The great goat lifted his head high and laughed out loud. The other goats joined in as they looked down at the helpless Roscoe. “Whoop! Whoop! Baaah!’

Zebulon laughed and galloped and didn’t notice the large thorn bush. He ran right in. “Aaaaaaagghh!” The whole pasture heard Zebulon’s scream and fell silent. But no one could see the great and mighty leader anywhere. “Whoop! Whoop! Aaargh!!”

“Whoop! Whoop!” Zane ran toward the bushes and jumped in head first. Now he was screaming and whooping with Zebulon somewhere deep in the bushes. Benjamin and Paco looked incredulous as all the wild goats crazily whooped and leaped in a mass frenzy into the blackberry thorn bushes. Clementine ran over to Roscoe, who was slowly getting back on his hooves.

“I can’t believe it! You won!” the pig said.

“I-I did?” Roscoe’s head bobbed. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“Well, that big dumb goat said you wouldn’t remember anything.”

“But that was if I lost.”

“You fainted,” Paco said, “and fell down right before he rammed into you.”

“Oh–” The goat was embarrassed.

“When he ran past you, he looked back and started laughing.”

“Everybody did,” Clementine added.

“Then he ran into the thorn bushes and the rest of them followed!”

“Oh…”

“You did a terrific job!” Benjamin crouched to Roscoe’s eye level. “But I think we should get out of here now.” As the wild goats whooped and screamed in the bushes, the four ran east, knowing they would reach the edge of Persly’s Woods before long.

“Roscoe, you really showed courage back there!” Benjamin said when they were able to slow their pace.

“Thank you, Sire. I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“You looked like a matador against that big bully goat!”

“A matador, Sire?” Paco asked.

“Someone who dodges and ducks out of the way of a charging bull for sport.”

“But I was jousting, Sire–oh,” Roscoe frowned. “You mean when I fainted.”

“If you hadn’t fallen down,” Paco said, “he wouldn’t have laughed at you and run into the thorns and…well, you’d be dead.”

“And we’d be slaves to a bunch of stupid crazy goats!” Clementine said.

“Roscoe the Matador!” The little goat said with a proud smile and pranced a bit.

“Son of Stinky,” the pig added quietly.

Roscoe came down to earth and walked a little more humbly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A Puzzling Encounter

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN began its descent, providing the travelers much-needed relief from the heat. A distant horizon of treetops urged them closer to the western edge of Persly’s Woods. With each step they took, the forest emerged more clearly. As the sun fell lower, the interior of the woods grew darker. They reached the towering trees as a faded, orange glow coated the thick treetops.

“Ah, finally!” Roscoe exclaimed, indulging in a long stretch.