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PRINCE JAN
ST. BERNARD
[Illustration: _"'The duty of a St. Bernard is to save lives and be
worthy of his ancestors.'"_]
PRINCE JAN
ST. BERNARD
BY FORRESTINE C. HOOKER
Illustrated by LYNN BOGUE HUNT
DOUBLEDAY & CO., INC.
GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
1946
TO
AN AMERICAN PATRIOT
My father, Brigadier-General Charles L. Cooper, U.S.A., whose life for
fifty-seven years, from May 27, 1862 to September 30, 1919, when he
answered the Last Roll Call, was devoted to the service of his Country
and his Flag.
F.C.H.
CL
1921, DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY,
N.Y.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE HOSPICE DOGS 1
II. THE LAND OF SNOW 14
III. A NEW WORLD 29
IV. THE LAND OF NO SNOW 38
V. JAN LEARNS TO HATE 46
VI. THE POUND 58
VII. HIPPITY-HOP 71
VIII. THE MUZZLE 81
IX. JAN'S JOURNEY TO THE LAND OF MAKE-BELIEVE 94
X. THE HOME OF THE SUNBONNET BABIES 101
XI. PRINCE JAN VISITS SHORTY 114
XII. THE POUNDMASTER'S PROBLEM 125
XIII. THE VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 140
XIV. A FIRESIDE STORY 157
XV. AN UNFORGOTTEN TRAIL 167
XVI. PRINCE JAN DECIDES 175
XVII. JAN'S REWARD 180
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Facing Page
"'You must be crazy, this is the pound,' snapped
the tiny creature" 62
"'I wish the children could see Jan now'" 114
"Then the roaring in his ears turned to the voices
of the Hospice dogs--'The duty of a St. Bernard
is to save lives'" 148
PRINCE JAN
_St. Bernard_
Chapter I
THE HOSPICE DOGS
Prince Jan was a fuzzy, woolly puppy with clumsy paws and fat, round
body covered with tawny hair. His brown eyes looked with loving
good-will at everything and everybody.
Jan and his brother, Rollo, had great fun playing together, his long fur
making it easy for Rollo to haul him around, while Jan's teeth slipped
from his brother's short hair. Though they tumbled about and growled
fiercely at each other, their eyes were dancing with laughter.
When tired of playing, they would coax their mother to tell them stories
about the Hospice dogs. Then they would lie very quietly listening with
pricked-up ears and earnest eyes. Sometimes Bruno, the oldest dog in
the kennels, would join in the talk, and all the young dogs would gather
around to hear the history of their family. Prince Jan and Rollo,
cuddled beside their mother, would look at each other with pride,
remembering that they, too, were St. Bernards.
"I have heard the monks tell visitors that our ancestors have lived in
the Hospice for a thousand years," said Bruno in one of his talks. "When
you puppies are old enough, you will be trained for work. The duty of a
St. Bernard dog is to save lives and be worthy of his ancestors."
Jan and Rollo looked at him and thumped their tails to show that they
understood.
"A good St. Bernard dog must have a sensitive nose, sturdy legs, and
keen brains," Bruno's voice was very sober. "He knows what he must do
when he finds a human being lost in the storm or frozen in the snow.
Then he leads the way to the Hospice, or if the traveller does not
follow, the dog brings monks to aid the man. Should one of us ever fail
to do his best," he turned his big head slowly and his eyes were serious
as he looked at the puppies, "it would mean disgrace for all the rest of
the St. Bernard dogs."
"Tell us more stories, Bruno," the youngsters begged.
"Not to-day," Bruno shook his wise head. "Your ancestors have done great
things, and you have the right to be proud of them, but the only way to
prove yourselves worthy is for you to do your duty as well as they did
theirs. Unless you remember your lessons and follow them, you will not
be true St. Bernards, and your failures will be stains on the honor of
the name we bear. Never forget that as long as you live!"
Bruno understood that the soft little whimpers were promises that each
puppy would do his best when the test came to him. Jan and Rollo watched
the old dog, limping from rheumatism in his shoulders, move slowly
across the enclosed yard that opened from the kennels. Bruno was no
longer able to go out on the trails, but spent his days teaching the
young dogs. Sometimes he would lie asleep, and when his paws jerked and
his tail moved, Jan's mother would say, "Be quiet, children! Bruno is
dreaming he is out on the trail."
