Pixy's Holiday Journey Part 19

"That is enough, my boy. Is this it?" and he held upon a red leather pocketbook.

"No, mine is the same shape, but smaller."

"Is this it?" holding up another.

"Yes!" cried the boy joyously and reached for it.

"First tell me what is in it."

It was no trouble for Fritz to enumerate the coin; he had done it too often to forget.

"The pocketbook is yours, my little man. Tell me, do you recognize this photograph?"

"Yes, it is he; the very one, only his overcoat was not b.u.t.toned when he robbed me."

"Exactly. We know our man and he is now behind iron bars. When your aunt came here and gave the information, I sent one of my detectives to a public house where these rascals congregate; and, sure enough, there was your fine gentleman partaking of a good dinner washed down by a bottle of good wine at your expense. Your gold-piece is safe and one of the dollars. He used the other and the small change for his refreshments. Here, take your pocketbook, and I wish to say that there are not many grown people who could observe and describe so well the thief who robbed them."

"I will not trust anybody again as I did that smooth-talking stranger.

I will be on the lookout all the time for thieves."

"Oh, my boy, do not let this affair make you suspicious of your fellow-creatures, or you will never have a peaceful hour upon earth. Of course, we should not trust entire strangers too much, and should carry our money in a secure place. The safest is a pocket on the inside of your vest, a thief could not well get his hand in there. And now let us shake hands in farewell, and may you have a pleasant visit to Frankfort!"

The boy left the office in splendid spirits, for he felt richer than when he first owned the pocketbook and the gold-piece, for he had it again, when he thought it was gone forever. The policeman took him in sight of number 37, and he ran the rest of the way alone. He saw his aunt on the porch waiting for him.

"Aunt f.a.n.n.y, dear Aunt f.a.n.n.y, I have my gold-piece and my pocketbook,"

and he held it up in glee.

"Oh, my boy, had we Pixy back, that would be a greater joy," said Mrs.

Steiner.

"My Pixy!" cried the boy. "Isn't he in the house?"

"No, my poor boy, and I have no idea where he is. After you left, the affectionate creature was so lost without you that I could not quiet his restlessness. Franz and Paul had gone out to walk around the square, and left the door open a little way and while I was in the kitchen to see if the bread was ready to put in the oven Pixy slipped out. I saw him disappear, and ran after him as fast as my feet would carry me, but he escaped."

Fritz broke into bitter weeping and his aunt wept with him for she had no comfort to offer, and when Franz and Paul came they, too, were deeply worried over the loss, for they blamed themselves that they did not see that the door was latched.

"What can we do?" they asked Mrs. Steiner.

"The first thing is to run to the station-house and tell the police.

They have found the thief and may find the dog."

"Oh, Fritz, have you really got your gold-piece?" they asked in a breath.

"Yes, and my pocketbook, but they are no pleasure to me now that I have lost Pixy, and I am the only one to blame. If I had left him at home, instead of bringing him to Frankfort without papa's knowing it, this would not have happened," and again he wept and the others could offer no comfort.

"If I don't find Pixy, I will not go home," he sobbed; "Papa and mamma and little sister love him so, and even our servant girl will grieve if Pixy never comes back."

"Let us not lose time in grieving," said his aunt, putting her hand upon his shoulder, "but let us do what we can to find him."

"Yes, we will go," said Fritz, "for the longer we wait, the further away he will be," and he ran out, followed by his comrades.

The first person they met was a carpenter with his tools upon his shoulder.

"Have you seen my dog, my Pixy?" asked Fritz as the three halted and looked up in his face. "A beautiful, black dog with curly hair on his neck and shoulders?"

"No, I have seen no black dog," and the boys ran along again, asking every one they met.

"You are only asking me to plague me," said a cross old woman, not heeding the tearful eyes of Fritz. "The street boys are getting more tormenting all the time."

At length a kind-hearted woman told them that she had seen a black dog on the next street, and they ran in breathless haste to see it, but alas! it was not Pixy, for while resembling him, it did not recognize the name of Pixy, nor the voice of Fritz calling it.

"This is my dog, boys! What do you mean by trying to toll him away?"

exclaimed a gentleman, coming to the door of a store; but when Fritz explained that he had lost his dog, the gentleman believed him and became a sympathizing friend.

"I will give you the advice to go to the animal asylum," he said. "Stray dogs and other animals are taken there and good care given them until the owners claim them."

"Oh, if my Pixy falls in good hands until I can find him," said Fritz.

"I must tell you, boys," continued the gentleman, "that in Frankfort, as in other cities, there are people who will steal dogs in order to get a reward. But your dog may only be lost, and the best way will be to put a notice in the morning paper. Then if he is at the asylum, they will let you know."

At that moment a well-known voice said, "Good day, doctor, what important business have you with my young friends?"

It was Uncle Braun who spoke, and the boys were so delighted to see him that half their trouble seemed to be gone.

"Don't be so distressed, Fritz," he said. "I will put a notice in the paper saying that a black dog answering to the name of Pixy has strayed away, and will promise a reward to anyone who will bring him to 37 Bornheimer street. Now run home, boys, and do not keep Mrs. Steiner anxious about you."

He added to his kindness by going with them as far as number 37, and when the triplets hurried up the steps, they found Mrs. Steiner on the porch watching for them. She was sad to see that Pixy was not with them, but cheered Fritz by saying that Uncle Braun generally succeeded in what he undertook, and all ate dinner with hope in their hearts. But when they arose from the table and Fritz saw Pixy's plate on the back porch, he threw his arms about his aunt, and wept.

"Oh, Aunt f.a.n.n.y," he said, "if I only knew that Pixy was in the asylum or some other safe place, and not wandering the streets, hungry and looking for me, I would not feel so badly! but I am afraid the street boys will throw stones at him and he will run away and never come back."

"If your gold-piece that you gave up as lost was found, so Pixy may be.

Do not cry any more, my darling, or you will be sick. Perhaps your dog may be on his way back to the Odenwald."

"If we had walked all the way he might track us, but we came in the cars from Umstadt."

"In spite of that disadvantage he may find his way home, as he did the time your neighbor gave him away."

"Where will we go to-morrow?" asked Paul with the kind intent of taking Fritz's thoughts from his trouble.

"In search of Pixy."

"No," responded Mrs. Steiner, "that will be of no use. You might walk the streets from morning until late at night every day, and it would be of no advantage to you or the dog. Let us go this afternoon to the zoological gardens and see the many animals from foreign countries. We will have some dinner and then go, that we may have a long afternoon at the gardens."

This was a happy thought. Nothing could have taken the boy's mind from his loss of the dog so well as did the many varied interests which the gardens offered.

Near the entrance was a large, fine building used by visitors as a resting-place, and for refreshments. Mrs. Steiner did not pa.s.s it by, but the four went in and she bought a supply of cake as a supplement to their light dinner. Then they went to see the splendid crested pea-fowls that were spreading their brilliantly tinted fans on the green lawn. As they pa.s.sed a company of gay-plumaged parrots they were crying, "Dora!

Dora!" and Mrs. Steiner told the boys of a lady who owned the large green parrot and was so weary of hearing it scream, "Dora! Dora!" from morning until night, that she gave it to the garden; and now all the parrots screamed "Dora."