have Jan's hair clipped. Maybe she told the servants to have it cut.
Now, the long fur heated and worried the dog constantly and the fleas
nearly drove him mad. Day and night, he bit and scratched, tearing out
tufts of matted hair until raw, bleeding spots made his body a mass of
sores. Each day he grew more savage. He hated every one now; the monks
who had sold him, Mr. Pixley who had taken him from the Hospice, Miss
Elizabeth who had deserted him, and the servants who abused him.

"I wish I could tell the dogs at the Hospice not to help people who are
lost," he thought as he lay in the dark. "If William were lost in the
snow and I found him, I would fasten my teeth in his throat."

So, the gentle Prince Jan, whose heart had been full of love and trust,
and who wanted to help every one, became a savage beast, ready to fight
all people and hating even those whom he once had loved and for whom he
would have died gladly.




Chapter VI

THE POUND


Six months went by and the Pixleys had not returned, but Jan did not
know that Mr. Pixley was still very ill. The dog hid or skulked if he
met any person, and his deep growls and twitching nose were so
threatening that no one dared to go nearer. His silky hair was rough and
ragged, raw bleeding spots scarred his body, his eyes were bloodshot and