"How came you there?" asked Mrs. Moss, ratherdisturbed at the news.

 

　　"Why, my father was the 'Wild Hunter of thePlains.' Didn't you ever see or hear of him?" saidBen, as if surprised at her ignorance.

 

　　"Bless your heart, child, I haven't been to a circusthis ten years, and I'm sure I don't remember whator who I saw then," answered Mrs. Moss, amused, yettouched by the son's evident admiration for his father.

 

　　"Didn't you see him?" demanded Ben, turning tothe little girls.

 

　　"We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the Bounding Brothersof Borneo, and a clown and monkeys, and a little mite of apony with blue eyes. Was he any of them?" answered Betty,innocently.

 

　　"Pooh! he didn't belong to that lot. He alwaysrode two, four, six, eight horses to oncet, and I usedto ride with him till I got too big. My father wasA No. 1, and didn't do any thing but break horsesand ride 'em," said Ben, with as much pride as if hisparent had been a President.

 

　　"Is he dead?" asked Mrs. Moss.

 

　　"I don't know. Wish I did," -- and poor Ben gavea gulp as if something rose in his throat and chokedhim.

 

　　"Tell us all about it, dear, and may be we can findout where he is," said Mrs. Moss, leaning forward topat the shiny dark head that was suddenly bent overthe dog.

 

　　"Yes, ma'am. I will, thank y'," and with an effortthe boy steadied his voice and plunged into themiddle of his story.

 

　　"Father was always good to me, and I liked bein'

 

　　with him after granny died. I lived with her till Iwas seven; then father took me, and I was trained forrider. You jest oughter have seen me when I wasa little feller all in white tights, and a gold belt, andpink riggin', standing' on father's shoulder, or hangin'

 

　　on to old General's tail, and him gallopin' full pelt;or father ridin' three horses with me on his head wavin'

 

　　flags, and every one clapping like fun.""Oh, weren't you scared to pieces?" asked Betty,quaking at the mere thought.

 

　　"Not a bit. I liked it.""So should I!" cried Bab enthusiastically.

 

　　"Then I drove the four ponies in the little chariot,when we paraded," continued Ben, "and I sat onthe great ball up top of the grand car drawed byHannibal and Nero. But I didn't like that, 'causeit was awful high and shaky, and the sun was hot,and the trees slapped my face, and my legs achedholdin' on.""What's hanny bells and neroes?" demandedBetty.

 

　　"Big elephants. Father never let 'em put me upthere, and they didn't darst till he was gone; then Ihad to, else they'd 'a' thrashed me.""Didn't any one take your part? " asked Mrs.

 

　　Moss.

 

　　"Yes, 'm, 'most all the ladies did; they were verygood to me, 'specially 'Melia. She vowed she wouldn'tgo on in the Tunnymunt act if they didn't stop knockin'

 

　　me round when I wouldn't help old Buck with thebears. So they had to stop it, 'cause she led firstrate, and none of the other ladies rode half as wellas 'Melia.""Bears ! oh, do tell about them!" exclaimed Bab,in great excitement, for at the only circus she hadseen the animals were her delight.

 

　　"Buck had five of 'em, cross old fellers, and heshowed 'em off. I played with 'em once, jest for fun,and he thought it would make a hit to have me showoff instead of him. But they had a way of clawin' andhuggin' that wasn't nice, and you couldn't never tellwhether they were good-natured or ready to bite yourhead off. Buck was all over scars where they'dscratched and bit him, and I wasn't going to do it;and I didn't have to, owin' to Miss St. John's standin'

 

　　by me like a good one.""Who was Miss St. John?" asked Mrs. Moss,rather confused by the sudden introduction of newnames and people.

 

　　"Why she was 'Melia, -- Mrs. Smithers, the ringmaster'swife. His name wasn't Montgomery any more'n hers was St.

 

　　John. They all change 'em to something fine on the bills,you know. Father used to be Senor Jose Montebello; and Iwas Master Adolphus Bloomsbury, after I stopped bein' aflyin' Coopid and a infant Progidy."Mrs. Moss leaned back in her chair to laugh atthat, greatly to the surprise of the little girls, whowere much impressed with the elegance of these high-soundingnames.

 

　　"Go on with your story, Ben, and tell why youran away and what became of your Pa," she said,composing herself to listen, really interested in thechild.

 

　　"Well, you see, father had a quarrel with oldSmithers, and went off sudden last fall, just beforetenting season' was over. He told me he wasgoin' to a great ridin' school in New York and whenhe was fixed he'd send for me. I was to stay inthe museum and help Pedro with the trick business.

