Eric had no idea that he was a particularly interesting boy. He was large and strong for his age, easy in his manners, and had a frank, joyous countenance, surmounted by thick, brown, curly hair. His eyes were very honest eyes indeed, often opening wide in a surprised way, when they saw anything not quite right, and blazing and flashing upon the aggressor when they witnessed wrong, cruelty, or injustice. He had been brought up upon the creed, "First of all, do right; and be a gentleman." And being thoughtful, careful, and obedient, he was trusted and respected as few boys of his age rarely deserve to be.

Of course he had his faults. No young lad is without them. But the difference between Eric and other boys was, that when he became conscious of a fault in his character, he immediately set about overcoming it, and therefore soon got rid of it. But he was obliged to keep a very careful watch over himself, for little faults creep into one's character faster than the little weeds spring up in the flower garden, and, like the weeds, too, if at once removed are almost harmless, but if allowed to spread and flourish they soon spoil the entire character, as the weeds spoil the garden.

While we have been moralizing, Eric has eaten his supper, neatly packed up the few things left about, and, with Froll and his travelling-bag, starts from the Vyverberg for Paris.

A very common-looking steamboat took them to Antwerp. There is not much to relate of their journey, for Eric's adventures had so tired him that he slept all the way, only awakening to take the cars at Antwerp, and rousing once again to know they were passing through Brussels, and to hear his uncle say that the finest altar in the world was in the cathedral there. They arrived at Paris about noon of the next day, and, after considerable trouble, found that Dr. Ward had taken rooms in a hotel in the Place Vendome, whither they at once repaired.

Eric wanted to give his uncle and cousin a surprise. So Mr. Van Rasseulger did not send up their names, but they stole softly up the stairs, and opened the door.

Johnny was alone, lying upon the floor, with a very fretful, discontented expression upon his countenance.

He turned his head towards the door, and there, upon the threshold, blushing and laughing, stood Eric; and, better still, behind him was papa. The child uttered a joyful cry, and sprang into his father's arms, who hurried to meet him, exclaiming,—

"My boy, my Johnny-boy, what is the matter?"

"It's only the mumps," said Johnny, reassuringly, and holding out his hand to Eric. "O, ain't I glad you've come!" he added. "It's awful dull here, uncle Charlie is away at the hospital so much."

"Well, how have you been, excepting the mumps?" inquired his father, relieved enough to find nothing serious the matter with his petted boy.

"Bully!" exclaimed John, very improperly. "See how strong I'm getting, papa!" and he threw out his fist suddenly, giving his father a very uncomfortable punch in the side.

"I'm glad you didn't illustrate on me," said Eric, laughing. "Uncle John, are you a tester?"

"I'm an attestor, certainly," replied his uncle. "Johnny, if you demonstrate your power of strength so forcibly and practically, some one will apply oil of birch to you."

"Then I'll be in first-rate running order," retorted Johnny, "and you'll have to take me to Strasbourg."

"Indeed," said his father, "I think so."

As they all sat, merrily talking, Dr. Ward returned, and was pleased and surprised enough to find his unexpected guests. His greeting was very cordial.

Eric he was particularly glad to see; he had been worried about leaving him so long, alone, at the Hague; and Johnny had been too ill to travel or to be left with strangers, and Eric was too inexperienced, his uncle thought, to go from the Hague to Paris alone. So it was quite a relief to find him safely at hand.

"And now," he said, after talking about home affairs for quite a while, "I see my way out of a dilemma. I have been anxious to attend two or three medical lectures at Heidelberg, and if you will look after the boys for a day or two, I can have my desire."

"Certainly; I will for a day or two. At the end of that time I must go home. Here's this dutiful boy of mine, with never a word for mamma, Annie, or Adolphe.

"Well," said Johnny, remonstrating, "you took me so by surprise, papa, that I forgot all about them."

"Your filial affection must be strong," said his father, laughing at him.

Johnny did not like this, and proposed to Eric to take a walk, and "see Paris."

While they were gone, Mr. Van Rasseulger arranged with the doctor to meet them again at Heidelberg; meanwhile he would keep the boys with him for a week. They would leave Paris the next day, if John was well enough.

Dr. Ward thought he would be.

Mr. Van Rasseulger explained that he had been obliged to visit Rotterdam and Hague suddenly on business, and must go to Vienna, in Austria, and start for home, within a fortnight.

"Don't neglect to take the boy to Munich, and show him to his grandfather; and don't forget your promise to 'make him as hearty and strong as Eric,'" he said.

Poor little Johnny, in the interval between his own birth and that of his baby brother,—a space of seven years,—had been petted and pampered, and almost thoroughly spoiled. His temper had suffered with his constitution, and he became a delicate, sickly child. His parents, while living in New York, had lost three boys, and fearing to lose Johnny, too, had sent him to travel abroad, under Dr. Ward's care. Mr. Van Rasseulger was a native of Germany, and thought there was no air so invigorating as that breathed in on German soil. He had great hopes of its curing John's delicacy; and Dr. Ward thought that a strange country and traveller's hardships would be excellent aids in restoring the boy's natural health and good-nature.

Meanwhile, Eric was seeing Paris under Johnny's guidance. To be sure, he could not see much in a day; but he took a look at the war column in the Place Vendome, saw the Palace of the Tuileries, the Jardin des Plantes, and entertained his little cousin with an account of his visit to the King of Holland, and his submarine diving, both of which Johnny thought very wonderful. Eric was not much concerned at seeing so little of Paris at the time, for he knew that the doctor intended to spend a month there, after visiting Munich. He bought a guide-book while out with Johnny, and then they returned to their rooms in time to see the doctor start for Heidelberg.

"Eric," said Johnny, when Dr. Ward had gone, "I must show you the American railway here."

"Why?" said Eric; "I'm sure that is the last thing I came to Paris to see."

"Now," said Johnny, importantly, "I suppose you think you know just what it is; but you're quite as mistaken as if you were a donkey without ears."

