Gabriel shook his head.  “Alas, madam, he is not mine,” was all the woman could induce him to say, and she thought his sadness was at the thought of the cap full of pence which she believed he dared not accept for fear of getting into trouble.  Little she knew that if only the golden dog were Gabriel’s very own, no money could buy from the boy the one heart on earth that beat warmly for him, and the graceful, gay coat of flossy silk which he loved to caress; so the farmer’s wife and children were obliged to let the couple go.

Gabriel had seen, the night before, a creek that wandered through the meadow, and before entering the town he ran to it and, pulling off his clothes, jumped in and took a good swim.  Barking with delight, Topaz joined in this new frolic, splashing and swimming about like the jolly little water dog that he was.

When, at last, they came out and were dried, and Gabriel was dressed, they were a fresh looking pair that started out for the town.

Now Gabriel was not so stupid as his brothers believed, and, as he said over to himself the verse he had read that morning in the barn, and looked at Topaz, so winsomely shining after his bath, he began to see how unwise it would be to tell every one he met that he was searching for Topaz’s owner.  There were people in the world, he knew, who would not scruple to pretend that such a pretty creature was their own, even if they had never seen him before; so Gabriel determined to be very careful and to know that God would give him power and a sound mind, if he would not be afraid, as the Book of Life had said.

Now the two entered the town; but from the moment their feet struck the pavements, Topaz’s manner changed.  He kept so close to Gabriel that the boy often came near to stepping on him.

“What ails you, little one?” asked Gabriel, perplexed by his companion’s strange actions.  “Don’t you know that you are going home?”

But Topaz did not bark a reply.  His feathery tail hung down.  He looked at Gabriel only from the tops of his eyes as he clung close to his heels, and he even seemed to the boy to tremble when they crossed the busy streets.

“You mustn’t be afraid, Topaz,” said Gabriel stoutly.  “No one likes a coward.”

But Topaz only clung the closer, sometimes looking from left to right, fearfully.  At last his actions were so strange that Gabriel took him up under his arm.  “Perhaps if we meet his owner he can see him the better so,” thought the boy, and he looked questioningly into the faces of men, women, and children as they passed him by.  No one did more than stare at him after observing the beautiful head that looked out from under his arm.

One good-natured man smiled in passing and said to Gabriel:  “Going to the palace, I suppose.”

This remark astonished the boy very much, and he looked around after the man.

Now there had been some one following Gabriel for the last five minutes, and when he looked around, this person, who was an organ-grinder, quickly turned his back and began grinding out a tune.  At the first sound of it Topaz started and trembled violently and snuggled so close to Gabriel that the latter, who did not connect his action with the music, was dismayed.