Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-08-06

that was fresh, tender, tufted, and with
it thousands of plants and herbs, very
different, indeed, from the turf in the
Frenchman's yard. And flowers too.
There were large bluebells that tinkled
in the wind and purple foxgloyes with
slender, dropping necks--in short, whole
meadows of wild flowers smelling SO
good they turned her head
Half tipsy with delight, the white
goat tumbled around in it all, kicking
her four legs up in the air and rolling
down the hills all in heap with the
fallen leaves and the chestnut burs.
Then, quick as flash, she would jump
to her feet and be off like flash, with
her head between her knees, over the
stumps and through the bushes, now on
high rock, now again at the bottom
of a gorge, up and down and every
where. You would have thought that
there were dozen goats on the noun
tain. All, no! Daisy wasn't afraid Of
anything. In single bound she jumped
over torrents where her fur was splashed
and out Of breath then, she stretched
herself out on some flat rock and let the
sun dry her. Once when she went to
the edge of the cliff with clover bios
som in her mouth she saw below, far
below, her in the valley the house of the
Frenchman with the pasture behind it,
The sight made her laugh till her sides
ached.
"How small it is!' she cried. "How
could it ever have held me?"
Poor little thingl Finding herself
perohed up SO high, she thought she
was at least as big as the world.
Suddenly the wind freshened; the
mountain turned purple; it was even
ing. Already said the little goat
as she stood still with wonder.
Below the meadows were drowned in
mist. The Frenohman's pasture was
lost in the haze, and of the little house
only the roof and thin wreath of
smoke could be seen. She listened to the
bells Of the cattle going home and felt
sick at heart. A hawk that was flying
back to his nest touched her with his
wings as he shot by. She shivered.
Then there came deep, long howl from
the mountain side.
"Hoo! HOOP
She thought of the wolf. All day long
the little runaway had not given him a
thought. In the same moment the
sound Of a distant horn came from the
valley. 1t was the good Frenchman
calling her back for the last time.
"Hoo! Hool" howled the wolf.
"Come home! Come home" blew
the horn.
Daisy wanted to 60 back, but when
she remembered the stake, the rope and
the hedge around the pasture she thought
she could not stand it any more and
that she had rather stay.
Suddenly she heard rustling Of
leaves behind her. She looked back and
saw two burning eyes in the dusk,
with two short ears standing up straight
above them. 1t was the wolf.
Monstrous and horrible! There he
sat on his Launches, glar1ng at the lit
tie white goat and licking his chops. As
he knew for sure that he would devou1
her the wolf was in no hurry, only
when she turned her head he laughed
wickedly, "Ha, ha, the Frenchman's
little goat" and his long red tongue
licked along the row Of sharp white
teeth.
Daisy knew she was lost. For mo.
ment, as she remembered the story Of
old Russell, who had fought all night,
to be killed in the morning, she thought
it were better perhaps to let herself be
devoured right away. Then, having
changed her mind, she fell back step,
with her head low and her horns in adj
vance, like the brave little goat she
was, not because she hoped to kill the
wolf-goats don't kill wolves-but
merely to try whether she could not
hold out as long as old Russell.
Then the wolf made leap, and the
little horns came into play.
Brave little goat How she threw her
heart into it! More than ten tines
tell the truth, madcap-she made the
wolf fall back and pant for breath.
During these rests of a minute the
greedy little thing would quickly crop
one more tuft Of her dear grass and
come back to the fight with her mouth
full. 1t lasted all night. From time to
time the Frenchman's goat glanced up
at the stars, shining through the clear
night overhead, and said to herself,
"Oh, if can only hold out till dawn!"
One after another the stars went out.
Daisy's horns butted faster and harder;
the wolf snapped and bit more savage
ly. A faint light appeared in the east
Far away, among the farms, rooster
crowed hoarsely.
cat last" said the poor animal, who
only wished for the day SO as to die,
and she lay down in the grass, with
her silky, white fur all flecked with
blood.
Then the wolf fell upon the little
goat and devoured her.
Goodby, my madcap.
The story you have heard is not tale
Of MY making. If ever you go to France,
the Frenchmen will often speak to you
of ''the pretty goat Of the Provence,
who fought all night with the wolf,
and then, in the morning, the wolf ate
her up"
You understand me, madcap?
"And then, in the morning, the wolf
ate her up" = From the French Of
Alphonse Daudet.
Powerful Speaking.
Wendell Phillips once, when he was
interrupted by an unfriendly audience,
rkoonod do,u,a and honan fa1kinc in a