CHAPTER I.

The Heif Goats lived close to the Heifen Glacier, one of the largest in Switzerland. In fact, their Chalet, or the cavern which they christened by that name, overhung the steepest precipice, and was inaccessible to anyone except its proprietors.

“It is such a comfort to be secluded in these disturbed times,” the Goat-mother often remarked to her husband. “If I lived near a high road I should never know a moment’s happiness. The children are so giddy, they would be gambolling about round the very wheels of the char-a-bancs, turning head over heels for halfpence, before I could cry Goats-i-tivy!”

The whole glacier valley swarmed with the kin of the Goat family. There were the bond-slaves who worked for the peasants, and the free Goats who possessed their own caves, cultivated their ground industriously, and lived greatly on the sandwich papers left by tourists in the summer-time.

“Such a treat, especially the light yellow sort with printing, that always has crumbs in it,” said the Goat-mother. “It makes a delicious meal. We generally have it on fête days.”

The family of the Heif Goats consisted of the Heif-father, his wife, and their four children, Heinrich, Lizbet, Pyto, and Lenora.

The young Goats had been brought up with some severity by their parents, who had old-fashioned notions with regard to discipline; and three things had been especially enjoined upon them from their infancy. Always to speak the truth, never to mess their clean pinafores, and last, but not least, never to play with the Chamois!

“They are too wild and frivolous,” the Goat-mother used to say, with a nod of her frilled cap. “Such very long springs are in exceedingly bad taste. The Chamois have no repose of manner.”

Under this system the children grew up very well-behaved. The daughters worked in the house, the sons helped their father; and in the evening they all descended to the Glacier to collect any remnants of food left by the endless stream of visitors, who all through the summer toiled up to the Eismeer, and down again to the Inn on the other side of the valley.

These travellers were a perpetual source of interest and amusement to the Goat family.

They could never quite make out what they were doing, but the Heif-mother finally decided that their journeys must be some religious or national observance.

“People would never struggle about on the ice like that tied to each other with ropes, too! unless it was a painful duty,” she said. “I consider it very praiseworthy.”

Sometimes the young Goats in their invisible eyrie, would go off into shouts of merriment as a group of excursionists crawled slowly into sight; the ladies in their short skirts and large flapping hats, alpenstock in hand, clinging desperately to the guides as they ascended every slippery ice-peak.

But on these occasions the Goat-mother always reproved them.

“Remember,” she would say severely, “that because people are ridiculous you shouldn’t be unmannerly. They can’t help their appearance, poor things! They may think themselves quite as good as we are.”

“Well, at all events, we don’t look like that,” said Lizbet. “I am sure you would never allow it.”

The principal news from the outer world was brought to the Heif family by a Stein-bok pedlar, who wandered about the country with his wares, and was so popular that he was a friend of all classes, and supplied even the Chamois with their groceries and tobacco.

He generally arrived at the Chalet on the first of every month, and spread out his wares on the grass plot in front of the cave, while the Goat-mother and her children walked up and down, and bargained good-humouredly for anything they had taken a fancy to.

CHAPTER II.

It was a bright sunny day, and the Goat-mother sat with her daughters at the door of the cavern. The Goat-father had gone off by himself to get some provisions at a village on the opposite side of the Glacier, and Heinrich and Pyto were digging in the fields at the back of the Chalet; when the Stein-bok, in his well-known brown cloth coat, appeared panting up the narrow pathway.

Throwing himself down on a stone bench, he tossed his Tyrolese hat on to the ground, and fanned himself with his handkerchief.

“Good morning, Herr Stein-bok. You seem exhausted,” said the Goat-mother.

“I am, ma’am, and well I may be. Five miles with twenty pounds on my back is no joke, I can assure you.”

“Shall I bring you a glass of lager-beer?” enquired the Heif-mother.

“It would be acceptable, ma’am, and then I will tell you my news. You’ve heard nothing of the Goat-father, have you?”

“Nothing,” said the Goat-mother. “I am beginning to feel very nervous. I never knew him to stay away two days before.”

The Stein-bok looked round darkly.

“I have something to tell you,” he whispered. “Prepare for bad news. The Goat-father has been captured.”

The Heif-mother gave a wild shriek, and fell back upon Lizbet, who was peeling potatoes in the doorway.

“When where how who what?” she cried frantically. “Tell me at once, or I shall faint away.”

