Then he heard laughter and voices saying, "Jan is dreaming again! Wake
up, Jan!"

He woke to see waving palms, green grass, flowers, and the warm sunshine
of a land where there is never any snow. His heart, which had been
throbbing madly with joy, grew sad. He looked at his little mistress and
her friends smiling at him so kindly, and wished he could tell them his
dream and beg them to send him back where he could be useful and do the
work of his father and Barry.

But the talk of dogs is different from ours; even people who speak the
same language often misunderstand one another. Once in a great while
some person is wise enough and good enough to understand what dogs try
to say, but Prince Jan's little mistress, though she loved him dearly,
never knew what was in his heart.

The months slipped away until Jan was fully grown. His tawny-red and
white hair was as soft as silk, and when he put his paws on a man's
shoulders, their eyes were the same height. In spite of his strength and
size, he was gentle and kind. Every one loved him and he loved
everybody.

The only sadness in his life was in knowing that he could not help
people in a place where there was no snow. One night, as he came on the
porch, Jan thought it was snowing, and he raced to the spot where he had
seen the flakes falling in the bright moonlight; but when he pushed his
nose into the white glistening things beneath a tree, he found they were
only petals from the orange blossoms, the perfumed snowflakes of
California, and Jan lay down among them, the old longing for his home