mind.

"I tink I see droll dog like he, way off in New York. He do leetle
trick wid letter, and dance, and go on he head, and many tings to
make laugh," said the man, when he had listened to a list of Sanch's
beauties and accomplishments.

"Who had him?" asked Thorny, full of interest at once.

"A man I not know. Cross fellow what beat him when he do letters bad.

"Did he spell his name?" cried Ben, breathlessly.

"No, that for why man beat him. He name Generale, and he go spell
Sancho all times, and cry when whip fall on him. Ha! yes! that name
true one, not Generale?" and the man nodded, waved his hands and
showed his teeth, almost as much excited as the boys.

"It's Sanch! let's go and get him, now, right off!" cried Ben, in a
fever to be gone.

"A hundred miles away, and no clue but this man's story? We must wait
a little, Ben, and be sure before we set out," said Miss Celia, ready
to do almost anything, but not so certain as the boys. "What sort of
a dog was it? A large, curly, white poodle, with a queer tail?" she
asked of Giacomo.

"No, Signorina mia, he no curly, no wite, he black, smooth dog, littel
tail, small, so," and the man held up one brown finger with a gesture
which suggested a short, wagging tail.