He woke to see waving palms, green grass, flowers, and the warm sunshine of a land where there is never any snow.  His heart, which had been throbbing madly with joy, grew sad.  He looked at his little mistress and her friends smiling at him so kindly, and wished he could tell them his dream and beg them to send him back where he could be useful and do the work of his father and Barry.

But the talk of dogs is different from ours; even people who speak the same language often misunderstand one another.  Once in a great while some person is wise enough and good enough to understand what dogs try to say, but Prince Jan’s little mistress, though she loved him dearly, never knew what was in his heart.

The months slipped away until Jan was fully grown.  His tawny-red and white hair was as soft as silk, and when he put his paws on a man’s shoulders, their eyes were the same height.  In spite of his strength and size, he was gentle and kind.  Every one loved him and he loved everybody.

The only sadness in his life was in knowing that he could not help people in a place where there was no snow.  One night, as he came on the porch, Jan thought it was snowing, and he raced to the spot where he had seen the flakes falling in the bright moonlight; but when he pushed his nose into the white glistening things beneath a tree, he found they were only petals from the orange blossoms, the perfumed snowflakes of California, and Jan lay down among them, the old longing for his home and his work tugging at his heart.

Chapter V

JAN LEARNS TO HATE

Four happy years passed by.  Elizabeth had grown into a beautiful young lady, but she loved Jan as much as ever, and he was always at her side.

Then one morning when Jan, as usual, went to the front porch to tell Mr. Pixley that breakfast was ready, there was no one sitting in the rocker where Jan expected to find his master reading the paper, and no kindly voice called, “All right, Jan!  Tell them I’m coming!”

Slowly the dog went back to the big dining-room.  But Elizabeth and her mother were not in their accustomed places, either.  Puzzled, he trotted through the hallway and up the wide stairs, following the sound of murmuring voices in Mr. Pixley’s room.  Through the half-open door Jan saw two strange men talking to Elizabeth and her mother.  On the bed, very white and quiet, Mr. Pixley was lying.

“The only chance is an operation by Dr. Corey of London,” one of the men spoke to Mrs. Pixley, and the other man nodded.

“We can cable to London and have him sail immediately for New York, while we are on our way from here,” added the second man to Elizabeth, who was watching them very anxiously.

“Do you think my father can stand the trip?” she asked.

“It would be less dangerous than losing time for Dr. Corey to come to California after he reaches New York,” both doctors declared.