But a goat is not like a dog or a cat, some of which can find their way home after having been taken many miles from it. So, after wandering about in the woods, and finding no place that looked like his former home, Lightfoot gave up.
“It’s of no use,” he said. “I guess I am lost. I must have come farther in that canal boat than I knew. Well, the woods are a good place to stay. I shall not be hungry here.”
Lightfoot wandered on and on for several days. Once some boys, who were in the woods gathering flowers, saw the goat behind some bushes.
“Oh, let’s chase after him!” called one, and they ran toward Lightfoot.
But the goat leaped away and soon left the boys far behind. If one of them had been Mike, Lightfoot would have gone to him, but Mike was not there.
One day as Lightfoot was wandering through the woods, wishing he were back in his home again, for he was lonesome, having no one to talk to but the birds, he heard a noise in the bushes.
It was a smashing, crashing sort of noise, as though made by some big animal.
“Maybe it is one of the canal horses,” thought Lightfoot. “I hope it is. They’ll be company for me. Maybe one of them ran away.”
He looked through the underbrush and saw a big, shaggy, brown animal, standing on its hind feet. With its front paws it was pulling berries from a bush and eating them.
“Excuse me,” said Lightfoot in animal language. “But could you tell me the way to the Widow Malony’s shanty?”
The big animal stopped eating berries, looked up at the goat in surprise and asked, in a sort of growly voice:
“I am Lightfoot, the leaping goat,” was the answer. “Who are you?”
“I am Dido, the dancing bear, I am glad to meet you. Come over and have some berries,” and Lightfoot went.
Lightfoot and Dido stood looking at one another for a few seconds. It was the first time the goat had ever seen a bear, for though there were wild animals in the park where Mike used to drive him, Lightfoot had never been taken near the bear dens. But it was not the first time Dido had seen a goat.
“Do you like raspberries?” asked Dido, pulling a branch toward him with his big paw and stripping them off into his big red mouth.
“I don’t know,” answered the goat. “I never ate any.”
“Help yourself,” invited Dido. “Just reach out your paw and with your long claw-nails strip off the berries into your mouth.”