"John!" said his father, reprovingly.

"That was only a 'simile,' papa," answered Johnny, roguishly, as he led Eric out again.

Sure enough, when they reached the railway, Eric found that his idea of it had been far from correct.

"It is nothing at all but an omnibus running upon rails," he said: "I don't see why they call it American."

"It isn't anything like as nice as our street cars—is it?" answered Johnny, with a flourish of national pride quite pardonable in so young an American.

Just then the conductor, supposing the two boys wished to be passengers, saluted them politely, exclaiming, "Complete, complete!" and the omnibus rolled off along the rails.

"What did he mean?" asked Eric, quite puzzled.

"He said the coach was full," Johnny replied. "They are never allowed to carry more passengers than there are seats for."

"That is still less and less like an American railway," said Eric, laughing, and thinking of the crowded cars and overstrained horses he had so often seen and pitied, wearily perambulating the streets of New York.

"Let's have some cake and coffee," Johnny proposed, as they were strolling towards home. "I think French coffee is hard to beat."

"When I was your age," remarked Eric, "mamma almost decided to live in Paris; but I am very glad she did not, for I think New York a great deal nicer."

Johnny led the way to a cafe—that is, a coffee-house,—and here they regaled themselves with rolls and delicious coffee.

Eric was shocked to see Johnny appropriate a couple of cakes and two lumps of sugar, left over from their repast, and convey them to his pocket.

"Why, Johnny!" he exclaimed, in a tone of mortification.

"They all do so," said John, laughing. "A Frenchman thinks he has a right to everything that he pays for. Watch the others."

Eric looked around and saw several Frenchmen, who had finished their lunch, following John's example.

"Well," said he, "if I should do that at Millard's, how they would all stare!"

Johnny was quite pleased with his own importance in being able to show Eric around the city, and proposed several places that they "ought to see." But the afternoon was waning, and a damp, chilly breeze sprang up, which Eric knew, from experience, was not at all good for the mumps. So he very prudently hurried Johnny home, holding forth Froll's loneliness as an additional inducement.



CHAPTER X.

STRASBOURG.

"Uncle John," said Eric, the next morning, "do you think of going through Strasbourg, when we leave for Munich?"

"No," said his uncle; "I have business to attend to on another route."

"But, papa," expostulated Johnny, "we want to see the great clock in the Strasbourg Cathedral."

"It will be impossible for me to go," Mr. Van Rasseulger said, very decidedly; but seeing that both the boys were greatly disappointed, he added, "If you could be a sober boy, Johnny, I might trust you alone with Eric, and you might go to Switzerland by the Strasbourg route, meeting me at Lucerne."

"By ourselves? O, how jolly!" Johnny exclaimed, turning a somersault upon the floor.

"But the question is, my boy, Can I trust you?"

"O, papa!"

"I will consider it, John. I can trust Eric, but your inclinations are apt to be rather unsteady."

That was certainly true, for Johnny's inclination just then was, back parallel with the floor, heels at a right angle with his head.

"But I think I will try you," continued his father. "I shall put you under Eric's care, and require you to obey and refer to him. You may start to-morrow morning, which will give you time to spend a day and night at Strasbourg, and to meet me at Lucerne, on the evening of the day after to-morrow."

"Hurrah! hurrah!" screamed Johnny, leaping to his feet, "hurrah for Strasbourg and its wonderful clock! Three cheers for—Good gracious!"

The excited boy's exuberant spirits went up with Eric's guide-book to the ceiling of the room, and returned in bewilderment as the unfortunate book came down in a basin of water in which he had been sailing his magnetic ship.

"An encouraging beginning that," remarked his father, gravely.

"I didn't mean to, Eric," Johnny said quite meekly; "I guess 'twill dry in the sun."

"Then you had better put it there," said Mr. Van Rasseulger; "you are tearing the leaves by holding the book in your wet hands." Johnny spread the guide-book upon a sunny window-seat, listening with interest to Eric's proposal.

"I must study the route on the map down stairs; and if you are willing, uncle John, I will go out now with Johnny and get the tickets."

"Certainly," said his uncle; "but my advice would be to study a dry guide-book and the map before getting the tickets; there may be a choice of routes."

This was excellent advice, as the boys soon found. There were three routes, and some time elapsed before they decided upon one.

At length they chose the shortest of all, as their time was limited and they wanted it all for Strasbourg. Their choice, therefore, fell upon the most direct route, it being straight across the country of France, and for a distance of about two hundred and fifty miles traversed by rail.

They consulted with Monsieur Richarte, the landlord, and their uncle, and decided to take an early train on the following morning. A ride of eight hours would suffice for the journey, and their early start would enable them to have a few hours for sight-seeing in the day and twilight.

But tourists should always allow for detention. For although Mr. Van Rasseulger saw them safely aboard the early train in the morning, an accident detained them at Vitry, and when they reached Strasbourg it was night—a dark, rainy, dismal night.

They rode directly to the principal hotel, a large, roomy, comfortable-looking place, and immediately after supper proceeded to their room for the night.

Before retiring, Johnny looked out from between the crimson window curtains, to see what he could of the city; but little was visible. Opposite the window was a little two-story house, with queer stagings about the chimneys. He called Eric to look at them, saying he guessed the chimneys were being rebuilt.

"No, Johnny," said Eric. "You will find those stagings upon almost every house here. They are erected by the house-owners for the especial accommodation of storks that build in the chimneys and are the street scavengers of Strasbourg."

"Are they?" said Johnny, sleepily; "well, let's go to bed." They were both very tired and sleepy boys, and prepared for a good night's rest.

"I think I shall sleep well," Johnny remarked.

"And I'm sure I shall," said Eric. "I've travelled nearly six hundred miles since night before last."

But they were destined to disappointment, for from the large, open fireplace in the room there issued, all night long, a continuous wailing, moaning, rustling sound, caused by the wind; added to which were the dismal groanings of the old storks and piping of the young ones.

