"Hold on," called Jan, but the kitten did not seem to hear him. It lay perfectly still.
He tried to swim faster, fearing the waves might wash the little creature off, for at times the water covered the raft and Jan's head, too. He gained the shore and dragged the wreckage far back to safety. Jan sniffed at the kitten. Its eyes were shut and it did not move. He knew that most cats are afraid of dogs, so he went off a little way and sat down, waiting patiently for it to wake up.
After many minutes Jan went over and pushed it gently with his nose. It did not stir. Then he sat down and looked at it thoughtfully, remembering that when the dogs of the Hospice found a traveller in the snow whom they could not waken, they hurried for help. His mother and Bruno had told him that, and Jan had never forgotten those lessons, nor the days he and Rollo had been trained by Brother Antoine.
His tongue licked the wet fur, but the kitten's eyes stayed shut. Jan lifted his head, gave a loud bark and raced away through the sand, kicking it with his fast-flying feet so that it formed tiny, yellow clouds.
Into the little sitting-room he rushed, leaving a damp trail across the floor. The captain looked up in surprise and stopped lighting his pipe when the dog, dripping wet, stood in front of him and barked loudly.
"What's the matter, Jan?" he questioned. "I never saw you so fussed up! And you're dripping wet, too!"
Jan danced around, barking, then dashed to the gate but there he stopped and looked back, wagging his tail.
"Do you want me to go with you?" asked the old man, rising slowly.
The dog leaped against the gate, shoving it open, then ran ahead, only to return and bark again.
"All right," the poundmaster picked up his cap, and when he followed, Jan's delight could not have been misunderstood by any one.