'Down with the fence!' ordered the implacable Moonlighter.

In two minutes the boys had found a weak set of rails in the fence, and
shortly after the goats were being driven across Wilson's paddock,
cutting off a great corner, and heading for the farmer's gates that
opened out on to the open country on which Waddy was built. Through these
gates the flock was driven with a racket and hullaballoo that set
Wilson's half-dozen dogs yapping insanely, and started every rooster on
the farm crowing in shrill protestation. Then helter-skelter over the
flat the goats were swept in on the township and left to their own
devices, whilst a dozen weary, dusty, triumphant small boys stole back to
bed through unlatched windows and doors carefully left open for a
stealthy return.


CHAPTER XI.

THERE was great wonder in Waddy next morning, and much argument.
Neighbours discussed the sensation with avidity. Mrs. Sloan, uncombed and
in early morning deshabille, with an apron thrown over her head, carried
the news to Mrs. Justin's back fence, and Mrs. Justin ran with it to the
back fence of Mrs. McKnight, and Mrs. McKnight spread the tidings as far
as the house of Steven; so the wonder grew, and families were called up
at an unusually early hour, and sage opinions were thrown from side
windows and handed over garden gates. An invasion of goats had happened
at Waddy, a downpour of goats, an eruption of goats: goats were all over
the place, and nobody knew whence they came or when they arrived. Waddy's
own goats were many and various, but the invasion had quadrupled them,
and goats were everywhere--bold, hungry, predatory goats--browsing,
sleeping, battling, thieving, and filling the air with incessant