e. Dogs are often named Sancho,
especially Spanish poodles, for the original Sancho was a Spaniard,
you know. This dog is not ours, and I'm so sorry."

The boys faces had fallen dismally as their hope was destroyed; but
Ben would not give up, for him there was and could be only one Sancho
in the world, and his quick wits suggested an explanation which no one
else thought of.

"It may be my dog--they color 'em as we used to paint over trick
horses. I told you he was a valuable chap, and those that stole him
hide him that way, else he'd be no use, don't you see, because we'd
know him."

"But the black dog had no tail," began Thorny, longing to be
convinced, but still doubtful.

Ben shivered as if the mere thought hurt him, as he said, in a grim
tone:

"They might have cut Sanch's off."

"Oh, no! no! they mustn't, they wouldn't!"

"How could any one be so wicked?" cried Bab and Betty, horrified at
the suggestion.

"You don't know what such fellows would do to make all safe, so
they could use a dog to earn their living for 'em," said Ben, with
mysterious significance, quite forgetting in his wrath that he had
just proposed to get his own living in that way himself.

"He no your dog? Sorry I not find him for you. Addio, signorina!
Grazia, signor! Buon giorno, buon giorno," and, kissing his hand, the
Italian shouldered organ and monkey, ready to go.

Miss Celia detained him long enough to give him her address, and beg
him to let her know if he met poor Sanch in any of his wanderings, for
such itinerant showmen often cross each other's paths. Ben and Thorny
walked to the school-corner with him, getting more exact information
about the black dog and his owner, for they had no intention of giving
it up so soon.

That very evening, Thorny wrote to a boy cousin in New York giving
all the particulars of the case, and begging him to hunt up the man,
investigate the dog, and see that the police made sure that everything
was right. Much relieved by this performance, the boys waited
anxiously for a reply, and when it came found little comfort in it.
Cousin Horace had done his duty like a man, but regretted that he
could only report a failure. The owner of the black poodle was a
suspicious character, but told a straight story, how he had bought
the dog from a stranger, and exhibited him with success till he was
stolen. Knew nothing of his history and was very sorry to lose him,
for he was a remarkably clever beast.

"I