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Lisbeth pursued swiftly; but, run as she might, she could not gain upon Crookhorn. At last, stumbling over a stone, the little girl fell at full length, having barely time, while falling, to look up and catch a glimpse of Crookhorn's back as the goat, trotting swiftly, disappeared over the brow of a hill.
She hastened to say, "Oh, yes; I carry it with me sometimes." "I have mine, too. It is the only thing I have left from my herding days." And he drew one of Crookhorn's horns out of an inner pocket. "Shall we try them?" Then they both laughed and played "The Old Woman with a Stick" together, as they had so often done in the old days.
After Crookhorn's running off with the herd of horses, things had not gone any better with that proud-minded goat. When she finally came home, late in the autumn, with the last of the horses, she was so conceited that there was no getting her to live in the barn with the other goats.
It was dark, and the military horse failed to see that it was only Crookhorn at his heels; so up went his hind legs and out went a kick that landed plump on Crookhorn's cranium and sent her flying against the stable wall. That was the last of Crookhorn.
One call was thin and fine, the other two were heavier. That triple signal meant "Forward, march!" Lisbeth Longfrock, Ole, and Peter were going to take their trip to Glory Peak to see the spot that had been visited by the king. The boys now owned goat horns to blow on, and they were good ones, too; for Lisbeth Longfrock had kept her word about Crookhorn's horns and had given one to each boy.
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