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 told my dog man to look about for him, but he says he has probably been killed, with ever so many more, so there is an end of it, and I call it a mean shame." "Good for Horace! I told you he'd do it up thoroughly and see the end of it," said Thorny, as he read that paragraph in the deeply interesting letter. "May be the end of _that_ dog, but not of mine. I'll bet he ran away, and if it _was_ Sanch he'll come home. You see if he doesn't," cried Ben, refusing to believe that all was over. "A hundred miles off? Oh, he couldn't find you without help, smart as he is," answered Thorny, incredulously. Ben looked discouraged, but Miss Celia cheered him up again by saying: