After
they had started he rather enjoyed it for from all sides he heard
the people say:
"There, look! There goes the goat that saved the baby's life."
"Isn't he a beauty?"
"See what nice, white, silky hair he has!"
"Yes," Billy thought, "if they could have seen the firemen
scrubbing me, I expect they would have laughed like the policemen
did." But it all tickled his vanity for Billy was as conceited a
goat as you could well find.
They had been marching for some time and Billy was getting tired
of the slow gait and being made to stay between the engine and
hose-cart instead of riding on the hose-cart as he had been in
the habit of doing, when he heard the plaintive bleat of a goat
and the sound of a whip.
"My!" thought Billy, "how that voice reminds me of Nanny."
Just then a little cart, with a can of milk in it, drawn by a
goat came in sight around the corner, and who should be pulling
it but Nanny, with the big, clumsy Mike Rooney cracking the whip
at her and every once in a while giving her a stinging cut which
had caused Nanny to cry out as Billy had heard.
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