“Be calm, ma’am,” said the Stein-bok soothingly. “I heard it from the Chamois, who have a habit of bounding about everywhere, as you know. Your dear husband reached the middle of the Glacier in safety, when being hampered by a satchel and a green cotton umbrella he fell in attempting to jump an ice-pinnacle, and sprained his foot so severely that he was unable to move. Though he bleated loudly for help, no one came except some huntsmen who were in search of Chamois. They picked him up, and dragged him to the Inn on the other side of the valley, where he was locked up securely in a shed, and there he is at the present moment.”

“My brave Heif in prison! He will never, never survive it!” cried the Goat-mother, shedding tears in profusion.

“Oh yes he will, ma’am,” replied the Stein-bok, “they’re not going to kill him, their idea is to take him down to the village.”

“That they shall never do!” cried the Heif-mother, starting up, “not if I go myself to rescue him! Go, Lizbet, and call your brothers. We must consult together immediately.”

Lizbet darted off, and the Stein-bok continued.

“I have still something else I must let you know, ma’am. As our great poet observes

’Whenever green food fades away,
Some dire misfortune comes the self-same day.’

In plain words, troubles never come singly. I discovered while having a friendly game of dominoes with the Head Chamois, that they intend to seize upon your house next Tuesday, in the absence of the Heif-father.”

“And to-day is Friday!” shrieked the Goat-mother. “Oh! this is hard indeed!”

“Compose yourself, ma’am, and listen to my advice,” said the Pedlar. “You lock up your house, or leave me in charge with Lizbet and Lenora, and you and the two other children start off at once to ask the help of the Goat-king. He is a mild, humane creature, and will very likely order out a detachment of the ‘Free-will’ goats to help to defend your household.”

“That is the only thing to do,” said the Goat-mother mournfully. “I certainly know the way, for of course I have always been to the yearly Goat Assembly, but I always started three days before the meeting, and went down the back of the mountain, over the slopes. I don’t know how I’m to manage the short cut.”

“Oh, easy enough, ma’am,” replied the Stein-bok; “you’ll get on very well. Don’t go in goloshes, though, for they will be sure to catch on the nails. I wouldn’t wear my waterproof mantle either too large for a walking tour. Put on a shawl, and tie it round you.”

By this time Heinrich and Pyto had hastily dressed themselves in out-door costume, and the Goat-mother was rushing about her house, collecting an extraordinary number of things, which the Stein-bok had some difficulty in persuading her not to take with her.

“Not sugar nippers, ma’am, I beg; or your large work-box, or the mincing machine! Quite useless on a long journey; and your best cap you won’t want, I assure you.”

“I thought I might perhaps wait a moment in the ante-room and put it on before entering the presence of Royalty,” bleated the Goat-mother. “But no doubt you know best.”

The luggage was at last reduced to a small leather handbag; and the Goat-mother, after solemnly bestowing her blessing on Lizbet and Lenora, and the door-key on the Stein-bok, set off down the garden path with her children, upon their adventures.

CHAPTER III.

Meanwhile, the Goat-father was languishing in a dark shed attached to the Inn on the other side of the Glacier. His bleats had failed to attract any attention. In fact the only person who had heard him at all, had been an old Goat-slave, who while browsing on the hillside with a bell round his neck, had been attracted by the cries, and creeping up to the shed, peeped through a crack to see what could be the matter.

“Is there anyone near?” enquired the Goat-father in a whisper.

“No. There’s a party in the Inn, but they are too busy eating to take any notice of us. I am just loitering here, in case there should be any pieces of sandwich paper flying about.”

“Is there any chance of my making my escape?” enquired the Heif-father. “Are they very watchful people?”

“Excessively so,” replied the old Slave. “I’ve never been able to get away for the last ten years.”

The Goat-father groaned. “Then it wouldn’t be possible for you to take a message to my family?”

“Quite impossible, my dear friend, I assure you. Can’t you find any crack in the shed where you could break through?”

“There’s nothing,” cried the Goat-father. “I’ve searched round and round, and the door is as strong and tight as a prison.”

“Well, I’ll go off and see if I can find a messenger,” said the old Slave good-naturedly. “Perhaps the old fox would manage it.”

“A fox! Oh, I don’t think that would do,” said the Heif-father. “It mightn’t be safe for my family.”

“Oh, he’s all right,” said the Slave. “He’s been in captivity so long, it’s taken all the spirit out of him. He might live in a farmyard. He’s a good-natured creature, too, and I daresay he’ll go to oblige me.”

The Goat-father pulled a band and buckle off his necktie, and poked it under the door.

