Its course lay towards the station of the railway, which is close to the salt works, whose smoke at times sullies this part of clean little Hall, though it does not do very much damage.  From Hall the iron road runs northward through glorious country to Salzburg, Vienna, Prague, Buda, and southward over the Brenner into Italy.  Was Hirschvogel going north or south?  This at least he would soon know.

August had often hung about the little station, watching the trains come and go and dive into the heart of the hills and vanish.  No one said anything to him for idling about; people are kind-hearted and easy of temper in this pleasant land, and children and dogs are both happy there.  He heard the Bavarians arguing and vociferating a great deal, and learned that they meant to go too and wanted to go with the great stove itself.  But this they could not do, for neither could the stove go by a passenger train nor they themselves go in a goods train.  So at length they insured their precious burden for a large sum, and consented to send it by a luggage train which was to pass through Hall in half an hour.  The swift trains seldom deign to notice the existence of Hall at all.

August heard, and a desperate resolve made itself up in his little mind.  Where Hirschvogel went would he go.  He gave one terrible thought to Dorothea—­poor, gentle Dorothea!—­sitting in the cold at home, then set to work to execute his project.  How he managed it he never knew very clearly himself; but certain it is that when the goods train from the north, that had come all the way from Linz on the Danube, moved out of Hall, August was hidden behind the stove in the great covered truck, and wedged, unseen and undreamt of by any human creature, amidst the cases of wood-carving, of clocks and clock-work, of Vienna toys, of Turkish carpets, of Russian skins, of Hungarian wines, which shared the same abode as did his swathed and bound Hirschvogel.  No doubt he was very naughty, but it never occurred to him that he was so:  his whole mind and soul were absorbed in the one entrancing idea, to follow his beloved friend and fire-king.

It was very dark in the closed truck, which had only a little window above the door; and it was crowded, and had a strong smell in it from the Russian hides and the hams that were in it.  But August was not frightened; he was close to Hirschvogel, and presently he meant to be closer still; for he meant to do nothing less than get inside Hirschvogel itself.  Being a shrewd little boy, and having had, by great luck, two silver groschen in his breeches pocket, which he had earned the day before by chopping wood, he had bought some bread and sausage at the station of a woman there who knew him, and who thought he was going out to his Uncle Joachim’s chalet above Jenbach.  This he had with him, and this he ate in the darkness and the lumbering, pounding, thundering noise which made him giddy, as never had he been in a train of any kind before.  Still he ate, having had no breakfast, and being a child, and half a German, and not knowing at all how or when he ever would eat again.