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Updated: May 2, 2025
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.
The two men looked around the room, stared at the dog, then turned to Jan's master. The look on the poundmaster's face made the dog feel certain that these men had something to do with the old man's worry, so Jan went over and sat close to him, resting his big head on the captain's knee. "Is that the dog that was stolen?" one of the visitors asked at last. "Yes," replied the captain.
In the Big Room the monks received the old captain, whom they had not forgotten, and after the first greetings were over, they listened to the story of the poundmaster's homesickness for Jan. The lady, who was the captain's daughter, explained that the mines in far-away Alaska had been sold for enough money to build a home in Southern California, where the captain lived with them.
Woof!" the answer woke the echoes sleeping in the hearts of the mountains, the dogs of the Hospice took up the call of their kin, and the big dog dashed swiftly along the trail until he reached the little group. Leaping up, he licked the poundmaster's hand. Then with head erect, Prince Jan, for the last time, travelled the trail of his ancestors.
But the one thing for which his loyal heart yearned most was the touch of a wrinkled hand on his head and the sound of the old poundmaster's voice. No one knew Jan's thoughts, for he was always eager to do his work the best he knew how, and to teach the puppies to be proud of the privilege of helping people.
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