“But why need you care if they do know that you rode part of the way both in coming to Frankfort, and going home?” asked his aunt.

“Because we told them that we were going to walk all the way, and we expected to do so, and they will plague us, and say we couldn’t do it.”

“Your satchel is to be sent by express, is it, Fritz?” asked Mrs. Steiner.

“No, Aunt Fanny.  While you were talking to Uncle Braun and the new cousin, papa said that he would stop here on his way from Cassel and bring it home with him, and he will bring the bird cage and bird for sister.  So we will have only our knapsacks as we had when we came.  He said for me to put the tin horn and the grater in the satchel and not come through our village looking like a traveling tinker.  I told him not to tell anybody about my being arrested, for the Trojans might hear it and would plague me.”

The next morning at eleven the boys set out for home, Mrs. Steiner accompanying them to the depot.  The fates seemed to favor Fritz, for when they reached the platform an old lady called from the car window, “You can bring your dog in here if no one else objects; I am a friend to dogs,” and another lady and an old gentleman in the compartment agreed that they had no objection to having Pixy for a fellow traveler.

The triplets bade Mrs. Steiner good-bye and thanked her for her kindness to them, and she in turn invited them to come to visit her whenever their parents were willing.

“Your dog is young, I think,” remarked the old gentleman.

“Yes,” replied Fritz, “he is young, but he is very smart.”

“Indeed!” commented the old gentleman.  “In what way has he given evidence of his intelligence?”

“He earned five hundred marks on Saturday.”

The old gentleman frowned, but Fritz, not noticing it, continued, “and he found a cousin of my father, who lives in England.”

“Indeed!  Then if your dog has such keen scent as to reach to England, perhaps he will go a step farther and tell us whether the old man in the moon smokes cigars or a pipe.”

“But I am telling you the truth!” insisted Fritz.

The old gentleman paid no attention to him, but, taking up his paper, commenced reading attentively.

“Fritz, you ought to tell him how Pixy earned the money and found the cousin,” whispered Paul.

“No, he won’t listen,” replied Fritz.  And he was right; the old gentleman believed that the boy was treating him with disrespect by telling him such a wild story.

When the train reached Umstadt, and the boys came in sight of the Swan inn, they saw the landlord on the stone steps, his thumbs in his vest pockets and his fingers moving as if playing the piano.

“So, here you are again!” he exclaimed heartily.  “Did you get homesick?”

“No, but school begins on Wednesday, and we wished to be on time.”

“That was sensible.  How did your dog act in that ant-hill, Frankfort?”