a sharp lookout for every Russian boat that might be sailing round looking for some boat of the enemies to capture, but they escaped them all.

When they landed, Billy’s and Stubby’s friends, the Japs, took them home with them where they were fed and nicely housed in their back yard, and while Billy and Stubby were making friends with the beautiful pheasants that were shut in the same yard, their Japanese friends went to military headquarters to join the army and when they came back they were dressed in their uniforms with orders in their pockets to report at headquarters the next morning.

For several days after this, Billy and Stubby saw nothing of them but they were fed and looked after by a pretty, rosy faced, little Jap girl who wore a pretty flowered kimona and wore her hair in funny looking, little, smooth puffs with toy fans sticking out of it.

They had been in the yard about a week and Billy was getting tired of such close quarters with nothing to see or do, when he heard a military band marching down the street on the other side of the high fence. The little Jap girl who had just brought them some water, when she heard this, dropped her pan and ran to the gate in the fence and looked out to see the soldiers go by. Of course Billy turned and was through the gate in a flash with Stubby close at his heels and down the street they ran in the direction the band had taken, while the poor little Jap girl ran after them wringing her hands in dismay and calling to them to come back, but they only ran the faster.

Billy was as bad as any little Irish Paddy about liking to follow a parade or a band and when he caught up to it he found it was leading a regiment that was marching to the front. When Billy and Stubby dropped back to the rear who should they see but their Japanese friends, the last men of the last ranks.

When Billy spied them he made up his mind in a twinkle to follow and go to the war with them. This he bleated to Stubby and of course Stubby thought it would be great fun and agreed to go, too.

When the regiment had left the city’s cheering crowds behind, Billy and Stubby crept up closer to the soldiers and trudged on quietly after them until Stubby gave a quick little bark which one of the Japs recognized and turning his head, he saw with surprise Billy and Stubby marching behind him.

He tried to drive them back by shooing them and scolding but what cared Billy and Stubby for a shoo or a scold when they were going to the war. As the Japs could not break ranks and go for the goat and the dog, they had to let them follow, which they did, mile after mile until the regiment broke ranks for the night and went into camp.

By that time, they had traveled too far to send them back, so that night when the Japs threw themselves down by their camp-fire, a large black goat and a little yellow dog lay down with them.

And for many days and weeks and months they did this, sticking to the regiment whether it chanced to be in the thick of the fight or waiting for marching orders, and strange as it may seem, whenever this regiment was in a fight, it always won and the two Japs had fought so bravely that they had been promoted until they were no longer privates but were colonel and captain, and their regiment was known as the “Black Goat and Yellow Dog Regiment,” while Billy and Stubby had become their mascots and here we will leave them to enjoy their honors.

Billy Whiskers Series

(Trade Mark.)

By Frances Trego Montgomery

BILLY WHISKERS

Billy Whiskers is a mischievous creature, full of wickedness and folly, whose antics have furnished fun for a million readers. The child enjoys every moment after he is introduced to the irresistible fellow.

BILLY WHISKERS’ KIDS

“Recounting the adventures of Day and Night, twin kids of the nursery-famous Billy Whiskers. This is a stirring tale of travel and trouble and mischief that will delight the little world.”—Galveston News.

BILLY WHISKERS, JR.

“Night, now grown, is known as Billy Whiskers, Jr. and as he has all the personal traits which made his father’s career one round of surprising activity and astonishing adventure, the son will be quite as well beloved as his sire.”—Chicago Record Herald.

BILLY WHISKERS’ TRAVELS

In which the ever active Billy tours Europe, each city in turn furnishing ample opportunity for fun for sight-seeing Billy.

BILLY WHISKERS AT THE CIRCUS

“Everything goes well enough with Billy until a circus comes to town, and then just like the small boy, he made up his mind to go come what might and cost what it would. He made preparations for a week and went, there to meet with all manner of adventures, becoming so infatuated with the life that he joined it.”—Des Moines Capital.