“Not to eat!” he whispered warningly, “but for the fox to take with him, that my wife may know the message comes from me; and be quick about it, my good friend, for I really am positively starving!”

“All right,” said the old Goat, “I’ll send the fox off, and come back in a few minutes to bring you some stale cabbage leaves.”

“A friend in need, is a friend indeed!” murmured the Goat-father; and went to sleep that night with more hope than he had felt since the moment of his capture.

CHAPTER IV.

“Come along, mother,” cried Heinrich, grasping the Heif-mother’s hand as they left the garden before their Chalet, and commenced the dangerous descent of the mountain.

Far below them they could see the great stretch of the dazzlingly white Glacier, with its rents and fissures shining greenly in the sunshine. On either side rose bare crags topped with grass, and above all, the snowy summits of the mountains.

The first part of the journey led along a narrow pathway, which the Goat-mother managed very successfully, but when they came to the precipice on which rough iron spikes had been driven at long intervals to assist the climber, her heart failed her, and in spite of her desire to hurry, she entangled her shawl and dress so constantly on the nails, that her children began to fear she would never reach the level of the Glacier.

At last, however, the little party succeeded in making their way across the Eismeer, and arrived without further mishap at the river leading to the Goat-King’s Palace.

This river flowed on the centre of the Glacier, between steep banks of transparent ice, every now and again disappearing into some vast cavern, where it swept with a hollow echoing under the ice-field.

“Follow me, mother,” said Heinrich. “I see the entrance to the Palace just in front of us.”

The Goat-mother gathered up her skirts, and assisted by Pyto, began to scramble down the bank to the side of the streamlet.

“Where is the boat kept?” she enquired.

“In a snowdrift close to the entrance,” replied Heinrich. “Don’t jump about near the crevasses, Pyto, and I’ll go and fetch it.”

The boat was soon dragged from its hiding place, and Heinrich paddled it to the spot where the Goat-mother was resting on a snow-bank.

She embarked with some nervousness, clutching desperately at her handbag. They pushed off, and were immediately carried by the current through the little round opening of the cave into the pale green glistening depths of the mysterious world beyond.

CHAPTER V.

There was no need for the Heif family to row. They were swept along past the ice walls, and in a few minutes reached the Goat-King’s landing-place. A small inlet with a flat shore, on which were arranged two camp stools and a piece of red carpet.

“Here we are at last, dear children,” said the Goat-mother. “What a relief it is, to be sure! Is my bonnet straight, Pyto? and do pull your blouse down. Your hair is all standing on end, Heinrich! How I wish the Stein-bok had allowed me to bring a pocket-comb!”

The Court Porter, seated in a bee-hive chair, came forward as soon as he saw them, to ask their business.

“The Goat-King is at home to-day till five o’clock,” he said. “If you will step this way, I will introduce you immediately.”

The Goat-mother trembling in every limb for she had never had a private interview with Royalty before clutched a child in each hand and followed the Porter.

They passed down two passages, and finally reached a large ice-grotto, with a row of windows opening on to a wide crevasse.

The room was filled with a flickering green light that yet rendered everything distinctly visible.

On a carved maple chair on the top of a dais sat the Goat-King a snow-white Goat with mauve eyes and beard; completely surrounded with cuckoo clocks, and festoons of yellow wood table-napkin rings, and paper-cutters. The walls seemed to be covered with them, and the pendulums of the clocks were swinging in every direction.

“The King thinks it right to patronize native art,” said the Goat-Queen, who with three of the Princesses had come forward graciously to welcome the visitors.

“I find the striking rather trying at times, especially as they don’t all do it at once, and sometimes one cuckoo hasn’t finished ten before the others are at twelve again.”

“I wish all the works would go wrong!” muttered one of the Princesses crossly. “An ice-cavern full of cuckoo clocks is a poor fate for one of the Royal Family!”

“We must encourage industries,” said the Queen. “It is a duty of our position. I should rather the industries were noiseless, but we can’t choose.”

“Bead necklaces and Venetian glass would have been more suitable,” said the Princess, who had been very well educated, “or even brass-work and embroidered table-cloths. We might have draped the cavern with them.”

At this moment there was a violent whirring amongst the clocks; doors flew open in all directions, and cuckoos of every size and description darted out, shook themselves violently, and the air was filled with such a deafening noise that the Goat-mother threw her apron over her head, and the Goat-children buried their ears in her skirts, and clung round her in terror.

“Merely four o’clock; nothing to make such a fuss about,” said the Goat-King. “And now, when we can hear ourselves speak, you shall tell me what you have come for.”

