“Do you think it lightens the burden for my horse that you keep your knapsacks on your shoulders?” smiled the gentleman.  “If you lay them off you will see that he can trot just as well; and if there were a dozen boys he would not consider them a burden but would keep on trotting.  You have told me where you are going, now tell me where you are from.”

“We are from the country near the village of Michelstadt,” replied Fritz.  “We left at six o’clock this morning to pass our holiday with my father’s sister, Mrs. Fanny Steiner.”

“That is good.  Now tell me your names and your fathers’.”

“My father is Fritz Heil, and I am named for him.  He is a clothing merchant in the village of Michelstadt.”

“Very good!  I know him well.  Now tell me who you are,” turning to Paul.

“My father is Paul Roth, he is a teacher.  My name is the same.”

“Very good; now, my boy,” turning to Franz.

“My father is named Franz Krupp, and I am named for him.  He is the head-forester in the Odenwald.  The master-forester is old and when he dies my father will get the place.”

“Halt, my boy!  Guard your speech.  Don’t speak to a stranger or to anyone of the master-forester’s death.  Is he not in good health?”

“No, he is sick.  I never heard my father say anything about his death or of taking his place, but I know that he will have it when he dies.”

“Nor should you speak of it.  I know the master-forester as well as I know your father.  Suppose I should tell him what you have just said about his dying and your father getting the position?”

The eyes of Franz filled with tears and he looked alarmed.

“Don’t be anxious, my boy.  I know you meant no harm, but I wish to warn you to be careful of your speech.  The master-forester has a brother living in this neighborhood.  I may be that brother.  If so, would I like to hear that your father is looking forward to his death in order to have his place?  And would it be to your father’s advantage to have it known that he is looking forward to it?”

Franz was silent a moment, then he reached forward and put his hand in that of his adviser and thanked him, and his friend shook it heartily.

“Now, as a matter of courtesy, I should tell you my name.  It is James Furman.  I am a farmer and live near the village of Umstadt.  I know your fathers well and am glad to meet their sons.”

“And we are glad to meet you!  It is kind of you to ask us to ride.  We were getting very tired, and we are much obliged to you.”

“Then perhaps you will sing some more of your sweet songs.  Hear how the larks and finches are singing their evening praises to God.”

The boys were very willing.  They sang several, their new friend joining them, and had just finished his favorite when they reached the little town of Umstadt, and halted in front of the one public house of which the sign was a swan.  The moment the carriage stopped Pixy sprang out and waited with bright eyes and wagging tail for his master to descend.