Prince Jan, St. Bernard

by Forrestine C. Hooker

"I find homes for them all," the old man hastened to say, "and it only takes a short time to find people who will give them good homes. Not one of the dogs that has been brought here since I had charge has been vicious. Those that seemed dangerous at first grew gentle and kind as soon as they found no one would hurt them."

"Of course, we know how you feel about them, but the City hires you to kill the dogs if their owners do not claim or want them. People complain that you keep the dogs and feed them at the public expense. We can't have that, you know."

Captain Smith rose, and the hand he held out suddenly toward the two men was trembling. "I don't know who told you that," he said earnestly, "and I don't believe that whoever did say it meant to tell an untruth, but the only dogs that are fed at public cost are those for which I am allowed money. After any dog has been with me for more than a week, I pay for his food myself."

The two strange men looked at each other and were silent a few minutes. Finally one of them spoke again,

"I'm sorry, Smith, but you will have to get rid of the dogs. The pound is not a boarding place for stray dogs, and the fact that you pay for their feed after a certain time does not change matters."

The old man sat down in his chair as though he were very tired, and stared at the floor until he felt Jan's nose, and then he looked into the dog's sympathetic eyes. The wrinkled hand twitched, but the old man's kindly face turned to the other man.

"I know you can't change the law," he said slowly, "but if you could let me have a little more time, I can find homes for all the dogs that are here now. There are only ten, beside Prince Jan, and he belongs to me. See"—he pushed aside the thick hair on the dog's neck—"I bought a collar and a license for him, and he has never eaten a mouthful of food except what I have paid for myself."

"Too many people have complained," was the reply. "The dogs are noisy, and no one is allowed to have so many dogs inside the city limits. You know it is against the law, Smith. That settles it."

Both men rose to their feet and looked at the old man, but at the door they stopped and talked together in low voices. Then one of them turned and said, "We don't want to be too hard on you, for we know you love dogs, so we will give you two days to find places for them. After that, the dogs that are still here must be killed, or you will have to resign your position as poundmaster."

Smith watched them go down the pathway to the front gate, then with low drooping head and slow steps he went back to the little room. Jan pressed closely against him as the old man sank into his chair. Cheepsie flew from his cage and perched on the captain's shoulder, singing loudly, and Hippity-Hop, not to be left from the little family group, limped across the room and rubbed, purring, against the old poundmaster's leg. They knew that he was troubled, and all of them tried to make him understand they were sorry for him and loved him.