As the voice of the last cuckoo died away in a series of jerks, the Goat-mother advanced, and threw herself on her knees before the Royal Family, first spreading out her homespun apron to keep the cold off.

The King listened to her tale with interest, and his mauve eyes sparkled.

“If this is true,” he cried fiercely, “the Chamois shall be crushed! My official pen, Princess; and a large sheet of note paper!”

“Rest yourself, petitioner, you must be tired,” said the Queen, and pointed to a row of carved and inlaid Tyrolese chairs that stood against the wall.

The Goat-mother and her children seated themselves gratefully, and as they did so, a burst of music floated upon the air, several tunes struggling together for the mastery.

“Yes; it’s very unpleasant, isn’t it?” said the Goat-Queen, seeing the expression of surprise and uneasiness that showed itself on the visitors’ faces. “We’re obliged to have all the chairs made like that, to encourage the trade in musical boxes. I get very tired of it, I assure you, and I often stand up all day, just for the sake of peace and quietness. I really dread sitting down!”

Meanwhile, the Goat-King was busily writing, covering his white paws with ink in the process; and the Queen, in a very loud voice to make herself heard, was conversing with the Goat-mother about her household affairs.

“Supplies are most difficult to procure in this secluded spot,” she said mournfully. “Would you believe me, that last week we dined every day off boiled Geneva newspapers and cabbage? So monotonous, and the King gets quite angry!”

“I wish we could live on boiled cuckoos!” cried the eldest Princess, who with her sisters was seated on a bench by the window, spinning; the pale green light of the Glacier shining upon their white dresses, and the little brown spinning-wheels that whirred so rapidly before them.

“Petitioner, the order is ready,” said the King at this moment, waving a large envelope. “Go straight home, and send this paper round to all the Goats of the neighbourhood. It is an order to the ‘Free-will’ Goats, to arm, and assemble at your house for the defence of your family, and the rescue of the Heif-father.”

The Goat-mother curtsied to the ground, kissed the Queen’s hand, and retired with Heinrich and Pyto through the passages to the landing place.

At the last moment one of the Princesses came running after the Goat-mother, to press a cuckoo clock upon her, as a parting present from the Queen.

The clock was large, and they had some difficulty in getting it into the boat, but the Goat-mother did not dare to refuse it.

With the Porter’s help they got off at last, and started upon the return voyage, Heinrich and Pyto rowing their hardest; for the current swept through the ice-caves with such force that the Goat-mother had some difficulty in steering.

As they came out into the daylight, they saw that the sun was almost setting, and a faint pink light tinged the snow-fields, and the tops of the distant mountains.

“We must hurry, or we shan’t be back by nightfall!” said the Goat-mother nervously; and they landed on an ice-block, covered up the boat again in its hiding place, and set off towards home, across the Glacier.

CHAPTER VI.

The weary travellers almost sank with fatigue as they stumbled over the rough ice.

In addition to the handbag, they now had the cuckoo clock, and though Heinrich had insisted on carrying it strapped on his back like a knapsack, his mother could see that he became more and more exhausted, and at last she determined on taking it from him and carrying it herself.

The difficulty was heightened by the fact that the clock continued to tick, and the cuckoo to bound out of the door at unexpected moments, startling the Goat-mother so, that she almost dropped it.

“It’s the shaking that puts its works out,” said Heinrich. “Hold on tight, mother, and we shall get it home safely at last!”

“I wish it was at the bottom of the Glacier!” groaned the Goat-mother, staggering along; her bonnet nearly falling off, her shawl trailing on the snow behind her.

“Be careful, Pyto! Careless Goat!” she cried. “Test the snow-bridges carefully with your alpenstock before you venture on them!”

But Pyto, who was young and giddy, went gamboling on; until suddenly, without even time for a bleat of terror, he fell crashing through the rotten ice, and disappeared from view into one of the largest crevasses.

“Goats-i-tivy!” cried the Goat-mother. “He’s gone! Oh, my darling child, where are you?”

The cuckoo clock was thrown aside, and she ran to the edge of the crack and peered down frantically.

“All right, mother,” said a voice, sounding very faint and hollow, “I’ve stuck in a hole. Let me down something, and perhaps I can scramble out again.”

“What have we got to let down?” said the Goat-mother. “Not a ball of string amongst us! Oh, if ever we go on a journey again, I’ll never, never listen to the Stein-bok.”

