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 his mistress’s pony in the days gone by.  And as he trudged slowly, he kept wondering if she had sent for him.  He remembered how Mr. Pixley had led him away from the Hospice at the end of a rope, but at the end of the journey Jan had found Elizabeth and happiness.  He lifted his big head and his anxious eyes saw a pitying face as a gentle hand lightly touched his back.  It was quite a long walk and the dog was weak from improper food and care.  When they entered a little cottage, the old man brought food and water, then sat and watched the dog devour them ravenously.  After the dish had been emptied of all food, Jan stood wagging his tail to show his gratitude.  The old man laughed.

“Why, you’re not any more vicious than I am, Prince Jan!  But, you’re in pretty bad shape.”

He did not tie the rope, but let it drop on the floor while he brought a small tin tub full of warm suds, and gently sponged the dog’s body.  The next thing was cool salve on the painful sores.