He halted suddenly, pulled stiffly on the rope and the wild cry he sent in response echoed mournfully from the high, white crags and died away to a whispering moan, as Prince Jan, with low-hanging head and drooping tail, travelled down the path that his ancestors had trodden many years on their errands of mercy.  He wondered why he had been sent out with a rope tied to his collar, why no older dog went with him, and why he must follow this stranger instead of one of the monks.  Jan felt that he was disgraced.  Someway he had failed.  For a while he followed despondently, then he tried to comfort himself as he trudged at the end of the rope.

“Bruno and mother will know what is the matter,” he thought hopefully.  “I’ll ask them as soon as I get home to-night.”

He looked back wistfully several times to see if the kindly, grey-eyed stranger might be following them, but he had taken the opposite trail from the one Mr. Pixley was travelling.  Jan did not mind the long tramp which ended at a place where houses were scattered about.  Here a carriage and horses were brought, and Jan would have been much interested in these strange things had he not been so worried.  He felt himself lifted into the carriage with Mr. Pixley; then, as it moved, Jan was thrown against the fur coat and looked up in fright.

“You are going to a new land,” Mr. Pixley said, smoothing the pup’s velvety ear.

The dog lifted one paw and laid it on the man’s knee, the brown eyes that looked up were dull with misery.  Jan knew, now, that he was being taken away from the Hospice.

“Won’t you take me back?” he begged.

But the man only heard a little whimper, and gave the dog a quick pat.  “You and Elizabeth will be great friends.  Lie down now and be quiet!”

Jan dropped to the floor of the carriage, his head between his paws, and his eyes that stared at the strange new master were full of wistful pleading.

After that ride came days in a big, dark place that bumped and jerked with horrible noises.  He did not know that he was on a train.  Jan had lived all his life where the only disturbing sounds were the soft thud of melting snow and the hissing of the avalanches down the mountain sides.  These strange noises hurt his ears.  The pain in his heart kept growing until he could only lie still and draw his breath in smothered little whimpers that tore the inside of his throat.  He could not eat nor drink.

When Mr. Pixley took him from the train, the dog was led through crowds of people and bustling, noisy streets that made Jan cringe and cower.  At last they reached a place where water stretched so far that it touched the sky, and the water kept moving all the time.  This frightened him, for he had never seen any water excepting in the little lake at the Hospice, and that water did not move, for it was nearly always frozen over.  Bewildered, Jan hung back, but the man to whom Mr. Pixley had handed the rope dragged