"Do you think he's gone mad, Shorty?" asked William uneasily.

Jan did not know what the words meant, but he saw that the man was
afraid of him for some reason. He gave a fierce snarl and faced them.

"Wouldn't drink water if he was mad," replied Shorty. "Why didn't you
let him alone, anyhow? He wasn't bothering you till you hit him."

"I hate dogs, and you know it," retorted William angrily. "It made me
sick to see the Pixleys such fools over this one. We all had to stand
around and wait on that dog as if he was the King of England. I guess he
finds out the difference now that the family has gone."

Shorty moved slowly toward Jan, holding out a hand and saying, "You're
all right, old fellow!"

But the dog backed off and his nose twitched warningly. He would fight
if these men bothered him. With a final growl of defiance Jan left the
stable, but he carried with him a new sense of power. He could make
people let him alone if he snarled and showed his teeth.

That night he prowled around until he found the garbage cans. So he
learned to hide in the daytime and forage like a wild animal at night.
If he passed one of the servants, he growled and braced himself stiffly,
while his hair rose in a ridge along his back. One glance at his
bloodshot eyes and big, white teeth was enough to make every one, man,
woman or child, hurry out of his way.

In the excitement of packing for the trip, Elizabeth had neglected to