his tail was almost bare of the long hair that had once made it a
beautiful plume.

His only refuge was the orange grove, where he spent the days sleeping
or licking the bones he stole from garbage pails, for no one ever
thought to put food or water where he could find it. The servants feared
and hated him, and he hated them but did not fear them. He knew his own
strength. If any one threatened to abuse him, Jan was ready to leap and
use his sharp teeth, but so long as people let him alone, he would not
fight.

Late one afternoon, he saw William and a kindly-looking old man with a
long, white beard, talking together. They were watching Jan, as the dog
lay quietly in the hole that was now his only home; his eyes rolled but
he did not lift his head as they came closer.

"He has no use for me," said William, giving a rope to the other man.
"Maybe you can handle him alone, but I don't believe it. He's as big and
strong as a lion."

William pulled a paper from his pocket and held it to the older man,
saying, "Here's a letter from Miss Elizabeth Pixley; you can see what
she says. I wrote her about Jan and asked what we should do with him."

The name of Elizabeth caused Jan's ears to prick up and the fierce light
in his eyes faded. The strange man came close to the dog and spoke
gently. Jan wagged his tail slightly, but kept his eyes on the old man's
face.

"You had better look out," warned William. "He can't be trusted a