It seemed to Eric that he had but just fallen asleep, when Johnny was shaking him and hallooing in his ear.

"Eric! Eric! it's a splendid morning! Get up quick. I want to go out and see the sights. Hurry up!"

"Yes," said Eric.

Johnny scampered down stairs, and before long Eric joined him in the hall, where the impatient boy was walking on his hands, with his heels in the air, by way of diversion.

"All ready?" he cried, and resumed a position more convenient and becoming for a promenade, as they started.

They had a fine, breezy walk.

Strasbourg is not far from the Rhine; and one of its tributaries, the graceful, sparkling Ill River, which, as Johnny suggested, is a very good stream, washes the city's walls and supplies it with water.

This city is famous for its immense fortifications, its Minster, or Cathedral, and the Astronomical Clock of the Three Sages.

Its form is triangular, and the entire city is enclosed by a bastioned line of ramparts and several outworks.

There are seven entrance gates, and on the east side is a strong pentagonal or five-sided tower.

There is a network of sluices, by which the surrounding country can be inundated. Strasbourg is one of the most important fortresses and arsenals of France, besides being its principal depot of artillery. It is pleasantly situated, but most of its streets are narrow, with lofty eaves-drooping houses.

The boys were surprised to hear its inhabitants speaking German instead of French, but learned that the town was originally German, and was ceded to France in one of the Louis XIV. wars, when it became the capital of Bas Rhin, a division of France, on the eastern frontier.

In many of the streets of Strasbourg are little wooden bridges, similar to canal bridges. These are built over the Ill, which intersects the city in all directions.

When Eric and Johnny took their stroll, it was market-day, and, even at that early hour, the streets presented a lively scene.

Carts and drays were the stalls in the open street, and people were buying and selling at a great rate.

The fish stalls were surrounded by storks; but the people seemed to mind them no more than the birds minded the people. These storks are great favorites with Germans. In Strasbourg they are as tame as our domestic hens, and it is very comical to see them strutting importantly about, as if they had as good a right to the sidewalk as the other citizens.

The boys returned to the hotel with ravenous appetites, but, hungry as they were, could not appreciate the described daintiness of a most apparently unpalatable pie, called pate de foie gras; so they were obliged to content themselves with other edibles and fragrant French coffee.

"Now for the minster!" said Eric, as they arose from the table.

"The minister?" exclaimed Johnny; "what for?"

Eric laughed.

"Not minister, but minster. A minster is a cathedral church."

"I don't care much about the minster, then," said Johnny, running up stairs on all fours. "I've seen cathedrals till I'm sick of them. But this clock is curious, and I'm anxious to see it."

"Johnny," expostulated Eric, "walk properly. You ought to have been a monkey.—And that reminds me," he added, "I must feed Froll and fasten her, that she may do no mischief while we're at the cathedral."

Little Froll received an ample breakfast, and her silver chain was securely fastened. Then the boys left her.

When they had been gone a while, and her breakfast had disappeared, Froll became lonesome, and cast her eyes about to see with what mischief she might best employ herself. But thoughtful Eric had placed every temptation out of her reach.

Meanwhile Eric and Johnny were viewing the wonders of the famous astronomical clock.

This clock is in the Strasbourg Cathedral. It was built in the cathedral, before its completion, in the year 1439, and was invented by Isaac Habrecht, a Jewish astrologer.

European clocks were first invented in the eleventh century, by the Saracens, and used principally for monasteries. They were very rude, simple affairs, and sometimes would only "go" when somebody pushed the pendulum, which was rather inconvenient than otherwise.

So wise mathematicians tried to make improvements; and some succeeded, among whom was Isaac Habrecht, who, in the fourteenth century, invented the most wonderful clock in the world, and called it the "Clock of the Three Sages," because once in every hour the figures of the Three Kings of the Orient came out from a niche in its side, and made a reverential bow before an image of the Virgin Mary, seated just above the dial-plate, on the front of the clock.

It is built of dark wood, gilded and carved, and is sixty feet high. In shape it is somewhat similar to a church, with a tower on either side of the entrance; and these towers of the clock are encircled by spiral staircases, which are used when repairs are necessary.

When Isaac Habrecht invented this wonderful clock, he meant it to run forever, always displaying to the good people of Strasbourg the days of the month, places of the sun and moon, and other celestial phenomena; and while he lived it worked admirably: but when he had been dead a while, the clock stopped; and as nobody else understood its machinery, it had quite a vacation.

After a while, however, the good people of Strasbourg took it in hand, and it was repaired and set going—only to stop again. Thus it went on until Napoleon's time.

Strasbourg, originally a German town, was ceded to Louis XIV. in 1681; so the clock was French property, and Napoleon decided it must be brought to life again. Under the most skilful French and German machinists this repairing took place. It was eminently successful this time, and, when completed, was a great improvement on the old clock.

It will now give not only the time of Strasbourg, but of every principal city in the world; also the day of the week and month, the course of the sun and planets, and all the eclipses of the sun and moon, in their regular order.

In an alcove, above the dial, is an image of the Saviour; and every day, at noon, figures of the twelve apostles march round it and bow, while the holy image, with uplifted hands, administers a silent blessing. A cock, on the highest point of the right hand tower, flaps his wings and crows three times; and when he stops, a beautiful chime of bells rings out familiar and very musical tunes.

A figure of Time, in a niche on one side, strikes the quarter hours from twelve to one; and four figures—Childhood, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age—pass slowly before him. In a niche, on the other side is an angel turning an hour-glass. The clock is in the south transept of the cathedral.

Persons travelling abroad usually take Strasbourg on their route, to visit its cathedral,—the spire of which is the highest in the world, being four hundred and sixty feet high,—and to see its wonderful astronomical clock.

Eric and Johnny were very much pleased with the famous clock. The guide who explained and told its history to them was very good-natured, and even allowed them to ascend the tower of the cathedral, which, usually, is not allowable.

Here they had a most magnificent view, which I cannot attempt to describe, and only advise you to go and see it for yourself.

