“Whose black fiend of a dog is that, running loose about a freight car?” she exclaimed angrily.

“It is mine, good lady,” said Fritz soothingly.  “I did not wish him to frighten your chickens.”

“How do I know that you did not set him on them while I was asleep?  If he has hurt them, you will pay well for them.”

“See, here is the cord that I hold him with,” said the boy, taking it from his knapsack.  “I will tie it to his collar, and he will not go near your chickens again.”

But all that he could say was but oil to the fire, and Fritz found that the wiser plan for him was to keep silent; while Pixy, understanding that the storm of words had something to do with him, crept behind the box on which his master sat and looked up at him with a very penitent air.

The seats the boys had taken did not prove permanent, for at every station some of the freight must be taken out, and some brought in, but they enjoyed the trip, for the old woman and her chickens left the car at one of the stations, and they had the place to themselves.

“Is this Frankfort?” they asked at every station.

“No,” the guard replied, “and I expect you to ask at every stopping place until we really reach Frankfort, and then you will not ask.”

“Why?” asked Fritz.

“Because you will know without asking.”

Presently Franz called out, “Hurrah, we are here!”

“Where?” asked Fritz, hurrying to the window.

“At Frankfort.  See, we are crossing a river.  It is the Main.  Yes, there is the dome!  I know it from the picture of the cathedral in my picture of Frankfort.”

“Didn’t I say that you wouldn’t ask if this is Frankfort?  Now boys, out with you, and take your dog.  Good-bye!”

CHAPTER IV

A KIND WELCOME

The train drew slowly into the depot at Frankfort, and for the first time in their lives the country boys saw something of the bustle and excitement of travel.  A crowd of people was hurrying out of the cars, and an equally hurrying one was passing in, while on the platform of the depot was a waiting crowd greeting returned ones, and bidding farewell to departing ones, in all of which the boys were so interested that for a time they forgot their own interests.  At length the departure of the train brought to their remembrance that they, too, must depart and Fritz stepped up to an old gentleman whose pleasant countenance inspired confidence.

“We wish to go to the house of my aunt, Mrs. Fanny Steiner,” he said.  “Are you acquainted with her?  She is a little, thin lady, has gray hair, and wears a widow’s cap.”

“No, my boy,” smiled the old gentleman, “I have not the honor of her acquaintance.  Perhaps you can tell me the number of her house and the street?”

“Yes, it is number 37 Bornheimer street.”

“Good!  I can direct you exactly how to go.  You take the electric car which will pass here in a few minutes, and it will take you to the corner of the street not more than a few steps from number 37.”