"Well now, read it aloud."

"Way to the Zoological Aquarium," repeated Fritz.

"Now this one."

"Beware of pick-pockets."

"It is good advice. I must see if I have my money," and he touched his pocket; his example followed by Fritz.

"Yes, mine is all right yet. How is it with yours, my dear young friend?

I hope your money is in a safe place, that is, if you have any with you?"

"Yes, I have two dollars and some small money; but better than all, I have a gold piece that I keep in the safest place in my pocketbook. I am not intending to spend it for I have enough without it, but my father said that one ought to have more money with him than he thinks he will need."

"Your father is evidently a kind and sensible man."

"Yes, he certainly is. He told me to keep my nickels in my vest pocket that I need not take out my pocketbook when with strangers."

"That is true in most cases, my boy, but from long experience in living in a city I would advise that you put it all in one place. If all your money is in your pocketbook you can guard it much better than if your attention was divided by having to guard two places."

Fritz took the advice and his nickels to the value of two marks were taken from his vest pocket and put in his purse, and the purse returned to the pocket of his pants.

"Now that is right, and you may thank this notice which has warned you.

Just see how easily one expert pick-pocket could have gotten your money had you not been warned," and he showed Fritz how it could be done.

Pixy had kept his eyes upon the stranger and when he saw his hand glide down to the pocket, he gave a low growl.

"Be quiet, Pixy!" said his master. "Don't you know a friend from an enemy? Excuse my dog's bad manners, please; he is not in a good humor.

Some street boys attacked us, and he had to fight them off."

"Don't say a word, my dear boy. He is a faithful servant. If he is jealous of a friend, he would have a still sharper eye upon an enemy if one should happen along. Now, Pixy, good, brave dog, eat this piece of candy, and let us be friends."

He took the candy from his vest pocket and offered it, but Pixy scorned the gift, and gave an angry growl.

"Oh well, doggie, I will not trouble you any longer," and he put the candy back in his pocket. "Now I must away. Bye-bye, my boy, and beware--of--pick-pockets," and he disappeared around the corner.

Pixy sprang up to follow, but the boy called him back.

"Franz was right, Pixy, when he said you have no sense," complained Fritz, as the dog continued to give dissatisfied growls. "You don't know a kind, good man from a thief and dislike him only because he is a stranger. Yes," he said to himself, as he walked along back to the store, "it was real kind in him to warn me, for he did not know but I was a stupid country boy who had never heard of pocket-took thieves. I would like to see a thief that could put his hand in my pocket without my knowing it. Stupid people are yet to be found, for with all the reports of thieves in the papers, there are people who allow themselves to be robbed, but they are generally women. People like me would know a thief the moment they saw him."

By this time he had reached the store, and wondered what kept the boys so long within.

"They forgot that I am waiting outside," he said to himself, "and I am terribly hungry. There is a bakery across the street. I will run over and buy a roll."

No sooner said than done; he ran across, and the odor of fresh bread, cakes and pretzels filled the place. He bought a roll, and took a bite while feeling in his pocket for his purse.

"Oh, it is gone!" he cried, turning pale with distress.

"Put your hand in your other pocket," said the saleswoman. "It may be there."

This was quickly done, but it was not to be found.

"I don't believe you had any money," said the woman, angrily, "but took that planning to get the roll without paying for it. I will call a policeman."

"Oh, please don't!" cried the boy, with tears streaming down his cheeks, "I will pay you when I see my aunt. She is Mrs. f.a.n.n.y Steiner, number 37 Bornheimer street."

"Yes, now I believe that you are telling me the exact truth that you had money and have lost it."

"No, I did not lose it; it was stolen from me by a man who warned me against thieves."

"Then I should certainly call a policeman that you may have a chance of getting your money by giving a description of the pick-pocket."

"Oh no, please don't call him. I am afraid of a policeman, and don't want to see one."

"But why? That is foolish of you. They are our protectors. Only bad boys need fear them; honest people are glad to call upon them in trouble."

"There comes Franz and Paul out of the clothing store," and he ran to the door and called them, and they came across the street and into the bakery.

"What are you crying about?" asked Franz. "Have the street boys been fighting you while we were in the store?"

"No, I wish it had been the rude, ill-mannered rabble instead of the polite, kind-appearing gentleman who was a thief and stole my money. I am so ashamed that I was deceived by his pleasant words. Besides, I have bought a roll and cannot pay for it."

"Oh, that is all right!" said his companions, taking out their pocketbooks. "Here is your money for it, lady, and we will each buy a roll."

"Come, Fritz," said Paul as he took a bite out of his roll, "eat your roll and come with us. It is no use to stay here."

"Oh, my hunger is gone, and how can I forget my loss when I need my money every day?"

"But what is the use of fretting over it?" said Franz, impatiently.

"The money is gone, and crying will not bring it back, so you may as well make the best of it."

"Yes, Franz, it is easy for you to talk that way when you have your money in your pocket. But mine is gone. Even the few nickels that were in my vest pocket were taken by the miserable thief," and tears streamed from the boy's eyes.

"I do feel sorry for you," said the saleswoman. "Had you much money in your pocketbook?"

"Yes, I had two silver dollars and a ten-mark gold piece with the face of Kaiser Frederick upon it. My father got it in trade, and he put it on the Christmas tree for me. It was new and bright and beautiful, and now it is gone. Besides I had two marks, and the nickels in my vest pocket--and--"

"What is the use of calling them all over?" complained Franz. "This is the third time you have called them. They will not come back like tame birds that know their names."

"Just think of the lines we repeat in school: 'Happy are we if we forget what we cannot change,'" Paul said by way of comfort.

"Yes, Paul, that is all right when people are not in trouble, but it will not bring back my beautiful, bright gold-piece and my--"

"It was not very smart of you to allow yourself to be robbed," rejoined Paul quickly. "No thief would have gotten the chance to fool _me_ that way. I would not have been so friendly with a strange man as to allow him the chance to get his fingers in my pocket."

"Oh, Paul! you think you are very wise, but you would have been taken in just as I was by his smooth, sleek speech. The rascal was so pleasant and kind! It is a lesson to me, but that does not bring my money back; oh, my gold-piece, and my two dollars--boo--hoo--hoo--"

"Oh, do be quiet!" warned Franz. "Don't you see that people are gathering about the door?"