Pixy's Holiday Journey Part 30

They soon reached a small, dark cabin, old and dilapidated, yet it was shelter; and they rejoiced that they had found it. As they neared it, they smelled the welcome odor of frying sausage.

The only light that came through the one little window was from the small fire on the hearth and in this dim light the boys saw two figures bending over the fire, and one by the door, which stood slightly ajar.

Only a few more steps and they were up to the door, and there stood the butcher-boy with knife in hand. Fritz felt that the knife was already at his throat. He fell back upon Franz, and Franz upon Paul, and they were about to flee.

"Here are the three stubborn little tramps that would not beg, but are willing to eat what we begged. But come in, boys, and keep quiet, or some prying forester will come along and drive us out in the rain."

The boys drew back, for they were startled and distressed at having run directly into the lion's claws.

"Come in, you simpletons! Are you afraid that I will kill you?"

"No wonder they are afraid when you are flourishing that big knife,"

said the basket-maker. "Come in, boys. He has it only to cut our meat and bread. He would not use it on a person because he knows he would have to suffer for it."

The boys were afraid of them all, but night was coming on, it was raining, and there seemed nothing else to do, so they stepped in, followed by Pixy, who had sniffed the odor of sausage.

"Now you can set the table. The sausage is done," said the blacksmith, and while the butcher shut the door, the basket-maker hung his coat across the little window to hide the light from outside, and more fuel was piled on the fire, which soon blazed up and brightened the dingy place.

A newspaper was placed in the centre of the floor and a large paper bag was emptied of its contents upon it, a motley mess of bread, brown and white, sc.r.a.ps of meat, cheese and other things they had begged.

"Now fall to, yellow bills," said the butcher to the triplets. "Your money bought this sausage, and you have a right to share it," and he gave them a liberal supply on slices of brown bread.

The boys were hungry and ate heartily, though realizing that they were beggars and were being entertained by beggars.

"Your dog must have his supper," said the butcher-boy when they had finished and, putting sc.r.a.ps of bread, meat and other things into the pan in which the sausage had been fried, he stirred it about and poured it upon a piece of paper, and Pixy devoured it greedily.

As soon as the supper was finished, the travelers prepared for sleep.

"Let us put on our rain-coats," suggested Paul. "They will help dry our clothes and keep us warm."

"Why didn't you put them on before it rained?" asked the basket-maker.

"That is like locking the stable after the horse is stolen."

"We never thought of it," responded Fritz. They took the rain-coats from their knap sacks, put them on and felt immediate comfort; then all lay down with their feet toward the fire, Pixy close to Fritz.

"I am tired, and could sleep if I were not so thirsty," murmured Paul.

"Well, donkey, there is nothing to hinder you from getting a drink,"

said the rough voice of the butcher-boy. "Go quietly out the door, turn to the left and there is a spring of good water, which you can scoop up in your hands. Hurry in and shut the door, or some one of the forest-keepers will ferret us out."

The boys arose quickly and went out, followed by Pixy. It had stopped raining, but the woods looked very dark and gloomy.

"Let us run away and leave our knapsacks," said Fritz. "I don't like to be in the company of such people."

"Nor do I," agreed the other two, and there was a pause for reflection.

"Where could we go?" asked Paul. "We would only get lost again in the woods."

"But I am afraid of that butcher with his knife," said Fritz.

"That basket-maker would not let him hurt us."

"Are you coming in or not?" asked the rough voice of the butcher-boy at the door, so they hurried in, and closed the door.

The boys lay near each other for company, and Pixy crept close to Fritz, who rejoiced that he was with them.

After a time the butcher-boy raised his head and whispered, "Boys, are you asleep?"

"No," replied Fritz, with a thrill of alarm which almost deprived him of speech.

"Now keep your mouths shut," was the next whisper. "I hear something outside."

The boys obeyed, though they longed to cry out, "Come, whoever you are, and take us out of this miserable place."

There was one of the party who resolved not to obey the command, and that was Pixy. He, too, heard the noise outside, and sprang against the door, barking shrilly.

"I will kill that dog if he don't keep quiet," said the butcher-boy in an angry but subdued tone.

Fritz groped his way to his pet and put his hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The forest-keeper outside had heard the barking, and striking his musket upon the door, he asked, "Who's there?"

It was now no use to keep silent and Fritz took it upon himself to answer.

"Good friend, we are three boys on our holiday journey. We have been to Frankfort, and are on our way home to Michelstadt."

"Who is in there with you?"

"Three working people who allowed us to take shelter here from the rain."

The forest-keeper opened the door, struck a light in his lantern and stepped in.

"What brought you in here?" he asked of the three grown travelers.

"There is no need to ask. You know that it has been raining," replied the butcher-boy doggedly.

"Yes, but it is not raining now. Go out of here! You might set the cabin on fire, and then the woods would be ablaze."

The triplets were ready in a moment's time, and eager to go, but not so the others.

"The fire is out. What is the use of moving on until daylight?"

"Because it is against orders to allow anyone to stay in this cabin.

Wake up your comrade, and all of you leave."

This was a hard task, for the blacksmith was a sound sleeper, but by dint of calling and pushing they got him partly awake.

"What is it you want?" he said, looking sleepily at the forest-keeper.

"Go out of here. There is no room for you."

"Nor for you! Up, up, and out!"