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 every thing was right.