Before leaving the cathedral, they bought two photographs of the wonderful clock, intending to send them home, with a description of their visit to Strasbourg.

By the time their explorations were finished, Johnny declared that he was so hungry, he could almost eat one of those goose pies. The morning was quite gone. It would soon be time to take the train for Lucerne, and they must have dinner.

"Won't Froll be glad to see us back!" exclaimed Johnny, as they reached their room; "she doesn't like to be left alone."

Eric had bought some nuts for the little creature, and went with them straightway to her cage.

The cage was just as he left it; the silver chain was there, too, fastened to one of the bars and to the tiny collar; but the collar hung dangling at the end of the chain, and Froll was nowhere to be seen.



CHAPTER XI.

ERIC IN TROUBLE.

A thorough search was instantly made; but neither around the room, nor behind the furniture, nor upon the gallery roof, were any traces to be found of the lost Frolic.

"It is too bad," cried Eric, in perplexity, while Johnny looked ready to cry. "We must speak to the landlord, and ask him what we are to do."

Eric's German was by no means perfect; but he managed to make the good-natured landlord understand their trouble. He made inquiries of all, directly; but no one had seen the little monkey since the boys had left her. He did not think it at all likely that she had been stolen, for no one could get to the boys' room without being noticed by some of the servants, and he was quite sure that she would return safely to her comfortable quarters; so he advised the boys to leave the window open for her, and to go at once to the dinner he had been for some time keeping for them.

His sensible advice was unwillingly followed; but Froll took no advantage of the window left open for her benefit.

Eric and Johnny waited and watched impatiently, until it was almost time to start for the train. Then Eric left directions with the landlord, in case the monkey should be found and captured; promising to send for her. He was just going to call Johnny, when he heard his voice, crying, excitedly, "Eric, Eric!" and hoping Froll had returned, ran quickly up the stairs.

"See there, what I found on the floor," exclaimed Johnny, as he entered the room, and held up before Eric's astonished gaze a jewelled ring, that flashed and sparkled in the sunlight.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Eric; "on the floor of this room?"

"Yes," answered Johnny, "on the floor, just where you're standing. It's a mercy we haven't stepped on it. Don't you think so?"

"We must find the owner at once. Isn't it splendid!" said Eric, admiringly; "three diamonds and an emerald; it must have cost a fortune."

Just at this juncture the door opened, and the landlord, followed by a French officer and a civilian, entered the room. The landlord exclaimed, in German,—

"I beg your pardon, young gentlemen, but a serious loss has occurred in the house, and as you are about leaving it, perhaps you will be kind enough to let us inspect—"

"Ah! mon Dieu! il y ait!"[1] screamed the French civilian, darting towards Eric and John, and, snatching the ring from Johnny's hand, displayed it triumphantly before the landlord and the officer.

"I found it on the floor," said Johnny. "Is it yours?"

"A likely story!" muttered the Frenchman.

"I'm very glad you've got it," said Eric, with dignity. "My cousin found it on the floor a minute ago, and we were on the point of taking it to the landlord when you came in."

Eric spoke slowly and distinctly, and with an air of honest truth that at once convinced the landlord. But the excitable little Frenchman, who had been clasping the precious ring, and murmuring, "Ciel, ciel! ah, ciel!" in an incoherent way, now sprang at Eric, and grasping him by the collar, exclaimed, angrily, "O, you fine fellow! you wicked one! where is my—my gold?—my gold? where is it?" and he gave the boy a series of shakes.

Eric's anger was fully aroused. With flashing eyes, "How dare you!" he said, indignantly, and, turning upon the Frenchman, flung him with some violence against the wall.

This made the little Frenchman still more furious; he would have sprung again upon Eric, but the officer interfered. Johnny, with his eyes almost starting from his head, had terrifiedly regarded this little scene, doubling his fists to aid in Eric's rescue.

Eric turned indignantly to the landlord,—

"What is the meaning of all this? Are two defenceless American boys, your guests, to be openly insulted in your presence without protection?"

"Count D'Orsay has been robbed of his diamond ring and a sum of money," explained the landlord. "He insisted that no person should leave the hotel without examination. That is why we came to you. He has found the ring in your hands, which is very astonishing, and he now suspects you of having the gold."

The landlord spoke gently, and seemed grieved to be obliged to hurt their feelings, as he knew his implied meaning must.

Poor Eric's face flushed hotly with shame and anger, while Johnny cried, furiously, "Eric, Eric, for pity's sake send for papa! He will teach that hateful Frenchman what it is to call us thieves."

"Be quiet, John!" said Eric, imperiously. "Come here."

"Now, sir," turning to the landlord, "please to let your officer search us, and then our baggage. Do it at once, for we are to leave Strasbourg directly."

"Indeed!" sneered Count D'Orsay. "Perhaps you will not leave Strasbourg for the present. Search them, officer."

The officer advanced reluctantly, and, by his expression of sympathy, showed himself much more a gentleman than the titled count, whose habitual politeness had been driven away by Eric's powerful thrust.

The landlord, although deeply sympathetic, and convinced of their honesty, was powerless to resist Count D'Orsay. He was a German innholder, and the count a wealthy, influential French nobleman, with a proper warrant for searching his house. So he could in no way protect the boys from the indignity put upon them. But he hailed with joy Johnny's suggestion to send for his father, deciding to do so at once, if they should be detained.

Of course no gold was found upon either of them, except that given to Eric for tickets and hotel expenses, and none was found in their baggage.

But just as they were preparing to leave the place, having been released by the officer, Count D'Orsay uttered an exclamation, and pointed to a fauteuil—an easy chair—by the window.

"Celui-la!"

The officer stepped to the chair, and found, tucked between the cushion and the arm, a silk purse, full of gold pieces.

Eric and Johnny were horror-stricken, and the good landlord was dumb with astonishment.

The French count held up the purse triumphantly, and jingled the gold before Eric's eyes, exclaiming, tauntingly,—

"It is mine, and I have it. The prison is yours, and you shall have it."

