But I am sorry to say that there are thieves in the Campagna,
as there are near every great city."
Ercole shrugged his angular shoulders contemptuously.
"Thieves would not carry a man away," he answered. "You know that, you
who are of the profession, as they say. Such ruffians would have knocked
the young gentleman on the head to keep him quiet, and would have made
off. And besides, we should have found their tracks in the sand, and
Nino would have smelt them."
Nino pricked up one ragged ear at the sound of his name.
"He does not look very intelligent," observed the official. "A clever
dog might have been used to track the boy."
"How?" inquired Ercole with scorn. "The footsteps of the young gentleman
were everywhere, with those of all the family, who were always coming
and going about here. How could he track them, or any of us? But he
would have smelt a stranger, even if it had rained. I know this dog. He
is the head dog on the Roman shore. There is no other dog like him."
"I daresay not," assented the Chief of Police, looking at Nino. "In
fact, he is not like any animal I ever saw."
The detectives laughed at this.
"There is no other," said Ercole without a smile. "He is the only son of
a widowed mother. I am his family, and he is my family, and we live in
good understanding in this desert. If there were no fever we should be
like the saints in paradise--eating our corn meal together.
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