But many others besides Mike and his mother kept goats, for all the neighbors of the Malonys were poor squatters who lived among the rocks on the edge of the big city. They were called “squatters” because they did not own the land whereon they built their poor shanties, some of them being a few boards covered with sheets of tin from some old building. These people just came along and “squatted” on the land. Some had been there so long they thought they owned it.
Mrs. Malony and her son were very poor. Sometimes, had it not been for the milk of the goats, they would have had nothing to eat. The widow took in washing, and Mike earned what he could running errands. But, for all that, the widow and Mike were cheerful and tried to be happy. They kept their shanty clean, and were clean themselves. And they took very good care of the goats. Mike made a little shed for them to sleep in when Winter came; and when the grass on the rocks was scarce Mike would get a job in the city, cutting the lawn of some big house, and he would bring the clipped grass home to Lightfoot and the others.
“Yes, I’m going up on top of the rocks,” said Lightfoot to himself as he began to climb upward.
The path to the top was a hard and rough one to climb. But Lightfoot did not give up.
“I know I can do it,” he declared, still to himself. “I was nearly up once but Mr. Sharp-horn chased me back. I was only a little goat then.”
Lightfoot knew he was much larger and stronger now, and he certainly was a better jumper. He really did not know how far he could jump, for he had not had much chance. On the lower rocks there were not many good jumping places. The ground was too rough.
“Wait until I get up to the top,” thought Lightfoot to himself. “Then I’ll do some jumping. I wonder if they’ll chase me back?”
Part way up the rocky path he stopped to look toward the top. He saw Mr. Sharp-horn looking down at him, and Lightfoot pretended to be looking for some grass that grew in the cracks of the rocks. As he did this the widow came to the door of her shanty.
“Mike! Mike!” she called. “Where are you? Sure an’ I want you to be takin’ home Mrs. Mackinson’s wash. ’Tis all finished I have it.” And then, as she shaded her eyes from the sun, and looked up at the rocks, Mrs. Malony saw Lightfoot half way to the top.