"Eric, Eric," cried Johnny, in agony of terror, "they can't send us to prison. We haven't done anything. We didn't know the money was there, or the ring. O, what shall we do? Send for papa!"

Eric's face was very white, and his hand trembled visibly, as he wrote his uncle's address on a card, and requested the landlord to send for him.

Count D'Orsay wished them to be at once conducted to prison: but this the landlord would not allow, and the officer declared was unnecessarily severe. They might remain in their room, with a guard, and the landlord would be responsible for their remaining.

As soon as the detestable Frenchman had gone, Johnny threw himself at full length upon the floor, crying violently. Eric could not comfort him, but sat at the window, with a proud, defiant face and swelling heart.

Presently the kind landlord came again to them.

He had sent word by telegraph to Johnny's father, and received a return message. Mr. Van Rasseulger would be with them by night.

This was comforting. And gradually the boys thought less and less of their trouble, and became quite interested in making conjectures with the landlord as to when and how the money and jewels came into their room, and if Froll's disappearance could be owing to the same cause, or in any way connected with it, and if she would probably return at night.

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said Eric; "and perhaps, by being detained here, we shall find her."



"I don't care what they do when papa gets here," said Johnny, whose faith in his father's power was limitless. "He'll just fix that Count D'Orsay."

Meanwhile Mr. Van Rasseulger was whizzing rapidly towards them in the afternoon train, and another powerful friend was coming from an opposite direction.

——-

[1] O Heaven! he has it!



CHAPTER XII.

"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."

One, two, three, four, five, six, sounded a deep-throated bell upon the evening air, and then a chime of bells played Luther's Chant.

"O, dear!" groaned Johnny; "that's the wonderful clock; I wish we had let it alone."

"Hark!" exclaimed Eric.

His quick ear had caught the sound of footsteps upon the stairway leading to their room, and he fancied them to be his uncle's. He was right. The door opened presently, and Mr. Van Rasseulger was with them.

"Well, what is all this nonsense?" he exclaimed, grasping Eric's hand, and drawing Johnny into his lap. "A good-natured guardian lets you off for a good time, and you get into trouble the first thing."

Eric related all that had occurred, a little embarrassed at Johnny's admiring remark,—

"You ought to have seen him spin that little dancing Frenchman against the wall, papa. I wish I'd been big enough! I'd have thrashed him!"

"Hush, Johnny," said his father. "Go on, Eric. You say he found the money in the fauteuil. How in the world did the things get into this room?"

"That is just what puzzles everybody," answered Eric, earnestly. "Uncle John, how could it have got there? and the ring, too?"

"Where did you find the ring, Johnny?"

"Right here, sir, upon the floor, by Froll's cage;" answered Johnny, getting up and standing in the place.

"It is very mysterious, certainly," Mr. Van Rasseulger said, "and the strange circumstances give the man strong grounds for suspicion against you. Of course, it is absurd to think that two little boys would have committed such a robbery; yet the ring was found in your hands, and the money concealed in your room, and therefore you are accused."

"But, papa, can't you take us away? We didn't do it."

"You silly boy, I know you did not do it. But would you not rather stay and prove satisfactorily to all that you did not? I should not wish to take you from here while the faintest shadow of a suspicion lingered that you were guilty."

"Nor would I wish to go," said Eric, proudly.

"Well, then we'll stay," said Johnny, dolefully; "but I think it is dreadfully unjust to spoil all our good time. We Americans wouldn't do so to a Frenchman."

"I'm afraid we would, under such suspicious evidences," said his uncle. "But you needn't worry about it, boys; every cloud has a silver lining."

"It isn't pleasant to know we can't go out of our room," said Eric.

"No: I must arrange about that," Mr. Van Rasseulger answered. "I will write a note to the American consul, and get you released."

Eric started suddenly to his feet.

"I am sure I heard Mr. Lacelle's voice," he said.

"You couldn't have," said Johnny. "You left him at Amsterdam."

"I did, I know I did!" persisted Eric. "There it is again: that is he! O, Uncle John, go out and tell him about it."

His uncle left them, and before long returned, actually bringing Mr. Lacelle with him.

The diver was surprised beyond measure to find his favorite Eric in Strasbourg, and highly indignant at the circumstance which detained him.

"You are the most honest boy that ever lived," he cried, and told Mr. Van Rasseulger about the box of sovereigns. "But come, tell me all about this," he added.

Eric again related the incident, beginning with his discovery of Froll's disappearance, and ending with the charge of theft and threat of prison.

Johnny, who despite his dislike of Frenchmen in general, cordially liked Mr. Lacelle, was surprised to see his gradually increasing excitement as Eric's story progressed. At its termination, he started to his feet, and rapidly pacing the floor, exclaimed, joyfully,—

"Ha! a bon chat, bon rat!"[2]

"What have cats and rats to do with it?" thought Eric.

"He is crazy!" thought Johnny.

"Ah!" thought Mr. Van Rasseulger, "can he see through the millstone?"

"Eric, your good name shall be cleared of all suspicion. Give me your hand!" exclaimed Mr. Lacelle. "I congratulate you, lad! I know who did the mischief."

"Do you?" exclaimed the astonished boy.

"Yes, my friend," answered the Frenchman, and darted from the room.

"Here's a go!" cried Johnny, thrusting his hands into his pockets and striking an attitude; "he knows, and he hasn't told us what he knows, and I think his nose ought to be pulled."

"Do be still, Johnny," said Eric, "it's no time for jokes. Uncle John, what could he have meant?"

"I am totally in the dark," replied his uncle.

"I wish Froll would come back," murmured Johnny.

"I have it!" cried Eric, suddenly, rushing from the room, by the guard at the door, and after Mr. Lacelle.

"Well," said Johnny, "I wish I had!"

