Prince Jan, St. Bernard Part 14

PRINCE JAN DECIDES

Jan slept soundly that night, and when he woke just before the first peep of day, and saw the other dogs stretched around him, he remembered that he was back home once more with his mother, Rollo, Bruno, and the rest of the Hospice dogs, and that now he would have a chance to do the work of his forefathers.

The soft, deep tones of the Hospice bell called them all to waken for a new day and its work. The voices of the monks singing in the chapel ceased, and at once all the dogs turned expectant eyes toward the corridor, where Brother Antoine appeared with food for their breakfast.

They leaped around the monk, or mauled each other in play, while the hot food was poured into a small trough, and soon Prince Jan was eating his share with the rest of them. They all made way for him, and there was no crowding, growling, or fighting over their morning meal.

When it was over the door leading into the yard was opened and the dogs tumbled out, barking, jumping, knocking each other over, or scampering full tilt in merry play. Rollo and his brother forgot they were grown-up and frisked together as they had done in the days before Prince Jan had been taken to the Land of No Snow.

Once more Brother Antoine stood on the steps watching them, and at last he called Jan, who trotted obediently to him, and followed through the arched corridors and the long hallway until they reached the three doors that opened, one after the other, to the outside steps.

Jan saw the doctor and the captain already there. The old man was mounted on the mule, Ketty, while Pierrot, the driver, waited beside it.

The doctor held a long, stout stick.

With a bark of welcome, the dog hurried to them and stood up on his hind legs so he could lick the hand of the captain and feel its gentle touch on his head.

Brother Antoine paused at the top step and watched, but he did not speak as Pierrot called aloud and the mule started briskly down the trail leading to Martigny. The doctor walked beside the mule, and then Jan understood that they were leaving the Hospice.

He stopped and gazed back wistfully. The monk on the step gave no sign, uttered no word to call him back. Sadly Jan turned and moved along the trail behind the mule. The doctor and the captain, and even Pierrot, looked at the dog, but none of them spoke to him.

For some little distance Jan trudged heavily, then he stopped suddenly and twisted for a last look at his home. He saw the high-peaked roof and the snow-clad mountains looming above it, then he turned again to follow the travellers. They were now some distance ahead of him and a jagged cliff hid them from his eyes. Jan did not move.

Through a gap he saw the captain, the doctor, and the guide. They halted this time. They were waiting there for him.

The dog started quickly toward them, but something made him look again where Brother Antoine stood on the steps. Jan hesitated, then he sat down facing the trail toward Martigny. In a few minutes he saw the little procession start on its way. He knew he could catch up with them easily if he ran fast, but still he sat without moving, his eyes fastened on that gap between the mountains.

He lifted his head and sent out the cry of his forefathers, so that the echoes rang again and again. The answering voices died away, there was no sound save the swish of melting snow that slipped down the steep places, and then Prince Jan, St. Bernard, turned and trotted up the trail to the home of his ancestors.

Brother Antoine waited on the top step. As the dog reached him, the monk stooped and patted him, whispering softly, "It is not easy, Prince Jan, when the paths that Love and Duty travel lie far apart."

And so Prince Jan came back to the work of his ancestors, and as the months pa.s.sed by he saved many lives and was very happy. The young dogs listened in respectful wonder when he told of the strange places and things that he had found in the Land of No Snow. They learned from him the lessons of obedience, loyalty, and kindliness.

"If you do the very best you know how, it will always work out right in the end," Jan ended each talk.

But sometimes at night as he slept among the other dogs, he saw the captain walking about a room. Cheepsie was perched on the old man's shoulder, while Hippity-Hop skipped beside them, and the dog-knew that they were thinking of him.

Then Jan's ears c.o.c.ked up, his tail swished gently on the stone floor of the Hospice, for in his dreams he heard the faint sound of a quavering voice singing:

"Old dog Tray is ever faithful, Grief cannot drive him away.

He's gentle and he's kind And you'll never, never find A better friend than old dog Tray."

Chapter XVII

JAN'S REWARD

Two years went past and Jan's work at the Hospice brought him great happiness, for he knew that he was doing the work of his ancestors and living a useful life.

Often as he travelled the snow trails, he remembered the Land of No Snow, the warm suns.h.i.+ne, the fragrant flowers and the beautiful trees laden with golden fruit. 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.