“Well, mother, we must make the best of what we have,” cried Heinrich. “Take your shawl off and tear it into strips. We may be able to make a rope long enough to reach him anyhow we’ll try!”

The Goat-mother consented eagerly, though her shawl was one she was particularly fond of. She snatched it off, and taking out her scissors, she soon cut it into pieces, which Heinrich knotted one to the other, and lowered into the crevasse.

“Can you reach it?” he cried, putting his head as far over the edge as possible, and peering into the green depths.

The Goat-mother leant over, too; but in stooping her head her bonnet became loosened, and slid with a loud swish down the ice, darting from side to side until it disappeared from sight in the darkness.

“Oh, what misfortunes! My child, my shawl, and my bonnet, all gone together!” she cried, wringing her hands. “Take hold of the rope, my Pyto, and let us at all events rescue you!”

“All right, mother,” cried the distant voice. “Don’t drag me up till I call out ‘Pull.’”

In a few minutes the Goat-mother and Heinrich, listening intently, heard the welcome shout, and pulling both together they landed Pyto very much bruised and shaken, but not otherwise hurt upon the Glacier beside them.

“Oh, what a warning!” cried the Goat-mother, and after embracing Pyto warmly, she turned to look for the cuckoo clock. But it had tobogganed down a steep bank into an ice stream close by, and was floating away in the distance, cuckooing at intervals as it danced up and down upon the water.

Two travellers who had just reached the opposite bank, paused in astonishment to listen.

“You see,” said one, “this proves what I have always told you. Nothing is impossible to Nature. You may even hear cuckoos on a Glacier!”

CHAPTER VII.

The Goat-mother arrived at home in a pitiable state of cold and exhaustion, but she was much cheered by finding the house in good order, and a warm supper awaiting her, prepared by the hands of the careful Stein-bok.

Lizbet and Lenora immediately started off with the Royal Order; which was sealed with a large crown of red sealing wax fastening down a wisp of mauve hair.

The next morning all the Goats of the neighbourhood collected in a secret cavern, where they held a patriotic meeting, and discussed their plans for the rescue and protection of the Heif-father.

Six of the strongest and most daring spirits were to start that afternoon for the Inn on the other side of the Glacier, while the rest of the Free-will corps would take it in turns to remain in ambush in the Heif-goat’s garden, in case the Chamois should attempt their raid before the day they had appointed.

They all agreed that the corps should be armed to the teeth, and there was such a demand for sandpaper that the store in the Stein-bok’s pack was soon exhausted.

“A rusty sword is all the deadlier, when it once gets in,” said the Goat-Lieutenant. “I shan’t trouble myself about petty details.”

The Heif-father rescue party started to cross the Glacier as soon as it became twilight for they did not wish to attract attention.

The Lieutenant carried a blunderbuss, but the five privates were more lightly armed with a collection of rapiers, carving knives, daggers, spears, and sword-sticks.

Their uniforms were varied, but each wore a mauve badge on his hat, with the motto “Goats and justice.”

After half-an-hour’s steady walking they reached the opposite mountain, and climbing the ladders that led to the Inn, they skirted the Chalet carefully, hiding behind the loose rocks and bushes until they were well in the shadow of the outbuildings.

“Where are you, Herr Heif?” bleated the Lieutenant in a low tone. “We are friends. You needn’t be alarmed.”

“In here,” answered a cautious voice from one of the larger sheds. “You can’t get in, though there’s no hope of breaking the door open. Iron staples and bars, and the strongest hinges. How many of you are there?”

“Six,” replied the Lieutenant. “Free-will Goats, armed to the teeth!”

“You might look at the place and see if you can find a crack anywhere,” whispered the Goat-father.

The Lieutenant and his followers walked slowly round the house, examining it at every point; but it was all built of strong tree trunks tanned brown by the sunshine. Suddenly his eye lighted upon a small window. It was very high up and quite out of reach of anyone within, but the Lieutenant thought that by standing on something he might be able to raise himself sufficiently to reach it, and cut away the glass.

“Is there anything inside that you could stand upon?” he enquired.

There was silence, and a sound of scuffling; then the voice of the Heif-goat: “I’ve been examining things, and there are two barrels. I think I could put one on the top of the other. They might reach to the window, but it has two great wooden bars, I couldn’t break through.”

“Leave that to us,” said the Lieutenant, and he turned to his followers.

“Two of you get on each other’s shoulders, and then I will be assisted up. The other three mount in the same way by my side,” he said quickly. “We who are at the top will cut through the window frame with our knives, collect the glass, and drag out the Goat-father in no time.”