Count D'Orsay's conscience was not quite easy in regard to the manner in which he had persecuted the two friendless American boys. His suspicions had been aroused merely by the fact that they were about to leave Strasbourg; and the discovery of the missing articles in their possession had seemed at the time to prove their guilt conclusively. But upon reflection, the honest surprise expressed in little Johnny's eyes, and Eric's look of proud, indignant disdain, haunted him with suggestions of their innocence.

Might it not have been just possible that they did find the ring upon the floor, and did not know of the money's concealment? But, then—how could it be so? How could the ring and money have happened in their room, and for what purposes? Yet, again, if they did intend to steal, they had given up everything. He had lost nothing; and the French government would not thank him for quarrelling with an American just at that time. He would send word to the landlord to dismiss the policeman and let the boys have their liberty.

Just as this conclusion was reached, there came a tap at the door, and the waiter entered with Mr. Lacelle's card, followed closely by Mr. Lacelle.

Count D'Orsay expressed great pleasure at the unexpected visit; but Mr. Lacelle, waiving all ceremony, explained that he had come to clear his dear American friends from the disgraceful charge against them.

He then spoke rapidly, in French, to the count, who appeared at first surprised, then credulous, then convinced.

With sincere regret, he asked to be allowed to apologize at once, and begged Mr. Lacelle to tell him of some way in which he could make some amends for his unjust accusation.

"I wish you to be thoroughly convinced," said Mr. Lacelle. "Place the articles upon the table, open the window, and conceal yourself behind the curtain."

Mr. Lacelle did so.

——-

[2] "To a good cat, a good rat!"



CHAPTER XIII.

THE REAL THIEF.

Eric, when he reached the hall, was called by the landlord, who said,—

"I am having the rooms searched, at Monsieur Lacelle's request, for your little monkey. Will you come with me? We may catch her more easily."

Eric was very glad to assist in the search. When nearly all the front rooms had been thoroughly examined, to no purpose, the little truant was found at last in the upper story asleep, on a soft cushion, in the sunlight. Eric stole up softly and took possession of her.

She awoke with a loud chatter of defiance, and tried to escape, but Eric held her fast.

The landlord then ordered a servant to close all the windows in the front of the hotel, excepting those of Count D'Orsay, whose room was above that of the two boys.

Eric hastened, at his request, for Froll's collar and chain, which were fastened upon her, and then she was released upon the balcony under the window of the boy's room, the landlord, Eric, Johnny, and Mr. Van Rasseulger watching her movements with intense interest.

Meanwhile the count and Mr. Lacelle were stationed behind the window curtains, on the lookout for the marauder.

Presently there was a sliding, scrambling, shuffling noise, and the thief came in through the window—not Eric, nor Johnny, but a being very insufficiently attired, and possessed of a long black tail; no less a personage than the little monkey, Froll.

She walked straight to the table, climbed upon it, seized the ring, purse, and a gold pencil which Mr. Lacelle had laid there. Then she withdrew to the window, but to her rage and disappointment it was shut tight, and the two gentlemen confronted her.

The little beast recognized Mr. Lacelle, and coolly handed him her stolen freight, which was quickly restored to its rightful owner.

Thoroughly convinced of his unjust cruelty to Eric and Johnny, Count D'Orsay descended to the balcony, offering sincere and earnest apologies.

Eric and Johnny, by turns hugging and scolding Froll, freely forgave the indignity put upon them, and shook hands cordially with the mortified count.

Mr. Lacelle was in his glory. He shook hands with the monkey, stroked the boys' heads, and called Mr. Van Rasseulger "my dear" in his excitement; telling everybody how he had instantly surmised the true offender, on hearing of Froll's disappearance, and recalling the scene at Gravenhaag, when she had stolen his glasses, climbing in then through the open window. Finally he expressed an opinion that Froll had formerly belonged to an unprincipled master, who had trained her to climb in at windows and take away valuables.

And here we will take an opportunity to remark that this was really the case, and that Eric subsequently learned that the man of whom Mr. Nichols bought her was arrested and imprisoned for practising with another monkey the same trick.

Count D'Orsay could not be pacified until Mr. Van Rasseulger promised that the boys should visit him at the Hotel D'Orsay, on their return to France.

His conscience smote him for his unjust severity and unkindness, all the more for the frank, confiding way in which the two little heroes begged him to forget the incident.

When they shook hands cordially with him, a glad cheer ascended from the throng of servants and spectators, whose honest hearts took a lively interest in the affair.

The boys and Froll were made much of; and Mr. Lacelle delighted Johnny for hours with accounts of the wonders of the sea, so that the young gentleman, completely fascinated, made up his mind to be a submarine diver when he grew up.

Froll's collar was tightened, and she was fastened to her cage, after having a bountiful feast of nuts.

When the evening was about half spent, a waiter brought a large parcel to the door. It was addressed to "The Two Young Gentlemen at Room No. 37," and contained books, toys, games, and confectionery, of which the count begged their acceptance.

"This has been a day of adventures," said Eric, as he and Johnny were retiring late at night.

"Yes," answered Johnny, sleepily, nestling between the sheets, "it has been a day of adventures, beginning with the wonderful clock, and ending with—Froll's—Froll's—the count—" and with a little more indistinct muttering, Johnny was fast asleep. Eric had read his chapter, and said his prayers with Johnny; but now, as he looked at his little cousin asleep, a sudden impulse seized him, and falling upon his knees by the bedside, he prayed that his influence over Johnny might always be for good, and that God would bless the bright, loving little boy, and make him a lamb of His fold for the good Shepherd's sake.



CHAPTER XIV.

PERCY, BEAUTY, AND JACK.

Mr. Van Rasseulger decided to take the boys to Heidelberg, and there await Dr. Ward. It was inconvenient for him to do this, but he was unwilling to let them travel alone with the monkey again, for Froll was certainly a serious trouble.

So on the morning of the following day they took the steamer for an eighty mile sail down the Rhine.

