"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."