"He wont hurt you----" began Bab, encouragingly; but before she could
add a chiding word to the dog, Sanch gave an excited howl, and flew at
the man's throat as if about to throttle him.

Betty screamed, and Bab was about to go to the rescue when both
perceived that the dog was licking the stranger's face in an ecstasy of
joy, and heard the man say as he hugged the curly beast:

"Good old Sanch! I knew he wouldn't forget master, and he doesn't."

"What's the matter?" called Ben, coming up briskly, with a strong grip
of his stout stick.

There was no need of any answer, for, as he came into the shadow, he saw
the man, and stood looking at him as if he were a ghost.

"It's father, Benny; don't you know me?" asked the man, with an odd sort
of choke in his voice as he thrust the dog away, and held out both hands
to the boy.

Down dropped the nuts, and crying, "Oh, Daddy, Daddy!" Ben cast himself
into the arms of the shabby velveteen coat, while poor Sanch tore round
them in distracted circles, barking wildly, as if that was the only way
in which he could vent his rapture.

What happened next, Bab and Betty never stopped to see, but, dropping
from their roost, they went flying home like startled Chicken Littles
with the astounding news that "Ben's father has come alive, and Sancho
knew him right away!"