The landlord, Mr. Lacelle, and Count D'Orsay bade them an affectionate adieu, after the two former had been sincerely thanked for their kindness to the young strangers, and the latter had begged them to renew their promise of a visit before they returned to America. To Mr. Van Rasseulger he extended an urgent invitation to visit him, whenever it should be convenient to him.

Just before they left, Mr. Lacelle requested Eric's address, saying that he had written to Mr. Montgomery about the box of money, and would forward his reply to Eric.

The boys were not sorry to leave Strasbourg, because Mr. Van Rasseulger had told them he should propose to the doctor to obtain horses there, and travel on horseback through the Black Forest, and over the mountains, to Munich, in Bavaria.

They were enchanted with this idea, and during their sail down the Rhine lost much of the beautiful scenery about them in mutual conjectures as to whether uncle Charlie would like the proposition. When they reached Heidelberg, the doctor was already there, waiting for them.

He was quite well satisfied with the plan, and said he would give the boys two days to explore Heidelberg, and would meantime be making the necessary arrangements.

The boys did not like Heidelberg particularly, and Eric's shoulders were shrugged expressively when his uncle told him he was to be a student in the university, after his school course was completed.

The only building of which they took any notice was the Church of the Holy Ghost—a large structure with a very high steeple, divided so that Protestant and Roman Catholic services were held in it at the same time.

But perhaps the picturesque old town might have had more attraction for them, had not Dr. Ward and Mr. Van Rasseulger been looking up good horses to purchase for the journey.

They soon found just what they wanted—a large, powerful horse for the doctor, and a couple of small horses, almost ponies, for the two boys.

It was amusing to see the different evidences of delight manifested by Eric and Johnny.

Eric's face flushed with glad emotion, and a quiet "Uncle John, how good you are!" was all that he said.

But Johnny danced around the horses, wild with delight, throwing his cap in the air, dancing and hurrahing with all his might, and bestowing kisses indiscriminately upon his good papa and the dumb animals.

One of the horses was coal black, with a white star upon his forehead, and one white foot; he was for Eric.

Johnny's was a bright bay, with four white feet and a white nose: and the doctor's was a chestnut-colored horse, with a darker mane and tail.

Of course the first great question was, what they were to be called.

"I have named my horse 'Perseus,'" said the doctor, "in honor of the illustrious slayer of the Gorgon Medusa, and the deliverer of Andromeda."

"I'll call mine 'Jack,' in honor of papa," said roguish Johnny.

"And mine," exclaimed Eric, "shall be Bucephalus."

Eric had just finished reading a classical history, and was greatly interested in the account of Alexander's power over Bucephalus.

These names were soon abbreviated to "Percy," "Beauty," and "Jack."

After the horses had been duly admired, Mr. Van Rasseulger took the boys with him, selected saddles, with travellers' saddle-bags, rubber cloaks, a couple of blankets, and two tin boxes for provisions, with an inside compartment for matches. The rubber cloaks were made with hoods, which could be drawn over the head, completely protecting it.

Dr. Ward provided himself with similar apparel, and numerous little things which the boys had no idea would be necessary, and even Mr. Van Rasseulger overlooked.

The next morning everything was in readiness. The blankets, light overcoats, rubber cloaks, and a change of clothing, were made into a roll, and strapped behind the saddles. The tin cases were filled for luncheon, and deposited in the saddle-bags, and the boys declared themselves in readiness.

But when the doctor presented them each with a light knapsack, a tiny compass to wear upon their watch chains, and a pocket drinking cup, they instantly discovered that they could never in the world have got along without them.

The horses were pawing the ground, impatient to be off, their long manes and tails floating in the cool morning breeze, their noble forms quivering with life and excitement.

Johnny, divided between regret at parting with his father, and delight at the novel excursion; Eric, eager and excited, with mischievous Froll, demure enough just now, seated composedly upon his shoulder; the doctor coolly testing the saddle girths, and Mr. Van Rasseulger seeing them off, happy in their pleasure.

"Be good and kind to my boy, as you have always been, Eric," he said, bidding his nephew "good by."

"You mean, uncle John, as you have always been to me," Eric replied, with gratitude beaming in his eyes. "And Johnny is a dear little fellow; no one could help being good to him."

"I hope he will grow like his cousin," said Mr. Van Rasseulger, with a hearty smile; "and, Johnny-boy, you must be very obedient to uncle Charlie. Do right, be a gentleman, and grow stout and healthy for papa."

"We will write from Baden and Ulm," said the doctor. "We ought to get there by next week."

After a few more words of parting they set off, and were soon out of sight.

Three hours later, as Mr. Van Rasseulger, on his way to Vienna by rail, passed a turn in the road, the three travellers were in sight for an instant, apparently in good spirits and prime condition.

He was extremely pleased with this unexpected view of them, and for some time after they had again disappeared the wealthy New York merchant lay back in his cushioned seat, building hopes of high promise upon the future of Johnny's life.

Poor Johnny! he had been almost spoiled at home, but under the doctor's firm guidance and Eric's good influence, was wonderfully improved. The bright, merry little fellow was exhibiting his true character, long hidden by ill-advised indulgence.



CHAPTER XV.

THE LAST.

Up the banks of the beautiful Rhine, through picturesque hamlets, over high, rugged mountains, and in the glory and grandeur of the forests, our horseback travellers sought and found the best of all treasures—health and happiness.

The Swabian Mountains, and the Schwarz Wold, or Black Forest,—a group of mountains covered with forests,—through which they rode thirty-seven miles, required from them the greatest endurance.

Nevertheless, upon the woody mountains, steep and difficult to climb as they were, they found several thriving villages, where they were kindly received, and where all their wants were generously supplied.

But on one occasion, when a violent storm arose, and they were near no village, they were obliged to take shelter in an empty barn, and there remained through the night, sleeping, with their horses, upon the hard, board floor, with their knapsacks for pillows.

And Johnny had one thrilling adventure.

