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It was the cunningest goat you ever saw, lively but good, and so pretty—light gray, with a little beard. Mother had bought it early in the spring. On Sundays it had a blue ribbon around its neck, and other days a red worsted collar with a white button. It was a great pet. “No need to bother about the Greasers in camp. They won’t make any trouble.” It was the first word spoken by their captive. Lars poked Johnny in the side. “Just listen to that, boy!”.

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The clashing of swords was soon after heard, together with a violent noise. The screams were repeated, and the oaths and execrations of the disputants redoubled. They seemed to move towards the door, behind which Hippolitus was concealed; suddenly the door was shook with great force, a deep groan followed, and was instantly succeeded by a noise like that of a person whose whole weight falls at once to the ground. For a moment all was silent. Hippolitus had no doubt that one of the ruffians had destroyed the other, and was soon confirmed in the belief—for the survivor triumphed with brutal exultation over his fallen antagonist. The ruffian hastily quitted the room, and Hippolitus soon after heard the distant voices of several persons in loud dispute. The sounds seemed to come from a chamber over the place where he stood; he also heard a trampling of feet from above, and could even distinguish, at intervals, the words of the disputants. From these he gathered enough to learn that the affray which had just happened, and the lady who had been the occasion of it, were the subjects of discourse. The voices frequently rose together, and confounded all distinction. “What a stupid you are to shake them off that way!” exclaimed Johnny. She desired to retire for a time to some obscure convent, there to await the issue of the event, which at present involved her in perplexity and sorrow. "You are right," said her godmother, "go and see.".