 

　　He was a nice man and I liked him, and 'Meliawas goin' to see to me, and I didn't mind forawhile. But father didn't send for me, and I beganto have horrid times. If it hadn't been for 'Meliaand Sancho I would have cut away long before Idid.""What did you have to do?""Lots of things, for times was dull and I was smart.

 

　　Smithers said so, any way, and I had to tumble uplively when he gave the word. I didn't mind doin'

 

　　tricks or showin' off Sancho, for father trained him,and he always did well with me. But they wantedme to drink gin to keep me small, and I wouldn't,'cause father didn't like that kind of thing. I usedto ride tip-top, and that just suited me till I got a falland hurt my back; but I had to go on all the same,though I ached dreadful, and used to tumble off, Iwas so dizzy and weak.""What a brute that man must have been! Whydidn't 'Melia put a stop to it?" asked Mrs. Moss,indignantly.

 

　　"She died, ma'am, and then there was no one leftbut Sanch; so I run away."Then Ben fell to patting his dog again, to hide thetears he could not keep from coming at the thoughtof the kind friend he had lost.

 

　　"What did you mean to do?""Find father; but I couldn't, for he wasn't at theridin' school, and they told me he had gone out Westto buy mustangs for a man who wanted a lot. Sothen I was in a fix, for I couldn't go to father, didn'tknow jest where he was, and I wouldn't sneak backto Smithers to be abused. Tried to make 'em takeme at the ridin' school, but they didn't want a boy,and I travelled along and tried to get work. But I'dhave starved if it hadn't been for Sanch. I left himtied up when I ran off, for fear they'd say I stole him.

 

　　He's a very valuable dog, ma'am, the best trick dogI ever see, and they'd want him back more than theywould me. He belongs to father, and I hated to leavehim; but I did. I hooked it one dark night, andnever thought I'd see him ag'in. Next mornin' Iwas eatin' breakfast in a barn miles away, and dreadfullonesome, when he came tearin' in, all mud andwet, with a great piece of rope draggin'. He'dgnawed it and come after me, and wouldn't go backor be lost; and I'll never leave him again, will I, dearold feller?"Sancho had listened to this portion of the tale withintense interest, and when Ben spoke to him he stoodstraight up, put both paws on the boy's shoulders,licked his face with a world of dumb affection in hisyellow eyes, and gave a little whine which said asplainly as words, --"Cheer up, little master; fathers may vanish andfriends die, but I never will desert you."Ben hugged him close and smiled over his curly,white head at the little girls, who clapped theirhands at the pleasing tableau, and then went to patand fondle the good creature, assuring him that theyentirely forgave the theft of the cake and the newdinner-pail. Inspired by these endearments and certainprivate signals given by Ben, Sancho suddenlyburst away to perform all his best antics with unusualgrace and dexterity.

 

　　Bab and Betty danced about the room with rapture,while Mrs. Moss declared she was almost afraid tohave such a wonderfully intelligent animal in thehouse. Praises of his dog pleased Ben more thanpraises of himself, and when the confusion had subsidedhe entertained his audience with a lively accountof Sancho's cleverness, fidelity, and the variousadventures in which he had nobly borne his part.

 

　　While he talked, Mrs. Moss was making up hermind about him, and when he came to an end of hisdog's perfections, she said, gravely, --"If I can find something for you to do, would youlike to stay here awhile?""Oh, yes, ma'am, I'd be glad to!" answered Ben,eagerly; for the place seemed home-like already, andthe good woman almost as motherly as the departedMrs. Smithers.

 

　　"Well, I'll step over to the Squire's to-morrowto see what he says. Shouldn't wonder if he'dtake you for a chore-boy, if you are as smart asyou say. He always has one in the summer, andI haven't seen any round yet. Can you drivecows?""Hope so;" and Ben gave a shrug, as if it was avery unnecessary question to put to a person who haddriven four calico ponies in a gilded chariot.

 

　　"It mayn't be as lively as riding elephants andplaying with bears, but it is respectable; and I guessyou'll be happier switching Brindle and Buttercupthan being switched yourself," said Mrs. Moss, shakingher head at him with a smile.

 

　　"I guess I will, ma'am," answered Ben, with suddenmeekness, remembering the trials from which he hadescaped.

 

　　Very soon after this, he was sent off For a good night'ssleep in the back bedroom, with Sancho to watch overhim. But both found it difficult to slumber till theracket overhead subsided; for Bab insisted on playingshe was a bear and devouring poor Betty, inspite of her wails, till their mother came up and putan end to it by threatening to send Ben and his dogaway in the morning, if the girls "didn't behave andbe as still as mice."This they solemnly promised; and they were soondreaming of gilded cars and mouldy coaches, runawayboys and dinner-pails, dancing dogs and twirling teacups.