JAN LEARNS TO HATE
Four happy years passed by. Elizabeth had grown into a beautiful young
lady, but she loved Jan as much as ever, and he was always at her side.
Then one morning when Jan, as usual, went to the front porch to tell Mr.
Pixley that breakfast was ready, there was no one sitting in the rocker
where Jan expected to find his master reading the paper, and no kindly
voice called, "All right, Jan! Tell them I'm coming!"
Slowly the dog went back to the big dining-room. But Elizabeth and her
mother were not in their accustomed places, either. Puzzled, he trotted
through the hallway and up the wide stairs, following the sound of
murmuring voices in Mr. Pixley's room. Through the half-open door Jan
saw two strange men talking to Elizabeth and her mother. On the bed,
very white and quiet, Mr. Pixley was lying.
"The only chance is an operation by Dr. Corey of London," one of the
men spoke to Mrs. Pixley, and the other man nodded.
"We can cable to London and have him sail immediately for New York,
while we are on our way from here," added the second man to Elizabeth,
who was watching them very anxiously.
"Do you think my father can stand the trip?" she asked.
"It would be less dangerous than losing time for Dr. Corey to come to
California after he reaches New York," both doctors declared.
Jan saw that Elizabeth's eyes were full of tears and he slipped softly
to her and pushed his nose into her hand. She glanced down and tried to
smile at him, but her lips trembled and she hurried to her room. Mrs.
Pixley followed her, and when Jan found them, Elizabeth was crying in
her mother's arms, while Mrs. Pixley, whose own face was wet with tears,
tried to comfort her. After awhile they began talking in low tones, and
Jan edged between their closely-drawn chairs, wishing very hard that he
could understand what it all meant. He would have been as much worried
as they were, had he known that Mr. Pixley's life could only be saved by
the famous surgeon from England, and that even if the operation were
successful it would mean that Elizabeth and her parents would have to be
away from home many months. But Jan was only a dog, so their words meant
nothing to him.
After that hour everything was in confusion. Servants hurried about,
trunks were dragged into Elizabeth's room, and clothes were carried from
closets and packed into the empty trunks. Every once in a while Jan
would look down into a trunk, then watch Elizabeth with his puzzled
eyes.
She saw his worried look and paused in her packing to pet him, then
suddenly she turned to her mother and said, "Oh, mother! What about
Jan?"
"It will be impossible to take him with us, for we will have to stay in
a hotel, and that would be hard on Jan, and an additional care for us,
dear. Then, we may have to go to London as soon as your father is able
to travel after the operation. Dr. Corey could not stay in New York so
long."
"I suppose the servants will be kind to Jan," went on Jan's mistress,
"but I would feel better if old John and Mary were still here. They
loved Jan and he loved them."
"These new servants seem to be all right," replied Mrs. Pixley. "They
know how fond we are of Jan, and I will ask them to be kind to him."
"He's such a dear old fellow, and never makes any trouble, and I don't
believe any one could help loving him!" exclaimed Elizabeth, catching
the dog's long, silky ears and pulling them gently while his eyes,
shining with devotion, looked into her own.
Before noon the next day the trunks had been strapped and taken away.
Then Jan saw Mr. Pixley lifted into the automobile where Mrs. Pixley was
arranging pillows. Elizabeth came slowly down the steps of the porch
with Jan at her side. Then she stooped and took his head between her
hands and gazed intently at him.
"Good-bye, Jan! I'll come back again!"
That was what she always said when she was going away for a short time;
so Jan wagged his tail and touched her pink cheek with the tip of his
tongue. He watched the automobile turn among the orange trees that
bordered the winding driveway and waited for a last glimpse of it
through the trees. He knew that Elizabeth would turn and call to him
when she reached that point.
His ears cocked up and his eyes were bright as the machine came into
sight. Then he saw his dear mistress look back at him, her hand waved
and her voice called, "Good-bye, Prince Jan! Be a good dog!"
"Woof! Woof!" he answered, as he always answered her "good-bye" call.
Then the automobile vanished among the trees.
It was summer time and the middle of the day was very warm, so Jan
decided he would take a swim in the ocean. It was great sport battling
the huge waves while white sea-gulls darted screaming over his head,
fearing he would steal the fish they hoped to catch and eat. Cooled by
the water, he returned to the front porch and stretched out where he
could see the road, for he always ran and welcomed his folks when they
came home from their drives. He was very happy and comfortable until the
new housekeeper came out with a broom.
"Get off, you dirty beast!" she cried, shaking the broom over his head.
"This porch was washed to-day."
Jan jumped up in surprise. No one had ever spoken to him that way. The
old housekeeper, who had gone away, had been his friend. Whenever the
family was absent at night Jan had kept her company in her room, and she
always had cookies there for him. John, her husband, had been the old
stableman.
The broom waved nearer. He looked into the woman's angry face, then
walked down the front steps.
"I'll go to the stable till Elizabeth comes home," he thought as he went
toward the back of the house.
But, John, the stableman, who had cared for the handsome horses of the
Pixleys until automobiles filled the carriage house, had gone away to
another place where people still used horses. John had been Jan's loyal
friend. The new man, William Leavitt, had not made friends with Jan, but
there were many nice dark places, out of William's sight, where Jan
often took a nap during the heat of the day, and William never knew it.
Jan was making for a favorite spot under the old family carriage, when
William saw him.
"Get out!" he shouted furiously.
The dog stopped. William came closer and lifting his hand, threw a
monkey-wrench at Jan. It missed him, and the dog hurried away to the
garden, where many trees made dense shadows. There was a spot under a
low-hanging pepper tree where Jan dug into the cool, moist earth until
he had made a nice, big hole. Then he lay down and uttered a sigh of
content. His eyes closed and soon he was sound asleep.
A vicious kick wakened him, and he leaped to his feet to see the
gardener standing over him swearing. Jan ran away, but stood a short
distance off, watching the man fill up the hole under the tree. As the
man finished the work, he saw the dog and hurled a stone which struck
above Jan's eye, making a jagged cut that started to bleed.
Half-mad with pain, Jan ran until he found a place in the orange grove,
far back from the house, and trembling, he huddled down. His heart
thumped and again he suffered from the fear of things he did not
understand just as he had felt when his mother howled on the day he had
been led from the Hospice.
"If only Elizabeth will come back soon," he thought, "everything will
be right again, and the servants won't be cross to me any more."
The excitement of abuse for the first time in his life and the pain from
the wounded eye, which was swollen shut, made him feverish, but he kept
hidden all day, suffering from thirst rather than risk further
ill-treatment, and all the time he was listening for the sound of wheels
and the voice of Elizabeth calling him.
The sun went down, but the family had not come home. Then it grew very
quiet and dark, and Jan crawled to the back of the house for food and
water, which were always put there at sunset for him. He crept like a
thief, ready to rush back to the orange grove if he heard a step
approaching.
Both pans were in the accustomed place, but he found them empty. His
tongue was so dry and hot that he licked each pan in turn. Then he went
around to the front of the house and put his nose to a water faucet,
licking it for a drop of moisture. The pipe was dry. Jan looked out at
the ocean, over which the moon shone silvery bright, the water sparkled,
but he knew he could not drink salt water, and even to look at it now
made him more thirsty. At last, unable to resist any longer, he went to
the beach and lapped the stinging water that burnt his throat. Then he
plunged into the surf and swam out a short distance. But the waves
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.
"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
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.