Her friend agreed, laughing, and both girls sprang ashore. They didn't mind getting a little wet, considering how they were dressed. The goat bleated forlornly as they seized upon him; he was quite all the two girls could lift, and they actually had to drag him up the steeper part of the hill by his legs. Their friends below chaffed them a good deal, for it was a ridiculous sight. Soon, however, Wyn and Frank got their awkward burden to the mouth of an easily sloping gully, that led toward the interior of the island. As soon as he could, the animal scrambled upon his feet. Once firmly set, however, this ungrateful goat's temper changed most surprisingly. Or he may have felt that his dignity had been ruffled by the treatment he had received at the hands of his rescuers. So he began stamping his little sharp hoofs and lowered his head, shaking the latter threateningly. "What did I tell you?" called Bess, from below. "Next you two sillies know he'll butt you." "Oh, come along, Wyn!" gasped Frankie. "Plague the goat, anyway!" as she dodged the enraged animal's first charge. The goat was headed up the gully, away from the shore, or he might have gone head first into the lake again. As the girls escaped him, Wyn, laughing immoderately, looked back. A big beech tree cropped out of the bank not far away, and under this tree she descried a figure lying. "Oh, Frank!" she cried. Her friend turned and saw the figure, too. "Oh, Wyn!" Their ejaculations seemed to have attracted Mr. William Goat's attention to the same reclining figure. Outstretched upon the sward, with a large handkerchief over his face as a protection from gnats and other insects, and with his fat fingers interlaced across what Dave Shepard wickedly termed his chum's "bow-window," lay the quite unconscious Tubby Blaisdell. "Tubby!" shrieked the girls in chorus. The fat boy sat up as though a spring had been released. The handkerchief was still over his face, and he grunted blindly. It was a challenge to Mr. Goat. He charged. Amid the screams of the girls the goat hurtled through the air, all four feet gathered beneath him, and landed head-and-horns in the middle of poor Tubby's waistcoat! It wasn't a very big goat. 'Twas lucky for Master Blaisdell that this was so. Tubby went back with an awful grunt, heels in the air, and the goat turned a complete somersault. But the latter scrambled to his feet a whole lot quicker than did Tubby. "Run--run, Tubby!" shrieked Frank. "Look out for him, Ralph!" cried Wyn. Back the goat came. This time he took Master Blaisdell from the rear and butted him so hard that he actually seemed to lift the fat boy to his feet.