Chapter III: Part 3

“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.”

“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.”