THE SCHOOLMASTER'S VISIT
"GOOD news! good news!" cried Carl, as he came running into the house,
quite out of breath.
"The schoolmaster is coming, mother. I know it must be he. Come, Franz,
let's go to meet him."
The sun was just hiding his head behind the mountain-tops, and the
little family were about to sit down to their evening meal.
"Do go at once, my dear boys," said Carl's mother. "Tell the good
teacher how glad we are at his coming."
It was not a complete surprise, for the schoolmaster had promised Carl
to spend a week with him on the mountain pastures, if it were possible.
Another place was quickly set at the table. In a few minutes the boys
returned, and with them was a man with a kind face and a hearty voice.
"Welcome, welcome! my friend," said Rudolf. "It is indeed a pleasure to
see you here. What news is there from the good folks of our village?"
"They are all well, and send greetings. Even poor little Gretel, the
cretin, seemed to understand where I was coming, and she sent you her
love."
What is a cretin, you wonder? A person of weak mind is so called in
Switzerland. You often find such people who are not as bright as they
should be. The mind is dull and dark, it cannot see and understand like
others.
Why is it that cretins are often found in the homes of the poor? Some
think it is because the Swiss are such hard workers, and yet do not
have the nourishing food they should.
"Have you been at home all summer?" asked Rudolf.
"No, I had business that took me over the St. Bernard Pass. It was a
hard journey, even in this summer-time, for I travelled most of the way
on foot."
"O, how I wish I could have gone with you," cried Franz. "I have always
longed to visit the good monks and see their brave dogs."
"It must be a terrible tramp over the mountain in winter," the
schoolmaster went on. "Yet every year there are some people who need
to go that way at that season. How much worse it would be, however, if
the monastery were not there, with the priests living in it and giving
their lives to help others."
"They say that the cold is so great that the monks cannot stand more
than a few years of such a life," said Rudolf.
"It is true," replied the schoolmaster. "Many of them die before their
time, while others must after a while go down to warmer lands. The
noble dogs that they raise stand the cold much better."
"I have often made a picture for myself of a snow-storm on the St.
Bernard," said Carl, thoughtfully. He had not spoken for a long time.
"How the drifts pile up and fill the pathway. The snow falls thick and
fast, and after a while the poor traveller cannot tell which way to
turn. He grows cold and numb; he is quite tired out. At last he gives
up hope, and perhaps he sinks down, and perhaps he loses all sense of
where he is. Now is the very time that the good monks, watching the
storm, loose the dogs. But first, food and reviving drink are fastened
to the collars of the trusty animals.
"Off they bound, down the mountainside, scenting the air on every side.
They understand their duty and work faithfully. They find the poor
traveller in time to save his life and guide him to the home of the
priests. Ah! how I love these good men and their faithful dogs."
"Your cheeks have grown quite rosy with the story, my boy," said the
schoolmaster. "The picture in your mind must be bright, indeed. But
we cannot praise too highly both the monks and their loving deeds.
Sometimes, alas! the dogs do not find the travellers in time, however.
Then they can only drag their dead bodies to the monastery, where they
will stay till friends of the travellers come to claim them. But enough
of this sad thought for to-night; let us talk of other things."
"Dear master," said Franz, "please tell us of other things you have
seen this summer. We always love to hear your stories."
"Let me see. O, yes, now I think of something that will interest you
boys. I travelled for quite a distance with a hunter. He had been in
search of chamois, but he says they are getting very scarce now. He was
bringing home only one."
[Illustration: "'FOLLOWING ITS MASTER ABOUT JUST LIKE A DOG.'"]
"It seems a shame to kill the poor creatures," said Carl's father.
"They are gentle and harmless, and take pleasure in living where others
find only danger. Once I came suddenly upon a herd of them. They seemed
to be having a game of chase together, and were frolicking gaily. But
at the sound of my footstep they fled like the wind over the snow and
ice. In a moment, almost, they were out of sight."
"Why can they climb where no one else is able to go?" asked Carl.
"Behind each hoof there is another called the false hoof," replied the
schoolmaster. "I looked at those of the dead chamois the hunter was
carrying home. These extra hoofs give the creature the power to hold
himself in places which would not be safe without their aid. Their
bodies are very light and their legs are slim, while they seem to be
entirely without fear of anything save men."
"Poor little things," exclaimed Franz. "We are taught to be kind to
the birds and to protect them in every way. I never in my life knew of
a Swiss harming a bird's nest. We ought to be kind to the chamois as
well. I once knew a boy who had a tame one for a pet. His father caught
it when it was very young. It was the dearest little thing, following
its master about just like a dog. In summer its hair was yellowish
brown, but in winter it grew darker and was almost black."
"Did you know that the chamois always have a sentinel on guard while
they are feeding?" asked the schoolmaster.
"No, sir," said both boys together.
"Yes, it is true, the hunters have told me so. If this chamois guard
hears the slightest sound or discovers even a footprint, he at once
gives an alarm. Away flees the herd in search of safety.
"But, dear me! it is growing late and you must be up early in the
morning. Then you must show me your store of cheeses," he added,
turning to Carl's mother. "The cows are looking fine; they must enjoy
the pastures here. And now, good night. May you all sleep well in the
care of the loving Father."
In a few minutes every one in the little cottage was resting quietly.