Then Ben fell to patting his dog again, to hide the tears he could not
keep from coming at the thought of the kind friend he had lost.

"What did you mean to do?"

"Find father; but I couldn't, for he wasn't at the ridin' school, and
they told me he had gone out West to buy mustangs for a man who wanted a
lot. So then I was in a fix, for I couldn't go to father, didn't know
jest where he was, and I wouldn't sneak back to Smithers to be abused.
Tried to make 'em take me at the ridin' school, but they didn't want a
boy, and I travelled along and tried to get work. But I'd have starved
if it hadn't been for Sanch. I left him tied up when I ran off, for fear
they'd say I stole him. He's a very valuable dog, ma'am, the best trick
dog I ever see, and they'd want him back more than they would me. He
belongs to father, and I hated to leave him; but I did. I hooked it one
dark night, and never thought I'd see him ag'in. Next mornin' I was
eatin' breakfast in a barn miles away, and dreadful lonesome, when he
came tearin' in, all mud and wet, with a great piece of rope draggin'.
He'd gnawed it and come after me, and wouldn't go back or be lost; and
I'll never leave him again, will I, dear old feller?"

Sancho had listened to this portion of the tale with intense interest,
and when Ben spoke to him he stood straight up, put both paws on the
boy's shoulders, licked his face with a world of dumb affection in his
yellow eyes, and gave a little whine which said as plainly as words, --

"Cheer up, little master; fathers may vanish and friends die, but I
never will desert you."