The old poundmaster and Jan walked on the beach nearly every day, and if the dog saw a bit of driftwood near the shore, he would swim out and get it.  His master then put the wood in a basket so it could be taken home to burn in the fireplace on cool nights.  Often when Jan was alone on the beach and spied floating wood, he dashed through the surf for it, and, if it were not too heavy, dragged it to the bungalow.  Whenever he did this, he was petted and praised by the old man.  Then Jan felt very proud because he was helping his master.

One day as he wandered alone on the shore he saw a lot of wood floating on the waves.  Though it was quite a distance he did not hesitate to plunge after it.  The salt water splashed over his head; sometimes he was completely under big waves, and once a high curling breaker caught and turned him over and over, while his legs stuck up from the peak of the wave, but Jan thought it all great sport.  He shook his big head so that his long ears flapped, and his strong paws sent him into deeper water where the waves rolled in long lines but did not curl up and break so roughly as nearer the shore.

The boards were fastened together, and Jan saw this was a much harder task than he had ever attempted before.  He grabbed the edge of a plank in his powerful jaws and twisting sharply, struck back, for land.  Several times the force of the water and the weight of the little raft made him let go, but each time he caught the driftwood and fought his way toward the beach.  Land was still quite distant when he heard a faint noise, and then he saw that a tiny grey kitten was clinging to the boards.

“Hold on,” called Jan, but the kitten did not seem to hear him.  It lay perfectly still.

He tried to swim faster, fearing the waves might wash the little creature off, for at times the water covered the raft and Jan’s head, too.  He gained the shore and dragged the wreckage far back to safety.  Jan sniffed at the kitten.  Its eyes were shut and it did not move.  He knew that most cats are afraid of dogs, so he went off a little way and sat down, waiting patiently for it to wake up.

After many minutes Jan went over and pushed it gently with his nose.  It did not stir.  Then he sat down and looked at it thoughtfully, remembering that when the dogs of the Hospice found a traveller in the snow whom they could not waken, they hurried for help.  His mother and Bruno had told him that, and Jan had never forgotten those lessons, nor the days he and Rollo had been trained by Brother Antoine.

His tongue licked the wet fur, but the kitten’s eyes stayed shut.  Jan lifted his head, gave a loud bark and raced away through the sand, kicking it with his fast-flying feet so that it formed tiny, yellow clouds.

Into the little sitting-room he rushed, leaving a damp trail across the floor.  The captain looked up in surprise and stopped lighting his pipe when the dog, dripping wet, stood in front of him and barked loudly.