The Water Goats and Other Troubles | Page 7

dumpcart. He was used to children--he had ten or eleven of his own.
And he controlled several votes in the Fourth Ward. His elevation from
the dump-cart of the street cleaning department to the high office of
Keeper of the Water Goats was one that Dugan believed would give
general satisfaction.
When the goats arrived in Jeffersonville the two heavy crates were
hauled to Alderman Toole's back yard to await the opening of the park,
and there Mayor Dugan and Goat Keeper Fagan came to inspect them.
Alderman Toole led the way to them with pride, and Mayor Dugan's
creased brow almost uncreased as he bent down and peered between
the bars of the crates. They were fine goats. Perhaps they looked
somewhat more dejected than a goat usually looks--more dirty and
down at the heels than a goat often looks-- but they were undoubtedly
goats. As specimens of ordinary Irish goats they might not have passed
muster with a careful buyer, but no doubt they were excellent examples
of the dongola.
"Ye have done good, Mike," said the mayor. "Ye have done good! But
ain't they mebby a bit off their feed--or something?"
"Off their feed!" said Toole. "An' who wouldn't be, poor things? Mind
ye, Dugan, thim is not common goats--thim is dongolas--an' used to
bein' in th' wather con-continuous from mornin' till night. 'Tis sufferin'

for a swim they be, poor animals. Wance let thim git in th' lake an' ye
will see th' difference, Dugan. 'Twill make all th' difference in th'
worrld t' thim. 'Tis dyin' for a swim they are."
"Sure!" said the Keeper of the Water Goats. "Ye have done good,
Mike," said the mayor again. "Thim dongolas will be a big surprise for
th' people."
They were. They surprised the Keeper of the Goats first of all. The day
before the park was to be opened to the public the goats were taken to
the park and turned over to their official keeper. At eleven o'clock that
morning Alderman Toole was leaning against Casey's bar,
confidentially pouring into his ear the story of how the dongolas had
given their captors a world of trouble, swimming violently to the far
reaches of Lake Geneva and hiding among the bulrushes and reeds,
when the swinging door of the saloon was banged open and Tim Fagan
rushed in. He was mad. He was very mad, but he was a great deal
wetter than mad. He looked as if he had been soaked in water over
night, and not wrung out in the morning.
"Mike!" he whispered hoarsely, grasping the little alderman by the arm.
"I want ye! I want ye down at th' park."
A chill of fear passed over Alderman Toole. He turned his face to
Fagan and laid his hand on his shoulder.
"Tim," he demanded, "has annything happened t' th' dongolas?"
"Is annything happened t' th' dongolas!" exclaimed Fagan sarcastically.
"Is annything wrong with thim water goats? Oh, no, Toole! Nawthin'
has gone wrong with thim! Only they won't go into th' wather, Mike! Is
annything gone wrong with thim, did ye say? Nawthin'! They be in
good health, but they are not crazy t' be swimmin'. Th' way they do not
hanker t' dash into th' water is marvellous, Mike. No water for thim!"
"Hist!" said Toole uneasily, glancing around to see that no one but
Casey was in hearing. "Mebby ye have not started thim right, Tim."

"Mebby not," said Fagan angrily. "Mebby I do not know how t' start th'
water goat, Toole! Mebby there is one way unbeknownst t' me. If so, I
have not tried it. But th' forty-sivin other ways I have tried, an' th' goats
will not swim. I have started thim backwards an' I have started thim
frontwards, an' I have took thim in by th' horns an' give thim lessons t'
swim, an' they will not swim! I have done me duty by thim, Mike, an' I
have wrastled with thim, an' rolled in th' lake with thim. Was it t' be
swimmin' teacher t' water goats ye got me this job for?"
"Hist!" said Toole again. "Not so loud, Tim! Ye haven't told Dugan
have ye?"
"I have not!" said Tim, with anger. "I have not told annybody
annything excipt thim goats an' what I told thim is not dacint hearin'. I
have conversed with thim in strong language, an' it done no good. No
swimmin' for thim! Come on down an' have a chat with thim yersilf,
Toole. Come on down an' argue with thim, an persuade thim with th'
soft sound of yer voice t' swim. Come on down an' git thim water goats
used t' th' water."
"Ye don't understand th' water goat, Tim," said Toole in gentle reproof.
"I will