The whole party of rescuers hastened to the Hospice under the trees, where supper was almost ready, and as they sat around the outdoor fireplace waiting the meal, they all declared that Bruin had acted just as if he had really lived at the Hospice and knew all about the dogs there and how they worked.

Three months after Jan went to live at Roseneath, the family sat reading one evening, and Jan sprawled at their feet.  Ruth and Charlotte were deeply interested in the pictures of a new magazine for children, and Mr. Melville held a newspaper.  He had been to the nearest town that day and had brought the mail home with him.

Suddenly he let the paper drop to his lap and sat looking at Prince Jan, then he picked up the paper again, saying, “Listen to this!”

All of them turned expectantly, for the parents always read aloud anything that might interest the children.

    Captured thief worries over lost dog

John Leavitt, alias Shorty, now held as one of the two men who stole and wrecked an automobile belonging to Paul E. Wallace of Los Angeles, has made a confession implicating his half-brother, William Leavitt, formerly stableman at the beach-home of the Pixleys.

According to Shorty’s statement, they had stolen a St. Bernard dog from Captain Smith, the Poundmaster, intending to sell the animal in Canada.  Shorty became attached to the dog, Prince Jan, and in a quarrel with his brother over the muzzling of the dog, the machine was wrecked.

Leavitt evidently supposed Shorty was dead beneath the wreckage, and escaped.  Shorty was found later, seriously injured, and his recovery was not expected.  His one anxiety seems to be that Prince Jan, being muzzled, might have died of starvation.  Any one knowing the fate of the dog is asked to communicate with Captain Smith, through this paper.

    Prince Jan is a pure St. Bernard, with long fur, but he had been
    clipped and his hair dyed black.

    No trace of William Leavitt has been found, but the authorities are
    looking for him.  He has a criminal record in the East and is now
    wanted there.  Shorty has been bound over for trial.

The family looked at the dog sleeping peacefully at their feet.

“Not the least doubt,” said Mr. Melville.

“Call him, Ruth.  Call his name—­Prince Jan—­and see how he acts.”

The child’s lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she went to her mother’s side.  “But, mother, if he is Prince Jan, will somebody take him away from us?”

Charlotte’s eyes, too, were blurred and her lower lip dropped.

“Suppose,” the mother spoke gently, and her arm went about the slender little figure leaning against her in half-choked grief, “Suppose, dear, some one found you when you were lost, and daddy and I didn’t know where you were, and the people couldn’t understand when you tried to tell them who you were and where we lived,” the voice grew very tender and grave, “and then the people found out where you belonged and that we were looking everywhere for you, and grieving because we did not know whether you were hungry and unhappy.  Do you think it would be right for them to keep you away from us, even if they did love you very, very dearly?”