away from the station Karl was hidden behind the stove. It was very
dark, but he wasn't frightened. He was close beside Hirschvogel, but
he wanted to be closer still; he meant to get inside the stove. He set
to work like a little mouse to make a hole in the straw and hay. He
gnawed and nibbled, and pushed and pulled, making a hole where he
guessed that the door might be. At last he found it; he slipped
through it, as he had so often done at home for fun, and curled
himself up. He drew the hay and straw together carefully, and fixed
the ropes, so that no one could have dreamed that a little mouse had
been at them. Safe inside his dear Hirschvogel, he went as fast asleep
as if he were in his own little bed at home. The train rumbled on in
its heavy, slow way, and Karl slept soundly for a long time. When he
awoke the darkness frightened him, but he felt the cold sides of
Hirschvogel, and said softly, "Take care of me, dear Hirschvogel, oh,
please take care of me!"

Every time the train stopped, and he heard the banging, stamping, and
shouting, his heart seemed to jump up into his mouth. When the people
came to lift the stove out, would they find him? and if they did find
him, would they kill him? The thought, too, of Hilda, kept tugging at
his heart now and then, but he said to himself, "If I can take
Hirschvogel back to her, how pleased she will be, and how she will
clap her hands!" He was not at all selfish in his love for
Hirschvogel; he wanted it for them at home quite as much as for
himself. That was what he kept thinking of all the way in the darkness
and stillness which lasted so long. At last the train stopped, and
awoke him from a half sleep. Karl felt the stove lifted by some men,
who carried it to a cart, and then they started again on the journey,
up hill and down, for what seemed miles and miles. Where they were
going Karl had no idea. Finally the cart stopped; then it seemed as