"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?"