“Oh, thank you, thank you!” said Fritz much relieved.  Paul and Franz touched their hats and thanked him, taking Fritz as an example in all things.

The car came, and the three, followed closely by Pixy, rushed to get aboard.

“You can’t bring that dog on the car.  It is against orders,” called the motorman.

“What must I do?” asked Fritz despairingly.

“You must settle that matter between yourself and the dog.  Perhaps he will follow the car if he sees you in it.”

“Can I stand on the platform where he can see me?”

“No, it is against orders; but you can sit at the window at the end of the car, where he can see you.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” and the three quickly boarded the car.  Fritz took the place designated, and they were off, while Pixy, who believed that his master was deserting him, ran barking and howling in their track.

At every stoppage of the car, Pixy sprang up to the window, but Fritz knew better than to speak one comforting word, although his heart ached for his forlorn traveling companion who must walk—­or rather run, and run fast to keep up with the rapidly moving car.  At length Pixy learned the lesson of experience.  As there was no chance for him at the back end of the car, he would try the front, so at the next stopping-place, he flew along the length of the car, sprang on the front platform and curled about the feet of the motorman.

“See here, boy, you must get out, and take your dog.  It is against orders for a dog to be on the platform.”

“We will go out, too,” said Franz and Paul, jumping up to follow their leader.

“Give us back our money,” said Fritz, holding out his hand, when they reached the street.

“No; it is against orders;” and the car sped away.

Pixy was delighted that the three boys were now on the same footing as himself, and proved it by springing up, putting his feet on his master’s shoulders and licking his face; and the boy petted him to his heart’s content.  But Paul and Franz were not flattered in an equal measure with Fritz at Pixy’s pleasure in their company as fellow-travelers, and expressed their opinion with clouded faces.

“Now this is the second time that we have paid out money and got but little good out of it because of the dog,” grumbled Franz.  “He got into a fight and your pants got torn, and we would, I think, have remembered the money if we had not been bothered about having to wait to get them mended.  Then we had to come back and pay thirty cents to Peter and thirty to Letta; and afterward had to ride in a freight-car because of your dog.”

“If you don’t want Pixy with us, I will go back home to-morrow and take him,” said Fritz with tears in his eyes.  “It has been enough trouble to me that I brought him without first asking papa and mamma.  It was a mean thing to do, but I thought it would be so nice to have him take the journey with us.”