Part 11 (1/2)

Monday morning people came for the dogs, and the captain patted each of his four-footed friends, before it went to its new home. A man from a ranch brought an automobile, and into this the five dogs which had not yet found permanent homes were lifted. Then the captain took out his worn pocketbook and counted money, which he handed to the rancher.

”Take good care of them for me,” said the old man, ”and I'll pay for their food until we find homes for them all.”

”All right, Smith,” the man answered, and then he drove away with the yelping dogs.

It was very quiet in the house and back yard, but Hippity-Hop was glad of it. She had not enjoyed herself while there were so many dogs in the back of the house. After lunch was over, the captain dressed himself in his best clothes, put on his hat, and with Jan at his side, went to many big buildings where he talked earnestly with several men.

They were very kind to him, patted Jan, and promised they would let the captain know if they saw any work he could do. Jan saw that his old friend seemed tired after they had been to several places, and when the dog thrust his nose into the captain's hand, the faded eyes would smile bravely, as the captain said, ”It's bound to work out right in the end, Jan.”

Day after day, they made these trips, and at night Jan lay watching the face of his master, but the smile was not seen very often now. One evening the old man was more despondent than ever, so even Jan's wistful sympathy failed to rouse him, though the hand caressed the dog. Jan's heart ached, and unable to stand it longer, he pushed his head on the captain's knee and gave a low whimper.

Captain Smith leaned down and lifted the dog's head between his hands and looking into his puzzled eyes, he said slowly, ”We're up against it, Jan. My money is gone, and there does not seem to be any work for me to do. Every one is very kind, and all promise to send for me, but it is just because they are sorry. If I were younger, it would be easy to find plenty to do.”

Jan licked the gnarled hand and tried to show that he wished he could help, but the only thing he could do was to show the love and sympathy that filled his loyal heart. That night when the light was out and everything was quiet, Jan lay wide awake trying to puzzle out what it all meant, and then he heard a faint sigh and knew that the captain, on his cot, was awake, too. So the dog rose softly and moved to the side of the narrow bed, where he stretched himself on the floor. Presently he felt a hand touch his head and he turned quickly to caress it with his tongue. Then he heard the old man say, ”It's bound to work out right some way, Jan!”

The next morning the captain was more cheerful, and when the postman came along the street, the old man called out, ”It's a beautiful day, isn't it?”

The postman nodded, then said, ”I have a registered letter for you, Captain.”

With surprised eyes and quick steps, the old man reached the gate and signed the card. He turned the letter over, stared at it, then smiled and cried out, ”It's from my daughter!”

A happy smile illumined his face and his fingers were unsteady as he tore open the envelope, saying, ”She and her husband went to Alaska two years ago. I haven't heard anything from them for six months. You see, when winter begins up there, the river freezes solid, so no boats or mail can reach them.”

”Well, the postmen up there have an easy time once in a while,” replied the letter-carrier as he slung the heavy pouch over his shoulder and went on his way.

The old man sat on the step of the porch and read the letter, which was a long one. Jan knew his master was glad over something, and yet, when the letter was finished, there were tears rolling down the captain's cheeks. Jan edged tightly against him.

”They're all well,” said the old man, ”and they want us to come and live with them. Look, Jan!” He held out a piece of paper which the dog sniffed at. ”That is to pay our way, and we're going to start just as soon as we can pack up. You see, it worked out right in the end!”

Busy hours followed for them all. The captain hurried about the little house, packing things into boxes, and taking down pictures, which he put into a trunk. One picture he held for some minutes, ”That was Jenny when she was a little girl, just able to walk, Jan.” Then he wrapped it very carefully in a faded blue knitted scarf and placed it in the trunk with the other things. Hippity-Hop scurried about the room, and Cheepsie had a hard time clinging to the old man's shoulder, for he moved so swiftly and kept leaning over the trunk.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the trunk was shut and locked and an old carpet-bag stood beside it. The captain's hat was on his head, Cheepsie chirped in his cage that was wrapped tightly with paper, and Hippity-Hop mewed forlornly from a basket, while Jan moved nervously between the bundles and his master, wondering what it all meant. Then a man drove to the door and carried the trunk and valise to his wagon, leaving the captain to pick up the bird-cage and the hamper that held the kitten.

”Come along, Jan,” he called cheerfully, and the dog rushed ahead, turning back to frisk in circles or leap up in front of his friends. Jan was much happier than Hippity-Hop, who was yowling loudly as she stuck one paw through a hole in the basket, and Cheepsie's twitters sounded really cross.

Jan, once again, was put in a baggage car and after a ride of several hours, the captain got him out and led him to a wharf. Jan remembered his trip in the boat when he came to the Land of No Snow. He hesitated to go up the plank walk, but the captain smiled and said, ”It's all right, Jan. Come along!” and then the dog trotted fearlessly along the boards that led to the deck of the big boat. Everything was confusion, but Jan did not worry when his master led him down into the lower part of the boat, under the deck. After tying Jan, the old man gave him a final pat and said, ”I'll be back soon, Jan”; and the dog, knowing everything was all right, stretched on his side and closed his eyes. He was tired from the trip, the excitement of packing, and from those days of worry before the letter came that made the captain happy again. So he was very glad to have nothing to do, nothing to think about.

Then the boat trembled and puffed, and Prince Jan knew that he and Hippity-Hop and Cheepsie and their loved master were going somewhere together, and he was satisfied.

Chapter XIII

THE VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS

Prince Jan could not tell how many days and nights pa.s.sed while the boat throbbed on its way. He grew accustomed to the motion and as the captain came often each day to see him and talk to him, and many other people also visited him, Jan found life very pleasant.

Among his visitors was a pretty young woman with big brown eyes and a gentle voice. Nearly always a little child was in her arms, or held by the hand, for it was just beginning to walk. Captain Smith and these two seemed to be great friends. Many times he carried the baby in his arms and it laughed up in his face when he held it down to pat Jan's head.

The dog watched for them every day, and he was never disappointed. Once, the captain brought Hippity-Hop to see Jan, and the kitten purred loudly and rubbed against the dog's legs, while Jan poked her gently with his nose. The old man chuckled, ”You haven't forgotten each other, have you?” Then he picked up the kitten and carried it away.

That night, without warning, everything seemed to change, somehow. The boat leaped and jumped as though it were frightened at the big waves that washed against and over it. The night was dark, and down in the hold of the vessel it was still darker. Jan listened to men running overhead, voices called loudly and then came a sudden crash. The boat quivered as though it were hurt.