Rescue Dog of the High Pass Part 13

Jean Greb, seeing the peril, had chosen to climb above the steep portion on the west slope, rather than veer to the east. It was a choice any mountaineer might have made. But something, possibly the light ski tread of Jean Greb and Professor Luttman, had started the snow on the steep wall rolling. This, in turn, had set off an avalanche on the gentle slope and all of it had poured into the gulley.

In the center of the gulley, snow lay a hundred feet deep. On the north end, where the cleavage between the snow that had rolled and that which had not rolled was almost as sharp as though some colossus had cut it with a knife, there was a near-perpendicular drop that varied between sixty and ninety feet in height. The tremendous force of the avalanche had packed the snow to icy hardness.

Father Benjamin halted, waved his arm and said, "I found your friend here, Franz. He was trying to dig into the snow."

Franz stared with unbelieving eyes at the faint scars in the immense pile of snow. They could have been made only by a ski pole, but a ski pole was the only tool Jean had. Franz knew suddenly that Father Benjamin had been entirely right in bringing Jean to the Hospice. A hundred men with a hundred shovels could not move that ma.s.s of snow in a hundred years. It was better to save the man who could be saved than to let him senselessly risk his life for the man who could not.

"You found him here?" Anton Martek asked.

Father Benjamin answered, "This is where the avalanche cast him up.

Since he and his companion were traveling very close together, he is sure that his friend cannot be far from this place."

Anton said, "I know of nothing we may do except dig here."

"Nor I," said Father Mark.

Father Benjamin said, "If I had a better idea, I would surely make it known. Let us dig, and let us have faith as we do so."

The boy seized a shovel and began to dig, along with Anton and the two priests. He shook his head in disbelief for, even though he used all his strength, his shovel took only a tiny bite of the hard-packed snow.

Despite the cold wind that snapped up the gulley like an angry wolf, beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead....

Franz thought that an hour might have pa.s.sed when, while the other three continued to dig, he had to stop and rest. For the first time, it occurred to him to look about for Caesar.

The big dog was at the north end of the avalanche, peering over the perpendicular wall. He trotted anxiously back and forth, then leaned over to rest his front paws on a ledge. Suddenly Franz remembered when Caesar had found Emil Gottschalk buried in the snow.

Anton Martek and the two priests remained too busy to notice the boy's departure when he made his way to Caesar's side. The great mastiff wagged his tail furiously and stared down the wall of snow.

"Is he there?" Franz whispered. "Is he there, Caesar?"

The dog took three paces forward and three back. He whined, leaned over again to rest his front paws on the ledge, then withdrew to his master's side. Franz studied the awful wall that suddenly seemed a thousand feet high, and where a mistake in judgment or a misstep meant possible death and certain injury.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Suddenly Franz remembered when Caesar had found Emil Gottschalk buried in the snow_]

But Caesar would not stop staring down it, and only three feet below was the ledge where he had rested his paws. Franz stepped down, widened the ledge with his shovel and reached behind him to help the dog down. He sought the next ledge that he might dig out with his shovel.

They were halfway down the wall when the boy heard a thunderous, "Franz!

Franz! Come back!"

He recognized Father Benjamin's voice but he dared not look back, for even a fairy could not have found more standing room on the thin ledge where the boy and his dog stood. Franz reached down with his shovel to scoop out the next ledge.

After what seemed an eternity, they were at the bottom of the wall.

Caesar ran forward and began to dig in the snow. Sc.r.a.ping beside him, presently Franz found the limp arm of a man.

Cold as the arm was, he could still feel the pulse that beat within it.

14: THE MESSAGE

The fire in the refectory's great fireplace roared. The Prior, the Canons, the Sacristan, and everyone else who lived at the Hospice of St.

Bernard and did not have to be away on some urgent business, were gathered around it.

Jean Greb, who felt well enough to sit up by now, occupied a chair in front of the fire. Shaken and thoroughly chilled, but not seriously injured, Professor Luttman lay on Jean's pallet.

The Prior said, "Let us have the dog brought forth. Even though he cannot understand it, he should hear the message."

All eyes turned to Franz, beside whom Caesar had been sitting only recently. The boy looked toward the door.

Caesar, who had accepted the stable but found the refectory much too hot, was waiting just inside the door. His jaws were spread and his tongue lolled. He wagged his tail at Franz and whined, obviously an invitation for his master to open the door and let him out into the comfortable snow.

"He finds the fire much too hot." The boy spoke with a free tongue from a happy heart. He wondered now why he had ever been overawed by the Prior or anyone else at the Hospice. Beneath their somber habits beat very warm and wonderful hearts. If it were any other way, they would not be here. Franz finished, "He wants me to let him out."

"A true dog of the high pa.s.s," the Prior said. "Very well, Franz. You may let him out."

The boy walked to the door, opened it, and Caesar trotted out gratefully. He began to roll in the snow. Franz returned to his place.

The Prior said, "All of us know of the miracle, a miracle wrought by a young _maronnier_ and his dog. Now we shall hear the message Professor Luttman carries."

"I have imparted the message to you," Professor Luttman protested. "You are the proper person to tell Franz."

"Not I!" The Prior laughed. "I am merely an onlooker here, and I must say that, for once, I thoroughly enjoy the spectator's role. Proceed, Professor Luttman."

"Very well." The Professor turned to Franz. "Do you know what I really thought the day I expelled you from my school?"

"You thought I was too stupid to learn," Franz replied.

"No such thing!" Professor Luttman denied. "I thought, 'There goes an Alpinist, one who can never discover in my beloved books any of the inspiration that he finds in his beloved mountains. It is truly unjust to keep him in school when he does not belong here.' I thought also that, one day, you would make your mark in the world."

"I am just a _maronnier_ at St. Bernard Hospice," Franz protested.

"And how grateful I am because you are 'just a _maronnier_,'" Professor Luttman said. "Were you not, I would have died in the snow."

"They would have found you," Franz insisted.

"We would not!" Anton Martek spoke up. "We would have continued digging where we thought he was. It never occurred to any of us that he might be three hundred feet away and down the wall of snow."

"That is true," Father Benjamin agreed.

"Very true," said Father Mark.

"So I am alive today because of you and Caesar," Professor Luttman continued. "Emil Gottschalk lives for the same reason. He wanted to give you--" Professor Luttman named a greater sum of money than the boy had ever thought existed.

"I would not accept his money," Franz a.s.serted firmly.

Professor Luttman said, "So I told him, so your father told him, too, but both of us agreed that the Hospice of St. Bernard might well use it.