“It’s a fine old world, Jan!” the poundmaster would say, as he put the violin away in its box.

Then Hippity-Hop and Jan knew it was time for bed, and Cheepsie hurried to his cage and tucked his little head under his yellow wing.

Chapter VIII

THE MUZZLE

Jan’s curiosity about the dogs that disappeared was satisfied when a lady in a handsome gown was driven to the bungalow one evening.

Captain Smith met her with a happy smile, then he brought in an Airedale dog that had been with the other dogs for many weeks.  The lady patted the dog, spoke to it gently, then she rose from her chair and the captain followed her to the gate where an automobile was waiting.  The Airedale was lifted into the seat beside her.

“He will have the kindest care,” she leaned forward to say, “and I hope you will be able to find homes for all the other dogs, too.  I will tell my friends about them.  Captain Smith, does the city pay for their feed while you find homes for them all?”

Jan saw his master slowly shake his head, “It does not take much to feed them,” he answered.  “I am allowed to feed them a week, but I manage the rest of it from my salary.  It makes me happy to see their gratitude, for most of them have been cuffed about so they don’t know that there are people who will be kind and love them.”

After the visitor left, Jan lay quietly watching the old man moving about the room.  Now, he understood everything, and the dog rose quickly and thrust his nose into the wrinkled hand.  The smile on the old man’s face went deep into Jan’s heart as the poundmaster, lifting the dog’s head, looked into Jan’s eyes, saying, “It’s a pretty hard thing when any human being is without a friend, Jan; but people can speak up for themselves.  A dog can’t do that, and yet, he is the best friend any man can have.”

So Jan always felt happy after that day, for when he missed one of the dogs now, he knew it had found a home and some one to love it.  And on those days the poundmaster went around with shining eyes while his lips puckered up in a cheerful whistle, or Jan heard him singing:’ 

    “Old dog Tray is ever faithful,
      Grief cannot drive him away;
    He’s gentle and he’s kind
    And you’ll never, never find
      A better friend than old dog Tray.”

Many times when friends called to talk and smoke with the Captain, Jan would go for a short walk along the beach.  One evening the ocean looked so inviting that the dog could not resist swimming far out, barking and snapping at floating kelp.  It was much later than usual when he reached the shore and shook his long fur until it showered the salt water like a rain storm, then with a loud “Woof!” of happiness, he ran toward his home.

The high cliffs that rose above the beach threw dark shadows on the sand.  The little bungalow where the captain lived was at the top of this cliff overlooking the ocean.  The pound was not far away, and there were several other bungalows a little distance apart from each other, and a flight of wooden steps edged a twisting footpath which led directly up to the front gate of Jan’s home.