“What’s the matter, Jan?” he questioned.  “I never saw you so fussed up!  And you’re dripping wet, too!”

Jan danced around, barking, then dashed to the gate but there he stopped and looked back, wagging his tail.

“Do you want me to go with you?” asked the old man, rising slowly.

The dog leaped against the gate, shoving it open, then ran ahead, only to return and bark again.

“All right,” the poundmaster picked up his cap, and when he followed, Jan’s delight could not have been misunderstood by any one.

“Woof!  Woof!” he kept shouting back, and in dog-talk that meant, “Hurry!  Hurry!”

And Captain Smith did hurry as fast as he could, but Jan reached the driftwood long before the old man.  The kitten was in the same place, just as he had left it.

“Why, it’s a kitten!” cried Jan’s master, as he, too, reached the spot.  “Poor little thing!”

He stooped down and picked up the tiny, limp body.  “I think it’s dead, Jan, but you did your best to save it.  Didn’t you?”

The dog watched intently, his tail waved slowly and his nose touched the hand that was gently rubbing the wet fur.  Then, without any warning, the kitten’s eyes opened and blinked and it uttered a faint mew.

“Well!  I declare, it’s alive after all!” the captain exclaimed.  “It must have been washed ashore from some wrecked boat, judging from that driftwood raft.  Looks most starved to death, Jan.  If there’s any truth that cats have nine lives, this little thing must have used up a good many of its lives getting to land.  Come along, Jan!  We’ll try to save what’s left, anyway.”

The dog scampered toward the bungalow, running back at times to leap about the old man.  Jan was so happy that he had saved the poor little thing.  It was only a little, grey kitten, and at the Hospice, of course, the dogs saved people; but that was in a place where there was snow.

When they all reached the kitchen, Jan crowded against the captain, who rubbed the shivering little cat with an old towel.  Then it was placed on the floor with a saucer of milk.  As the milk disappeared, the dog in his delight, moved closer, but the frightened animal humped up its back, fuzzed its thin tail and spit at him.

Of course, it did not know that Jan had saved its life, or that he did not want to hurt it, now.  He moved away and sat down quietly to watch it.  The saucer was filled with milk a second time, and the kitten’s tongue lapped as fast as it could go.  Its sides bulged out from its scrawny body when it had emptied the saucer and moved across the room.

“You poor little thing!” cried the old man, picking it up gently.  “It’s only got three legs, Jan!”

The poundmaster fixed his glasses and examined a hind leg which had no foot.  “I guess it was born that way,” he spoke.  “Must have been taken on some boat as a mascot.  Well, it doesn’t matter what has happened to it, just so it’s comfortable now, Jan!”