"Don't you try it, young man," said Fritz, "unless it's the only
thing you can do. The best goat-boy is the one who keeps his
goats from getting into such places. It's much cleverer to keep
out of trouble than to get out."

They gave up the milking lesson for the time being, but when the
long day was over and they were on their way down the mountain-
pass in the late afternoon, they came to a wide level space. Here
they paused, and, while Seppi stood with his arm about Nanni's
neck and fed her handfuls of green grass, Leneli really did milk
enough for a refreshing drink to sustain her on the long homeward
journey.


Singing, playing tunes on the horn, and rousing the ever-ready
echoes with their yodels, they ran down the steep mountain path
in a much shorter time than it had taken to climb it in the
morning, and came in sight of the old farm-house just as the
Angelus rang again in the little white village spire. They paused
on the mountain path and bent their heads, but Nanni was not a
religious goat! She remembered the glimpse she had had the night
before of green things growing in the garden and suddenly bolted
down the steep path at a break-neck speed. All the rest of the
flock followed pell-mell after her, and the children were obliged
to cut short their prayers in order to save the carrot-tops from
being eaten up.

The last mile was covered in record-breaking time, and before the
cuckoo clock struck seven the children and goats and dog all came
galloping into the yard together.