"Why, neighbor, you have brought me a fine flock of birds!" he said, cordially.
"Yes, they are choice singing birds and will roost with you to-night and to-morrow will fly away to Frankfort."
"All right, all right! We have a room that will suit them exactly."
"These boys spoke of being thirsty, neighbor. Will you have some fresh water brought for them? I offered them something stronger in the shape of a bottle of mineral water or sarsaparilla, but they prefer the water."
The order was given, and a large stone pitcher and glasses soon appeared. The moment Pixy saw it he sprang up, put his feet on the pitcher and tried to lick the drops from it.
"Wait a bit, Pixy! I am so thirsty," exclaimed Fritz, and he drained the glass of cold water without stopping.
"My boy," said Mr. Furman, "the true friend of our poor dependent dumb creatures attends to their wants first; the really kind master will not let them wait while he satisfies his own hunger and thirst."
Fritz was ashamed of his treatment of Pixy, and was glad to pour some of the water into a basin which the innkeeper reached to him. He carried it to the porch, where Pixy ran quickly and drank as if he was afraid the basin would be taken away from him.
"Now, boys, I must go on home," said Mr. Furman as he shook hands with them. "Good-bye! Remember me to your fathers, and take good care of Pixy."