washed over his head and the salt in the wound made him cry with pain,
until he reached the shore and dashed back to the orange grove, where he
lay moaning pitifully.

His thirst grew worse. Jan rose to his feet, hoping the stable door
might be open, as sometimes he had seen it on warm nights, and there was
a water trough that always had water in it, for Elizabeth still rode
horseback, though the family used the automobiles. The door was closed,
so he went back to his hiding-place.

In the morning, almost crazed by thirst, Jan again sought the stable.
Drawing near, he heard water running, and, thinking of nothing else, he
rushed to the trough where cool, sparkling water flowed from the faucet.
William was there, too, but the dog rose on his hind legs and thrust his
dry tongue into the water, lapping it in big gulps.

"Get out of that!" he heard William order.

Jan kept on drinking greedily. Then he felt a sharp slash from a
carriage whip. He did not lift his head. Nothing could drive him from
the water. The whip struck hard and fast across his back, each cut
making him shrink, but he kept on drinking until his terrible thirst had
been quenched. Then he dropped his paws from the edge of the trough to
the floor and turned his great head, one eye closed, the other bloodshot
and glaring hate and defiance, while his teeth gleamed and an ugly snarl
rumbled in his throat.

A young fellow who was a stranger to Jan came from the back of the
building. The dog looked at him, then at William, ready to fight them
both. As Jan started toward them, William moved back. Jan growled.