They had encamped for the night upon a small plateau, and, before dismounting, Johnny rode back to the edge, and was looking down upon the plains beneath, when suddenly he felt the ground give way from above where his horse was standing, and in an instant horse and rider, covered by a bank of sand, were sliding helplessly down the mountain. The shower of sand smothered their cries, and neither the doctor nor Eric noticed their disappearance at first. But presently Eric, turning to speak to him, exclaimed,—

"Where in the world is Johnny?"

The doctor looked hastily up. Seeing the fresh earth at the edge of the plateau, he rushed to the spot, examined it, and exclaiming, "Heavens! the child has fallen down a slide!" prepared to descend in the same place.

"Eric, stay up there, and take care of the horses," he said, and was soon out of sight.

Eric secured the horses, and then crept to the place from which the doctor had disappeared. He found, just beneath him, a long line of large troughs, open at both ends, and overlapping each other like shingles. It extended entirely down the side of the mountain, and to his horror Eric saw at its foot a lake.

"O, Johnny, Johnny! my dear little cousin! And uncle Charlie, too—they will surely be killed!" he cried, in agony. For he knew at once that they had gone down a timber slide, and was afraid they would be drowned in the lake.

And now I suppose I must tell you what a timber slide is.

The Black Forest Mountains are covered with large and valuable trees, which are felled and sold by their owners; and as it would be decidedly inconvenient to take horses and carts up the mountain, and utterly impossible to get them down with a heavy load of those giant trees with sound necks, an ingenious Swiss invented the cheap and rapid way of getting the trees off the mountain by means of a slide, formed of immense troughs lapped together, and terminating in the lake, where the heavy logs are chained together and floated to a railway or wharf, just as they are done in our own country by the loggers of the Maine forests and other woody regions.

Of course a descent in one of these slides, under ordinary circumstances, would be extremely dangerous to human life and limb. But it fortunately happened that neither the doctor, Johnny, nor Jack were seriously injured, for the slide had been disused for some time, and in consequence of an accident, somewhat similar to Johnny's, had been partially removed, and a high, soft bank of sand lay at its new terminus.

Johnny and Jack were pitched violently into this, and rescued from their very uncomfortable position by a party of English travellers encamped near by.

Many were the exclamations uttered at the marvellous and sudden entrance of our young friend upon the quiet beauties of the twilight scene, and bewildered Johnny scarcely knew whether to laugh or cry.

His first anxiety was for Jack, but the English gentleman who drew him from the sand-bank would pay no attention to the horse until he was convinced that Johnny was unhurt. Assured about this, he patted and soothed poor frightened Jack, and walked him carefully over the soft greensward, to see if he appeared at all lame; and then Johnny was delighted enough to hear the horse pronounced all right.

Johnny had several pretty bad bruises, which the Englishman, who was a physician, dressed for him.

By the time this was done Dr. Ward, whose descent had been much slower and more careful than Johnny's, reached them, and his anxieties were at once quieted by Johnny's assurance that it was

"Just the jolliest coast I ever had."

After examining both Johnny and Jack, to assure himself of their well-being, and heartily thanking the Englishman for his kind assistance, the doctor asked permission to leave Johnny under his care until he could get Eric and the horses from the top of the mountain.

The new friend willingly undertook the care of Johnny, and the doctor hastened up the mountain to relieve Eric's anxiety.

Johnny seated himself near the door of the tent, and a young man of the party brought him some grapes. Jack neighed wistfully for his share, for Johnny had made a great pet of him, always dividing his fruit with him.

"I'll give you some, Jack," he said, walking towards the horse. "Gracious, how stiff and sore I feel."

While Jack was champing his feast with great satisfaction, an English boy, of Johnny's size, came towards them.

"Is that your horse?" said he.

"Yes," answered Johnny; "isn't he a good one?"

"Is he a good one?" asked the boy.

"I guess he is," said Johnny, hotly; "there isn't a better horse anywhere."

"But papa's groom told me," persisted the English lad, "that a horse with four white feet and a white nose was worthless. He says,—

'One white foot, buy him, Two white feet, try him, Three white feet, deny him, Four white feet and a white nose, Take off his skin and throw him to the crows.'"

Johnny detected a roguish glitter in his companion's blue eyes, and with a corresponding twinkle in his own, merely answered,—

"My old nurse says,—

'There was an old woman went up in a basket Seventy times as high as the moon.'

I suppose you believe that, too."

This ready answer pleased the other, and they were soon fast friends.

"What is your name?" Johnny asked.

"Arthur Montgomery," was the reply.

Johnny wondered where he had heard the name before; but though he was sure he had heard it, he could not remember where.

He began to feel quite tired and sleepy before the doctor returned for him, and his bruises ached badly. Once he would have cried and worried every one about him, if in such an uncomfortable state; but now he bore the pain like a Spartan.

The doctor came at last, and after thanking the Englishman again, he led the tired horse, with weary Johnny upon his back, to a wood-cutter's cottage near at hand, where they were to pass the night.

Eric welcomed them with tears of joy in his eyes.

"O, Johnny, what a narrow escape you have had!"

"We ought to be very thankful," said the doctor.

"Yes," said Johnny, sleepily, "I am thankful!"

He woke up just before Eric went to bed, and said,—

"That boy said his name was Arthur Montgomery. Where have I heard that name, Eric?"

"Why," exclaimed Eric, "that was the name on the box of money I found!"

"I knew I'd heard it somewhere," murmured Johnny, dropping off to sleep again.

Eric ran to tell his uncle.

"Ah," said the doctor, quite pleased to be able to return a good deed, "we will see them in the morning."

But in the morning the English travellers had disappeared, and our party could find no trace of them.

Eric was much disappointed. Now he would be obliged to wait patiently for Mr. Lacelle's letter.

Johnny and Jack were not injured by their descent of the mountain, whose only effects were some pretty sore bruises, which Johnny tried not to mind, and an obstinacy in Jack's disposition that no human powers of persuasion could ever remove. He could never, after that memorable slide, be induced to go near the edge of any kind of an embankment; and he always declined going aboard a steamer, until Beauty and Percy had gone safely over the gangway.



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