But the man only heard a little whimper, and gave the dog a quick pat. "You and Elizabeth will be great friends. Lie down now and be quiet!"
Jan dropped to the floor of the carriage, his head between his paws, and his eyes that stared at the strange new master were full of wistful pleading.
After that ride came days in a big, dark place that bumped and jerked with horrible noises. He did not know that he was on a train. Jan had lived all his life where the only disturbing sounds were the soft thud of melting snow and the hissing of the avalanches down the mountain sides. These strange noises hurt his ears. The pain in his heart kept growing until he could only lie still and draw his breath in smothered little whimpers that tore the inside of his throat. He could not eat nor drink.
When Mr. Pixley took him from the train, the dog was led through crowds of people and bustling, noisy streets that made Jan cringe and cower. At last they reached a place where water stretched so far that it touched the sky, and the water kept moving all the time. This frightened him, for he had never seen any water excepting in the little lake at the Hospice, and that water did not move, for it was nearly always frozen over. Bewildered, Jan hung back, but the man to whom Mr. Pixley had handed the rope dragged the dog up a walk of boards to a strange-looking house on top of the water. Jan stumbled down the dark stairs, into a hot, smelly place where he was fastened to a wall. An old sack was thrown down, water and meat placed before him, then he was left alone. Whistles screamed, bells jangled, all sorts of noises pounded Jan's shrinking, sensitive ears as he cowered in an agony of fear. The boat moved; but he thought, as it puffed and trembled, that a huge, strange animal had swallowed him alive.
The rolling motion made him very sick. He could neither eat nor sleep, but grew stiff and sore during the days and nights he was kept tied in the hold of the vessel. Homesick and lonesome, poor little Prince Jan lay for hours crying softly, but the only attention any one gave him was to fill pans with water and food.
One day two women, wearing white caps on their heads, climbed down the stairs with a little girl and boy. The children ran and put their arms about the dog's neck and Jan wriggled and squirmed with happiness, while he licked their hands and faces.
"Don't touch him," cried one of the women, pulling the girl away. "He is filthy, beside, he might bite you."
The child drew back in alarm. Jan's gentle eyes watched them and his tail waved slowly, trying to make them know that he loved them and would not hurt them or anybody in the world.
"He won't hurt us, Nurse," the boy declared and put his hand on the dog's big head. "I don't care whether he's dirty or clean, he's a bully fine dog, and I wish he belonged to me and sister!"
"Oh, if they will only stay with me!" hoped Jan. "Maybe they would understand and some day take me back to the Hospice."