Then she would speak softly, "When you are older you will be taught to
break trails through the snow and carry food and wine, fastened about
your necks. You may be tempted, when the wind howls and the snow blinds
you, to sneak back or hide in a sheltered place. You must not forget, as
long as you live, that there was never a traitor or coward in your
father's family or in mine. When you remember this, you will stagger on
or crawl, if you cannot stand, and keep your nose close to the ground,
sniffing and sniffing."
She turned her head toward the white peaks that loomed high above the
stone walls around the enclosure. "Only a St. Bernard can tell whether
the snow which has drifted during the night is strong enough to bear the
weight of a man, or whether that man would sink beyond rescuing."
Jan and his brother waited respectfully when she stopped speaking and
stared at the mountain-tops, until she said, "Sometimes, you will find
an ice-bridge. Then you must go very carefully. If it creaks beneath
your weight, never let any human being step on it, even if you must
fight him back. Your father, Rex, died when an ice-bridge broke through;
but he saved four men from death. Always remember one thing. To die
doing one's duty is the greatest honor that can come to a St. Bernard."
The two puppies whined softly and their mother knew that each of her
children was promising that he would do his best to be worthy of such a
father.
"Ah," said Prince Jan to his brother, as their mother crossed the yard
toward the kennel, "some day we, too, will go out and do our work. Won't
that be glorious, Rollo?"
In their happiness they raced to their mother, who watched them with
loving, proud eyes. When they reached her side Jan measured himself to
see how much bigger he must grow, for though he was large for his age,
he was only six months old.
"Oh, if I could only grow faster, mother!" he cried.
"Be patient, Jan," she answered, biting his ear gently. "Your time is
coming soon!"
"My time is coming! My time is coming!" Jan leaped and barked in glee.
"Mine, too!" called Rollo. "We'll work together, Jan!"
The big door leading from the enclosure where the dogs romped and played
swung open, and two men who came out, stood looking at the dogs. The
puppies watched eagerly, for these men had charge of the youngsters. All
the dogs knew them, and even if the men had been strangers the Hospice
dogs would have known they were monks who belonged to the Hospice, for
the clothes they wore were different from the clothes of other men who
came to the Hospice for a day or two.
A long, black, close-fitting coat reached almost to the feet of each
monk, a peaked hood hung between his shoulders and a little round,
black, skull-cap was on his head. All of the monks dressed the same way,
and when it was cold and they went out on the trail, they took off the
little cap and pulled the peaked hood over their heads and around their
ears.
The dogs hurried to the monks and one of the men leaned down and felt
Jan's legs and back. Prince Jan looked anxiously into the two kindly
faces. He had seen them do the same thing with other puppies, and
afterwards many of his playmates went away and never returned. At first
he and Rollo thought they had died on the trail, like their ancestors;
but Jan's mother shook her head sadly and said, "They were not strong
enough to do the work."
Now he remembered this and wondered if he would be sent away. His little
legs and back stiffened so that the monks would see how strong he was.
"I believe this will be one of the best dogs we have had since Barry's
time," said Brother Antoine, running his hand along Jan's back. "He has
wonderful muscles and a very strong back. We will take him out and give
him a trial to-morrow."
Jan licked the hand that rested on his head, then he dashed to his
mother's side, yelping with excitement and panting out the good news.
She looked with pride into his happy eyes and said, "You are going to be
just like your father! He was a descendant of Barry, the bravest dog of
us all. You will be a credit to your ancestors!"
"I will do the very best I can," promised little Prince Jan. Then he lay
down and wrinkled his soft forehead as he tried to remember everything
that Bruno and his mother had taught him, so that he would be ready for
his first lesson.
The next morning he was wide awake before any of the other dogs. They
all slept in a big basement under the Hospice building. Jan could see
the arched corridors that reached along the big room with its floor of
grey stone. The cows of the Hospice were kept in the basement, too, for
there was never any green grass outside for them to graze upon. Here and
there curled dogs that Prince Jan knew. Jupitiére, Junon, Mars, Vulcan,
Pluton, Leon, and Bruno were not far away from him.
At last the door leading to the yard was opened and the dogs raced and
tumbled out, looking like great, tawny lions and cubs rushing from stone
cages. They ate a breakfast of boiled rice that was poured into troughs
for them, then Jan turned impatiently to the door, hoping it would not
be very long before Brother Antoine would come for him. When the monk
appeared on the stone steps Jan trembled nervously, and went forward
quickly, but stopped at a certain point. He remembered what his mother
had told him and Rollo. They must never step beyond that place, even
though visitors called to them. Brother Antoine smiled as he saw the pup
halt.
