He would never see his dear ones again. How foolish he had been! How miserable he was!

Attracted by his cries and tears, three beautiful setters, who had been stolen the day before, came out of the back of the kennel and grouped themselves around the newcomer. They did their best to comfort and console him.

After telling one another their sad stories, they talked over ways of escape. The very idea of getting away cheered them up a lot.

It was clear that they were all to be sold.

Next morning they were all tightly chained to one another and the man, whip in hand, led them to the dog-market.

This market was held in a large square, slightly shaded by big elm trees. Ragged old women, squatting on their heels, or crouching on old chairs or baskets, held little dogs on their knees, petting them, cleaning them, offering them for sale to anyone who stopped to look. Some people had dogs on leashes. Suspicious-looking men walked dogs to and fro.

In front there was a long line of hunting dogs of every kind and breed; farther on, a line of pet-dogs; then a group of poodles—newly shaved and beribboned. Here and there were cats, monkeys, parrots, birds of all kinds, and, lastly, guinea-pigs and white rats.

All these creatures barked, whined, mewed, chattered, screamed. The din was beyond description.

Clown, confused, a white poodle on either side of him, was silent. With hanging head he pretended that he had quite given up the thought of escape, but just the same, when no one was looking, he turned his eyes quickly from side to side, ready to seize the first chance to get away.

3

CLOWN ESCAPES

It was not long before Clown's absence was noticed in his old home. The whole household was alarmed. They searched the house from top to bottom, whistling, calling to him, weeping. The servants ran to and fro; nobody could understand how the dog had got away. Huddled in an arm-chair, Bertha sobbed, with hardly the heart or strength to move. In vain they searched all Paris. The police were informed, the pound visited, the description and photograph of Clown scattered broadcast. A large reward was offered to anyone finding him or giving information about him. In spite of all this, the day and night passed without news of the dog.

On the advice of the Chief of Police, Bertha went next morning to the dog-market, accompanied by Marie and the footman. No sooner was she there than Clown, without seeing her, even, sniffed her from afar. He pulled so hard on his chain that he nearly broke it. Alas, where he was, Bertha could not see him. The thief understood at once that something was the matter. He seized the unhappy dog before he knew what was happening, flung him into a box near at hand and banged down the lid.

'Twas thus that poor Clown, at the moment when his rescue seemed certain, learned to his cost that there are times in this life when it is wise to hide one's feelings.

Anyhow, his young mistress was looking for him everywhere. This was enough to make him feel much more cheerful.

That day Clown was sold. When he saw the money counted out, he understood and was at first quite delighted, but his joy did not last long. He soon discovered from the gestures of the two men that his new owner did not live in Paris and that he was leaving that very night, for his home far, far away in the south. Then Clown felt desperate. He shook with rage and fear lest he should be lost forever. He was so upset by his bad luck that he hardly heard the thief offer to take him to the station that evening in time for the train, and his new owner accept the offer.

He lost all hope on hearing that, for his last chance of escape would be gone the minute he was taken away from Paris.

On the way to the station Clown was held so tightly that he saw it would be no use to struggle. When he reached there at nightfall, he was shut up in the hated dog-kennel until the time came for the train to start.

When the noisy whistles blew, as they always do when the great expresses are about to draw out, and the train started with that horrid grating sound they always make, Clown began to sob wildly and to howl in a most dismal fashion. To make it all the worse he saw through the iron bars of his cage the shadows of the last houses of his native city. For a moment he thought he should go mad. Little by little the cool evening air revived him, calmed his fever. Snuggling down in a corner of his box, he determined to wait for the chance of escape which must come some time or other. He would cross the whole of France, if necessary, to find his beloved mistress. Death alone could deprive him of his one great hope.

At last, after passing through Burgundy, the express stopped. It was morning and already quite light. Clown saw his new master approach his prison and open the padlock so that he could come out and stretch his legs on the platform. The prisoner did not hesitate. No sooner was he free than he was off like a shot, tearing along the platform, then back along the railway track, taking no notice of the calls of his