Prince Jan, St. Bernard | Page 9

had trodden
many years on their errands of mercy. He wondered why he had been
sent out with a rope tied to his collar, why no older dog went with him,
and why he must follow this stranger instead of one of the monks. Jan
felt that he was disgraced. Someway he had failed. For a while he
followed despondently, then he tried to comfort himself as he trudged
at the end of the rope.
"Bruno and mother will know what is the matter," he thought hopefully.
"I'll ask them as soon as I get home to-night."
He looked back wistfully several times to see if the kindly, grey-eyed
stranger might be following them, but he had taken the opposite trail
from the one Mr. Pixley was travelling. Jan did not mind the long
tramp which ended at a place where houses were scattered about. Here
a carriage and horses were brought, and Jan would have been much
interested in these strange things had he not been so worried. He felt
himself lifted into the carriage with Mr. Pixley; then, as it moved, Jan
was thrown against the fur coat and looked up in fright.
"You are going to a new land," Mr. Pixley said, smoothing the pup's
velvety ear.
The dog lifted one paw and laid it on the man's knee, the brown eyes

that looked up were dull with misery. Jan knew, now, that he was being
taken away from the Hospice.
"Won't you take me back?" he begged.
But the man only heard a little whimper, and gave the dog a quick pat.
"You and Elizabeth will be great friends. Lie down now and be quiet!"
Jan dropped to the floor of the carriage, his head between his paws, and
his eyes that stared at the strange new master were full of wistful
pleading.
After that ride came days in a big, dark place that bumped and jerked
with horrible noises. He did not know that he was on a train. Jan had
lived all his life where the only disturbing sounds were the soft thud of
melting snow and the hissing of the avalanches down the mountain
sides. These strange noises hurt his ears. The pain in his heart kept
growing until he could only lie still and draw his breath in smothered
little whimpers that tore the inside of his throat. He could not eat nor
drink.
When Mr. Pixley took him from the train, the dog was led through
crowds of people and bustling, noisy streets that made Jan cringe and
cower. At last they reached a place where water stretched so far that it
touched the sky, and the water kept moving all the time. This
frightened him, for he had never seen any water excepting in the little
lake at the Hospice, and that water did not move, for it was nearly
always frozen over. Bewildered, Jan hung back, but the man to whom
Mr. Pixley had handed the rope dragged the dog up a walk of boards to
a strange-looking house on top of the water. Jan stumbled down the
dark stairs, into a hot, smelly place where he was fastened to a wall. An
old sack was thrown down, water and meat placed before him, then he
was left alone. Whistles screamed, bells jangled, all sorts of noises
pounded Jan's shrinking, sensitive ears as he cowered in an agony of
fear. The boat moved; but he thought, as it puffed and trembled, that a
huge, strange animal had swallowed him alive.
The rolling motion made him very sick. He could neither eat nor sleep,

but grew stiff and sore during the days and nights he was kept tied in
the hold of the vessel. Homesick and lonesome, poor little Prince Jan
lay for hours crying softly, but the only attention any one gave him was
to fill pans with water and food.
One day two women, wearing white caps on their heads, climbed down
the stairs with a little girl and boy. The children ran and put their arms
about the dog's neck and Jan wriggled and squirmed with happiness,
while he licked their hands and faces.
"Don't touch him," cried one of the women, pulling the girl away. "He
is filthy, beside, he might bite you."
The child drew back in alarm. Jan's gentle eyes watched them and his
tail waved slowly, trying to make them know that he loved them and
would not hurt them or anybody in the world.
"He won't hurt us, Nurse," the boy declared and put his hand on the
dog's big head. "I don't care whether he's dirty or clean, he's a bully fine
dog, and I wish he belonged to me and sister!"
"Oh, if they will only stay with me!" hoped Jan. "Maybe