"And do you doubt that it was?" Anton asked.
"No," Franz admitted, "but Caesar had something to do with it, too. Why
cannot he be given due credit?"
"You have not learned the lesson of patience," Anton told him. "That is
not surprising, because no youth has. I tell you everything will be all
right."
"I hope so," Franz said gloomily. "Now, since all this thinking has
pained me, I will clean the stable."
"A worthy endeavor," Anton said, "and one well calculated to remove your
mind from your own troubles."
Caesar threw himself down on a pile of hay, pillowed his head on his
paws and went to sleep. Franz started cleaning the stable. He sighed
again. It would be nice if he were wise, like Father Benjamin or even
like Anton, for then he would know so many things that otherwise he
could never hope to know.
Since he was stupid and knew nothing except how to work with his hands,
he must find contentment in such work. Presently he found it and became
so absorbed in what he was doing that he was startled by Anton's voice,
saying, "We must close the shutters, for it is starting to snow."
Franz looked up to discover that the stable, never bright as long as
snow was heaped around the shutter openings, had grown noticeably
dimmer. He hurried to help close the shutters. Anton lighted his candle
lantern and hung it on the peg. With the shutters closed, the scream of
the wind died to a soft moaning.
Caesar rose to pace beside Franz, as though in so doing he was somehow
standing between his master and the storm. The four gentle cows, never
doubting that they would be cared for, munched their hay. In the fitful
light of the candle lantern, Anton's massive face looked strangely
sober.
"It will be well for one of us to have his supper and then the other,
little Franz," he said. "The storm will not grow less, and one of us
should be here to reassure the cows if the wind screams too loudly. Do
you want to go first?"
"No, you go," Franz urged.
"Very well."
The giant opened the stable door, braced against the wind, slipped into
his skis, closed the door and was gone. Franz huddled very close to
Caesar while the four cows stamped and munched. He shuddered, not in
fear but with awe. This was what winter in St. Bernard Pass truly meant.
The wind that sounded inside the stable as a doleful moan, was a
screaming demon outside. A strong man would have to struggle just to
stand against it.
Twenty minutes later, the stable door opened and Anton came back. He
carried a bowl and a dish.
"I have brought your supper, little Franz, for you must remain here," he
said. "There is very great trouble. Father Stephen has only now come
into the refectory. He is almost spent. A traveler missing from the rest
house has not arrived at the Hospice and Father Stephen has been
searching for him."
"What now?" Franz asked, with some alarm.
Anton replied, "We all go, little Franz. The Fathers and the
_maronniers_ alike, all search for that traveler until he is found. That
is our only reason for being here."
"I will eat quickly and be ready at once," Franz said.