“If only Elizabeth will come back soon,” he thought, “everything will be right again, and the servants won’t be cross to me any more.”

The excitement of abuse for the first time in his life and the pain from the wounded eye, which was swollen shut, made him feverish, but he kept hidden all day, suffering from thirst rather than risk further ill-treatment, and all the time he was listening for the sound of wheels and the voice of Elizabeth calling him.

The sun went down, but the family had not come home.  Then it grew very quiet and dark, and Jan crawled to the back of the house for food and water, which were always put there at sunset for him.  He crept like a thief, ready to rush back to the orange grove if he heard a step approaching.

Both pans were in the accustomed place, but he found them empty.  His tongue was so dry and hot that he licked each pan in turn.  Then he went around to the front of the house and put his nose to a water faucet, licking it for a drop of moisture.  The pipe was dry.  Jan looked out at the ocean, over which the moon shone silvery bright, the water sparkled, but he knew he could not drink salt water, and even to look at it now made him more thirsty.  At last, unable to resist any longer, he went to the beach and lapped the stinging water that burnt his throat.  Then he plunged into the surf and swam out a short distance.  But the waves washed over his head and the salt in the wound made him cry with pain, until he reached the shore and dashed back to the orange grove, where he lay moaning pitifully.

His thirst grew worse.  Jan rose to his feet, hoping the stable door might be open, as sometimes he had seen it on warm nights, and there was a water trough that always had water in it, for Elizabeth still rode horseback, though the family used the automobiles.  The door was closed, so he went back to his hiding-place.

In the morning, almost crazed by thirst, Jan again sought the stable.  Drawing near, he heard water running, and, thinking of nothing else, he rushed to the trough where cool, sparkling water flowed from the faucet.  William was there, too, but the dog rose on his hind legs and thrust his dry tongue into the water, lapping it in big gulps.

“Get out of that!” he heard William order.

Jan kept on drinking greedily.  Then he felt a sharp slash from a carriage whip.  He did not lift his head.  Nothing could drive him from the water.  The whip struck hard and fast across his back, each cut making him shrink, but he kept on drinking until his terrible thirst had been quenched.  Then he dropped his paws from the edge of the trough to the floor and turned his great head, one eye closed, the other bloodshot and glaring hate and defiance, while his teeth gleamed and an ugly snarl rumbled in his throat.

A young fellow who was a stranger to Jan came from the back of the building.  The dog looked at him, then at William, ready to fight them both.  As Jan started toward them, William moved back.  Jan growled.