This plan was carried out, and in spite of the unsteady position of the topmost Goats, and the uncomfortable shaking of the lower ones, the wooden bars were at length sawn through, and the glass carefully gathered together by the Lieutenant in his felt hat.

“Steady!” cried the Lieutenant, “I’m coming down in a minute, and you’re beginning to shake about so, I can hardly keep my balance. Hi! Do you hear me? Steady, there!”

“I can’t stand this a moment longer my legs are giving way beneath me!” bleated the lower Goat. “I know I shall double up!”

As he spoke his feet slipped from under him, and he fell full length upon the hillside, carrying the others with him; and there they all lay in a confused heap, scarcely able to realize what had happened to them.

Fortunately, however, no one was seriously hurt. They picked themselves up and went to work again with renewed vigour.

“Climb up now, Herr Heif!” cried the Lieutenant. “Put your head out, and gradually lower yourself. We’ll stand below and catch you.”

“I’m a little afraid, for I know I should fall heavy!” said the Goat-father, in a quavering voice; but he did as he was told, and shutting his eyes firmly, he slipped from the window-sill and fell with a heavy flop into the arms waiting to receive him.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Goat-mother had lit a comfortable fire in the Heif Chalet, and the Goat-father’s slippers were warming against the stove; when a sound of approaching voices and footsteps made her start up in excited expectation.

The voices came nearer and nearer. Now she could distinguish the National Goat Song, and in another moment the door flew open, and Herr Heif rushed in accompanied by his rescuers.

The children screamed, the Goat-mother wept tears of joy; and after a general rejoicing, the whole party sat down to a comfortable meal, during which the Lieutenant’s health was drunk by the Goat-family amidst loud cheering.

“I am sorry we can’t invite the whole corps,” said the Goat-mother. “It’s very cold for them outside, but the fact is I haven’t sufficient crockery. As it is, I am forced to make use of oyster shells and the flower pot, though it’s very much against my principles.”

“Hush!” said the Goat-father, “there’s someone knocking!”

There was indeed a hurried rapping at the door, and one of the Watch-Goats put in his head to say that the band of Chamois were seen advancing towards the Chalet.

The tallow candle was immediately put out, the Lieutenant and his detachment seized their weapons, and concealed themselves behind the door, and the Goat-mother and her children were shut up in an inner room, where they waited in fear and trembling.

On came the Chamois with noiseless leaps, bounding into the garden, and approaching the front door with the utmost caution. Everything appeared to be turning out according to their expectations, and they already saw themselves in imagination seated in the Heif-house, revelling in the contents of the Goat-mother’s store cupboard.

Their long green coats fluttered in the air, the large bunches of edelweiss in their hats, glistened in the moonlight.

But a low, clear whistle suddenly sounded.

Each Goat sprang from his hiding place, and with a rush that took the Chamois completely by surprise, they fell upon the invaders, and drove them over the precipice.

It was a real triumph; for the Chamois flew down the mountain in the wildest confusion, falling down, and darting over each other in their hurry, and never stopping until they had reached their own haunts in the region of the distant Eismeer.

“A glorious victory!” cried the Lieutenant, “and not a drop of blood shed.”

As to the Goat-mother, she had passed through such a moment of terror that she had to be assisted out of the back room by three of the guard, and revived with a cabbage leaf before she could recover herself. She then embraced everyone all round, and the Goat-father broached a barrel of lager-beer; while the tame Fox from the Inn (who had appeared at the Chalet soon after the departure of the rescue party) ran about supplying the visitors with tumblers.

The next day the Free-will Goats were disbanded, and returned to their homes; after receiving in public the thanks of the Goat-King for their distinguished behaviour, and a carved matchbox each “For valour in face of the horns of the enemy.”

The Stein-bok Pedlar was begged to make his home at the Heif Chalet, but he loved his wandering life too much to settle down.

“Keep the tame Fox instead of me, ma’am,” he said, as he shook hands warmly with his friends at parting. “The poor creature is miserable in captivity.”

He then made the Goat-mother a handsome present of all his remaining groceries, and departed once more upon his travels.

That same afternoon a special messenger from the Goat-King arrived with an inlaid musical chair, “as a slight token of regard,” for the Heif-father.

“Well, at all events, it’s better than a cuckoo clock,” said the Goat-mother resignedly, “but let me warn you seriously never to sit down upon it! I know its ways, and though kindly meant, I should have preferred paper-knives!”