BILLY WHISKERS AT THE FAIR

In going to the Fair, Billy Whiskers didn’t leave a single prank at home. He had more fun to the minute than most others have to the hour. What he didn’t do and didn’t see is not worth relating.

Each volume bound in boards, cover and jacket in colors, six full-page illustrations in colors, with scores of text drawings, quarto, postpaid, per volume $1.00

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO., AKRON, OHIO

The Billy Whiskers Series

TRADE MARK. REGISTERED IN U. S. PATENT OFFICE.

DICKY DELIGHTFUL IN RAINBOW LAND by James Ball Naylor

Dicky is truly a delightful youngster, who ventures over Rainbow Road, to find himself the guest of Grandfather Gander and Grandmother Goose in the Land of the Immortals.

Dr. Naylor knows how to please boys and girls, for the story is brimming over with humor, rapid movement and lively conversation.

THE LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN by James Ball Naylor

The Little Green Goblin comes from Goblinland in his tiny featherbed balloon, administers a goblin tablet to Bob Taylor, a dissatisfied boy. The tablet shrinks him to goblin size, and away the two sail for Goblinland, which is the place where you do as you please. Upon their arrival, Bob—but to tell more would be to spoil a good story.

WITCH CROW AND BARNEY BYLOW by James Ball Naylor

Barney fell to wishing down in the haylot, along came a crow and gave him a magic penny—he would always have that much but no more. Many strange things then happened—things which cured Barney of that bad habit of wishing.

SQUEAKS AND SQUAWKS FROM FAR-AWAY FORESTS by Burton Stoner

“Mr. Bull has done some remarkably good work for Squeaks and Squawks, both in colors and halftones. The color work is superb.”—Grand Rapids Herald.

Charles Livingston Bull illustrates this charming book of nature stories, in which the animals speak for themselves.

JIM CROW TALES by Burton Stoner

Jim Crow was the pet of a farmer boy. He was very wise and knew all about the ways of the beasts and birds, and told them to his friend—the most interesting anecdotes of the forest folk.

TEDDY BEARS by Adah Louise Sutton

“A fanciful story of the doings of a little girl’s toys, which get into all sorts of pranks while people sleep. The doings of this interesting coterie form a pleasing tale for children.”—Pittsburg Post.

“Full of the brand of fun that tickles children.”—Portland Oregonian.

A LITTLE MAID IN TOYLAND by Adah Louise Sutton

Eating a piece of magic cake, a little girl becomes diminutive and goes to live among the dollies in her doll house. One day she steps through the back door and finds herself in Toyland, and thereafter adventures come thick and fast.

A CHRISTMAS WITH SANTA CLAUS by Frances Trego Montgomery

Santa carries two children to his home in his wonderful sleigh. They meet Mrs. Santa, are shown a royal good time, and then Santa brings them back when he makes his annual trip.

EACH BOOK BOUND IN BOARDS, QUARTO, ILLUSTRATED IN COLORS. Postpaid for $1.00

The Saalfield Publishing Co., Akron, Ohio

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BILLY WHISKERS, JR. ***

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Table of Contents

- Billy Whiskers Jr.

- CONTENTS

- Illustrations

- Night Grows Tired of the Farm.

- Westward Ho!

- The Collision.

- Billy Jr. Gets a Taste of the West.

- Billy Jr. as Leader of the Sheep.

- A Fight With Wolves.

- Billy Jr. Learns Something about Cowboys and Indians.

- Billy Jr. and the Firemen.

- Billy, the Christmas Tree, and the Irishwoman.

- Billy Jr. Has Some New Experiences.

- Billy and Stubby.

- Small Adventures.

- The Midnight Fire.

- The Bull-Fight.

- The Escape.

- The Volcano.

- An Unexpected Trip.

- Billy Whiskers Series

- The Billy Whiskers Series

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE