“All right, then.  Good-bye, and a pleasant journey.”

“Good-bye, and a pleasant journey,” echoed Peter, who, having cleaned the dust from the shoes of the three, carried their wash-water up to their room, and thrown water on the fighting dogs, was in evidence on the porch waiting for tips.

“Will we give him anything?” whispered Paul.

“No,” replied Fritz.  “I would think if Mr. Furman paid for all, he would not forget to give Peter something for waiting upon us.  Come on.”

Had they opened their hearts to give the waiting Peter a few pennies, it would have saved them much anxiety, but they walked away without casting one backward glance.

They felt somewhat weary from their walk of the day before, yet enjoyed the fresh air, the song of the birds, the fragrant smell of woods and meadows; and Pixy frolicked along sometimes before and sometimes behind them, but never losing sight of his master.

They had walked more than a mile when Fritz halted suddenly and grasped the arm of Paul.

“Did you take our money from under your pillow?” he asked.

“I?  No, I never thought about it.  You put it under the pillow, and I have never thought of it since seeing you put it there.”

“Now, Paul, it was Franz and I who went to the other beds, you were left in the one where the money was hidden.  You must have it, and are only trying to scare us.  Of course, you would not leave it under the pillow.”

“Of course I did!  I tell you that I never thought of it once.”

“Then, Franz, you would not forget it.  Certainly you have it in your pocket.”

“Certainly I have not!  I have never thought of it since you put it under the pillow.”

“Oh, that is too bad!” cried Fritz, flushing with dismay.  “We will have to go back to the inn and get it.”

“Not I,” asserted Franz.  “I would be ashamed to go back.  Remember how Mr. Swan laughed because we stacked things against the door.”

“Nor will I,” echoed Paul stoutly.

“Then we can go no further on our journey to Frankfort; we will have to go back home, for we have no money.”

“Now just see!” ejaculated Paul, “you remembered the dog which is of no use to us, and forgot the money that we cannot do without.  We must go back for it,” and like the sons of Jacob returning to Egypt, they turned their faces toward Umstadt.

A slight coolness reigned among the triplets; a cloud rested upon the brows of Franz and Paul that for the forgetfulness of Fritz they must face the landlord, and more than that the tipless Peter.  So with red cheeks and eyes cast down they returned to the Swan inn, and the landlord met them at the door with a smiling welcome.

“I expected you,” he said.  “You remind me of the story of the traveler who upon his journey came to a cross road, and, not knowing which to take, returned home.  But I judge you had a better reason that it will be a great pleasure to you to relate.”