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 sunshine, 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
sunshine 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 sunshine 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 pass 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 shaggy 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 entitled 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
End of Project Gutenberg's Prince Jan, St. Bernard, by Forrestine C. Hooker