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There was no need for the Heif family to row. They were swept along past the ice walls, and in a few minutes reached the Goat-King's landing-place. A small inlet with a flat shore, on which were arranged two camp stools and a piece of red carpet. "Here we are at last, dear children," said the Goat-mother. "What a relief it is, to be sure! Is my bonnet straight, Pyto? and do pull your blouse down.
"In spite of the rudeness of my own people, I am in the Museum after all," remarked the Chip, as some months afterwards he hung on a bracket on the wall of the young lady's sitting room. "In what a superior position, too! They only belong to the Director, but I belong to the Director's wife!" The Heif Goats lived close to the Heifen Glacier, one of the largest in Switzerland.
"Such a treat, especially the light yellow sort with printing, that always has crumbs in it," said the Goat-mother. "It makes a delicious meal. We generally have it on fête days." The family of the Heif Goats consisted of the Heif-father, his wife, and their four children, Heinrich, Lizbet, Pyto, and Lénora.
The principal news from the outer world was brought to the Heif family by a Stein-bok pedlar, who wandered about the country with his wares, and was so popular that he was a friend of all classes, and supplied even the Chamois with their groceries and tobacco.
"Where are you, Herr Heif?" bleated the Lieutenant in a low tone. "We are friends. You needn't be alarmed." "In here," answered a cautious voice from one of the larger sheds. "You can't get in, though there's no hope of breaking the door open. Iron staples and bars, and the strongest hinges. How many of you are there?" "Six," replied the Lieutenant. "Free-will Goats, armed to the teeth!"
They picked him up, and dragged him to the Inn on the other side of the valley, where he was locked up securely in a shed, and there he is at the present moment." "My brave Heif in prison! He will never, never survive it!" cried the Goat-mother, shedding tears in profusion.
Fortunately, however, no one was seriously hurt. They picked themselves up and went to work again with renewed vigour. "Climb up now, Herr Heif!" cried the Lieutenant. "Put your head out, and gradually lower yourself. We'll stand below and catch you."
The next day the Free-will Goats were disbanded, and returned to their homes; after receiving in public the thanks of the Goat-King for their distinguished behaviour, and a carved matchbox each "For valour in face of the horns of the enemy." The Stein-bok Pedlar was begged to make his home at the Heif Châlet, but he loved his wandering life too much to settle down.
The Goat-mother had lit a comfortable fire in the Heif Châlet, and the Goat-father's slippers were warming against the stove; when a sound of approaching voices and footsteps made her start up in excited expectation. The voices came nearer and nearer. Now she could distinguish the National Goat Song, and in another moment the door flew open, and Herr Heif rushed in accompanied by his rescuers.
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