Brother Antoine had left the Hospice and gone down into the warmer climate of the Valley of the Rhone. His work had been done bravely and unselfishly, and the monks had asked that he be sent to a place where suns.h.i.+ne and milder air would give him a chance to recover his strength and prolong his life. Jan greatly missed this dear friend.

There were cold mornings when Prince Jan rose stiffly, for he had not been hardened to the trail work from puppy days as Rollo and the other dogs had been. Five years of warm suns.h.i.+ne in the Land of No Snow had made Jan's muscles soft and flabby and he felt the cold weather more than any of the other St. Bernards. Then, too, his long hair made the work of the trails harder for him because the snow clung to his fur and when it melted and soaked to his skin, the monks watched carefully to keep him from becoming chilled. Once or twice he had limped badly after coming in from his work, and then he had been rubbed and taken into the Big Room and allowed to stretch before the fireplace, and for a while he was not sent out with the other dogs.

One day during summer many of the dogs were given a chance to exercise outdoors. Jan sat watching the youngsters tumble each other about, while he recalled the times when he and Rollo had played that way and old Bruno had sat watching them. Then one of the pups began barking, and soon the others added their calls of welcome as a little party of travellers appeared in the opening of the mountain pa.s.s toward Martigny.

Jan, mindful of his responsibility, joined in the calls. His deep, mellow tones sounded distinctly above the others, but he did not know that those on the trail had stopped while an old man, mounted on a mule, cried out, "Listen! That is Jan! I know his voice!"

A younger man and a young woman who were also mounted on mules, laughed happily, though the woman's eyes were filled with tears as she looked at the old man. Then they hurried on and soon were in plain sight of the steps that led into the Hospice. In a few more minutes the mules stopped and the dogs crowded about to show how glad they were to have visitors.

The old man climbed down from his mule and turned to face the dogs. He looked quickly from one to the other, until he found the one he sought.

Prince Jan started, his eyes lighted up suddenly, his head was lifted high, then with a yelp of joy the big dog leaped forward.

"Jan! Jan! You haven't forgotten me, have you?" cried the old poundmaster, kneeling down and putting his arms about the s.h.a.ggy neck, while the dog's rough tongue licked the wrinkled hand, and little whimpers of delight told of Jan's happiness.

The other dogs crowded around in excitement, wondering what it all meant, and the guide, with the lady and gentleman, now beside the old man, kept talking together and patting Jan's head. But he did not think of them as they moved to the door, for Jan's only thought was to keep closely beside his dear old master whose hand rested on the furry head, and whose kindly, faded blue eyes were filled with tears of joy. Jan's eyes spoke his own happiness and love.

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. But it had not taken her very long to learn how much her father wished to see Prince Jan once more. So the little family had travelled back to Jan's home in the Alps.

That evening Jan was very happy as he stretched before the fireplace at the captain's feet. He did not sleep, for his eyes were fixed on the old man's face, and when the poundmaster reached down to touch Jan's head, the dog's tail swished and thumped. Then Jan rose to his feet and laid his head on the captain's knee, just as he used to do in the other days.

The monks talked very earnestly with the captain's daughter and her husband, and at last they all sat down together, smiling at Jan. He did not understand what they were saying but he knew they were very happy, and he was happy with them.

What they had talked about was their plan for the dog. He was now past eight years old and in a short time would not be able to go out on the trail. Prince Jan had done his part in the work of the St. Bernards with honor to himself and to them, and now that he was growing old, the monks felt that he was ent.i.tled to spend his last years in comfort and happiness with his old friend, Captain Smith.

So, the next morning Jan was brought to the entrance of the Hospice, and there, as before, he saw Captain Smith on the mule. The captain's daughter and her husband were mounted on the other mules, and the guide had started along the trail.

Jan looked at the monks who were grouped on the stone steps, then he looked at the captain. The mules moved slowly behind the guide. Prince Jan gave a pitiful little whimper as he saw them go. Then he heard the voice of the monk who now had charge of the kennels.

"Go on, Jan!"

The dog took a few steps and stopped. The monks were smiling and pointing toward the trail that led to Martigny. He turned and watched those who were riding down that trail. They reached the gap and paused.

Jan stood with trembling body, his eyes filled with longing and grief.

Then clear and strong he heard the voice he loved.

"Come on, Jan! We're going home now!"

"Woof! 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. He did not know where he was going, but it made no difference to him. His master was looking down at him and smiling.

THE END