the Pixleys had not returned, but Jan did not
know that Mr. Pixley was still very ill. The dog hid or skulked if he
met any person, and his deep growls and twitching nose were so
threatening that no one dared to go nearer. His silky hair was rough and
ragged, raw bleeding spots scarred his body, his eyes were bloodshot and
his tail was almost bare of the long hair that had once made it a
beautiful plume.

His only refuge was the orange grove, where he spent the days sleeping
or licking the bones he stole from garbage pails, for no one ever
thought to put food or water where he could find it. The servants feared
and hated him, and he hated them but did not fear them. He knew his own
strength. If any one threatened to abuse him, Jan was ready to leap and
use his sharp teeth, but so long as people let him alone, he would not
fight.

Late one afternoon, he saw William and a kindly-looking old man with a
long, white beard, talking together. They were watching Jan, as the dog
lay quietly in the hole that was now his only home; his eyes rolled but
he did not lift his head as they came closer.

"He has no use for me," said William, giving a rope to the other man.
"Maybe you can handle him alone, but I don't believe it. He's as big and
strong as a lion."

William pulled a paper from his pocket and held it to the older man,
saying, "Here's a letter from Miss Elizabeth Pixley; you can see what
she says. I wrote her about Jan and asked what we should do with him."

The name of Elizabeth caused Jan's ears to prick up and the fierce light
in his eyes faded. The strange man came close to the dog and spoke
gently. Jan wagged his tail slightly, but kept his eyes on the old man's
face.

"You had better look out," warned William. "He can't be trusted a
minute."

Jan glared at the stableman. "I wanted to love and help people, not hurt
them, until you made me fight," he growled.

"Look out!" cried William. "He's showing his teeth. He is the worst dog
I have ever seen in my life."

The older man studied the dog silently, then smiled and held out his
hand. Jan shrank back suspiciously but allowed the hand to touch his
back.

"I think I can manage him," said the stranger, then he added, "Come,
Jan. Come with me!"

The dog rose to his feet and followed unresistingly down the pathway to
the front of the Pixley home, and past the lawn where he had spent so
many happy hours, along the firm sand on which he had so often raced
beside