Prince Jan, St. Bernard | Page 7

has a magnificent coat of hair!"
"That is the only point against him," said Brother Antoine. "During the
big storm of 1815 we learned that long-haired dogs break down from
the snow clinging and freezing like a coat of mail; or the thick hair
holding moisture developed pneumonia. We brought Newfoundland
dogs to fill the kennels when only three St. Bernards were left, but the
long, heavy hair of the new breed that was part Newfoundland and part
St. Bernard proved a failure. They could not stand the snow storms.

Now, we very rarely keep a long-haired pup. He is generally sold or
presented to some one who will give him kind treatment."
Jan looked suddenly at Rollo and the other puppies near him. All
except himself had short hair. Now he remembered his mother's
worried eyes each time the monks had examined him. He hurried to her
side and pushed her with his nose, as he whispered, "Mother, will they
send me away because I have long hair? You know, Brother Antoine
said that I was one of the best dogs they have had for a long time!"
"Don't worry, Jan," she soothed him. "Even though your fur is long,
you are so strong and so like your father, who had long hair, too, that I
am sure you will be kept here. Hurry, Jan I Brother Antoine is calling
you back."
Jan pushed among the other dogs until he stood again at the monk's
side. The two strangers looked at Jan, and Brother Antoine touched the
pup's head lovingly.
"His father was one of our best dogs," the monk spoke. "But that was
not surprising. He was a direct descendant of Barry. Four travellers owe
their lives to Jan's father, Rex."
The little fellow tried not to look too proud as he listened again to the
story his mother had told him and Rollo many times.
"Rex was guiding four men to the Hospice after a big storm last Fall. It
was the worst since 1815. The men told us the story after they reached
us. They had lost all hope, their guide had fallen down a crevasse and
they were exhausted when Rex found them. They knew that their only
chance of life was to follow him. He went ahead, moving very slowly
and looking back while he barked to encourage them. An ice-bridge
had formed. It was hidden by deep snow and they did not understand
the danger that Rex knew so well. The dog went ahead, the men
keeping closely behind him. Half way across he turned and began
barking fiercely, and as they drew nearer, he started toward them
uttering savage snarls.

"They thought the dog had gone mad, and backed away as he advanced
threateningly. Then suddenly his snarl turned to a mournful howl that
was lost in frightful cracking as the ice-bridge broke away. Rex was
never seen again, but his warning prevented those four men from being
smothered in the chasm under hundreds of feet of snow. So, you see,
this little fellow comes of royal blood. That is why we named him
'Prince Jan.' He looks just like his father, too!"
Jan thrust his warm nose into Brother Antoine's hand.
"I want to be like my father and Barry," he said, hoping they would
understand him, as he understood them. "I will do my very best to be
worthy of them both!"
The visitors and the monk did not know what Jan said, but the other
dogs understood. Bruno's dim eyes beamed on the pup.
"You will be a credit to us all, Prince Jan!"
The strangers and Brother Antoine left the yard, and the dogs formed in
little groups to talk among themselves, as they always did when new
people came to see them.
"That man came from America," Bruno said to Jan's mother.
"Lots of people from America visit us," she replied, trying not to yawn,
for the storm had kept her awake. All night, while she felt the warm
little bodies of the puppies pressed against her side, she had stared into
the darkness, thinking of the time when Prince Jan and his brother must
go out, like their father, Rex, to do the work of the St. Bernards.
"Yes," Bruno added in a queer voice, "but this man said he was from
California, where they never have any snow!"
"What?" shouted all the dogs together. "A place where they never have
any snow? Oh, what a funny place that must be!"
"What do they walk on?" asked Jan's mother curiously.

Before Bruno could answer, Jan shoved up and said earnestly: "But,
mother, how do dogs save people where there is no snow?"
"I am sure I don't know," she told him. "Ask Bruno."
Neither Bruno nor any of the