You see if he doesn't!" cried Ben, refusing to believe that all was over.
"A hundred wiles 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,-- "Yes, he could.

My father had a friend who left a little dog in Paris; and the creature found her in Milan, and died of fatigue next day.

That was very wonderful, but true; and I've no doubt that if Sanch is alive he will come home.

Let us hope so, and be happy, while we wait." "We will!" said the boys; and day after day looked for the wanderer's return, kept a bone ready in the old place if he should arrive at night, and shook his mat to keep it soft for his weary bones when he came.

But weeks passed, and still no Sanch.
Something else happened, however, so absorbing that he was almost forgotten for a time; and Ben found a way to repay a part of all he owed his best friend.
Miss Celia went off for a ride one afternoon, and an hour afterward, as Ben sat in the porch reading, Lita dashed into the yard with the reins dangling about her legs, the saddle turned round, and one side covered with black mud, showing that she had been down.