“Oh, how did you ever dare do it?” asked Blackie, running up to Lightfoot with a piece of paste-paper in her mouth. “Weren’t you afraid?”
“I――I guess I didn’t have time to be,” answered Lightfoot. “I didn’t think they’d drive me away from up there.”
Mike went on with the washing when he found Lightfoot was not hurt, and Mrs. Malony went back in the shanty. From the edge of the rocks above the other goats looked down.
“Say, youngster,” called Mr. Sharp-horn to Lightfoot, “I didn’t mean to make you do that. Are you hurt?”
“Not a bit,” answered Lightfoot, who was beginning to feel a bit proud of himself now.
“That was a wonderful leap,” said Mrs. Sharp-horn.
“Indeed it was!” added Grandpa Bumper. “Of course I have made such leaps as that when I was younger, but I can’t any more. For a kid that was very good, Lightfoot.”
“He won’t be a kid much longer,” said Mrs. Sharp-horn. Then she said something in a low baa-a to her goat-husband.
“Why, yes,” answered Mr. Sharp-horn, “I guess, after this big leap he did to-day, Lightfoot can come up among us other goats now. You may come up to the top of the rocks whenever you like,” he went on to Lightfoot. “We won’t chase you away any more.”
“And may Blackie come up with me and eat the sweet grass?” asked Lightfoot, having a kind thought for his little friend.
“Can she climb that far?” asked Grandpa Bumper.
“Then you may both come,” went on the old grandfather goat who ruled over the rest. “Your grass down there is getting pretty dry,” he went on. “Come up whenever you want to. And, Lightfoot, don’t try any more such risky jumps as that. You might break a leg.”
So, after all, you see, Lightfoot’s big jump turned out to be a good thing for him and Blackie. After Lightfoot had rested a bit he and Blackie went up to the top of the rocks, Lightfoot helping the girl-goat over the rough places, and soon all the Widow Malony’s animals were cropping the sweet grass on top of the high rocks.
Lightfoot’s leap was talked about among the goats for many a day after that. The goat grew bigger and stronger, and every chance he found he practiced jumping until he could do almost as well as Mr. Sharp-horn, who was the best leaper of all the goats in Shanty-town, as the place of the squatters was called.