"Time for your first lesson, Prince Jan," said the monk in his gentle
voice that all the dogs loved. Rollo whined pleadingly, and the monk
laughed, "Yes, you, too, Rollo. Come along, both of you!"
With sharp yelps they followed to the door, through the arched
corridors, up a short flight of steps, past a big room. Rollo and Jan
waited impatiently while Brother Antoine unfastened three doors, one
after the other, and then as the last one opened, the two dogs dashed
out into the snow.
They gave little barks of joy and thrust their noses into the cold white
mass, tossing it high and digging into drifts with broad clumsy paws,
then stopping to rush at each other and tumble almost out of sight in
their play.
It was summer-time at the Hospice, though no one would have guessed it,
for the snow lay in masses on all sides, the little lake was frozen
over, and the peaks of the mountains were sheeted with snow and
blue-white ice that never melted the year around. There was not so much
danger for travellers during the months of July and August, and as the
work was lighter for both the dogs and the monks, the puppies were then
taken out for their first lessons.
A collar was fastened to Prince Jan's neck and from it hung a small
bell that tinkled clearly with each step the proud little fellow took.
When he looked back he saw his brother also had a collar and bell, and
then a casket was tied to each pup's neck. Both dogs watched the monks
and at a sign from Brother Antoine they trotted carefully along the
narrow, slippery way.
There were no trees, grass, or flowers growing for many miles around the
Hospice, for the earth was buried deep under rocks, and these rocks were
covered all the time with a white blanket of snow, which drifted into
the hollow places until it was many feet deep. The narrow trail twisted
between cragged mountains, and often the dogs could look down so far
that it would have made them dizzy, had they not been Hospice dogs.
They trudged along happily for a long distance, then Brother Antoine
spoke to his companion and commanded Jan and Rollo to lie down. They
obeyed at once, and watched him go on alone until he disappeared around
a bend of the trail. The pups looked at each other anxiously, and fixed
their eyes on the face of the monk who had stayed with them, but he was
staring at the trail. Prince Jan whimpered softly, and Rollo echoed the
sound, but neither of them rose to their feet.
"Wait!" said the monk, and the dogs trembled with eagerness as they
sniffed the cold air.
At last the monk ordered, "Go!" Instantly they leaped to their feet and
raced along the narrow pathway, their noses close against the snow to
catch the scent of Brother Antoine who was somewhere ahead of them.
At times they ran from the path to follow little gullies of heavy snow.
They knew that Brother Antoine had trodden here, though no trace of his
steps could be seen on the surface, for the snow slid quickly in the
summer months, and masses of it kept covering the slopes as it shifted
rapidly. In this way Jan and Rollo trailed Brother Antoine until they
reached a spot where they could find no further scent though they went
around in circles. The other monk, who had followed more slowly, stood
watching them as they paused, uncertain what to do. He made no sign to
help them, but suddenly Prince Jan gave a sharp bark and thrust his nose
deeply into the snow, where he began digging as fast as he could. Rollo,
too, understood, and his front paws worked as fast as his brother's
until they had uncovered the face and shoulders of Brother Antoine, who
had buried himself under the snow to see if they could find him.
Both puppies leaped about in glee, barking and yelping until the sides
of the narrow pass sent back echoes like many unseen dogs answering
them. Brother Antoine rose to his feet, smiling. He patted the soft,
fuzzy heads while the other monk told how the dogs had acted without any
help at all.
"Jan led the way," he said to Brother Antoine. "He shows wonderful
intelligence."
"It is his father's blood," replied Brother Antoine, then he pointed
toward the Hospice. "Go back!" he ordered. Prince Jan started obediently
toward his home, while Rollo followed closely, but every once in a while
both dogs turned back, or waited a bit, until the monks caught up to
them.
They reached the stone steps leading up to the front door of the
Hospice. The door swung open, and the puppies, with Brother Antoine,
trudged through the long corridor, down to the basement, under the high
archways and once again were in the big, enclosed yard. The other dogs
crowded about them as they stood proud and important, for that day
Prince Jan and Rollo had learned the first lesson on the trail. But they
both knew that this was only play and their real work would come when
the snow piled so deep about the walls of the Hospice that it almost
reached the high, peaked roof.