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 passed 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 cocked 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."