“We are always treated kindly,” Prince Jan hastened to say, and he glanced at Rollo, who replied, “Of course, we are!”

The two pups did not notice Mr. Pixley’s next words, “My little girl will be delighted with him.”

Brother Antoine called, “Here, Jan,” and when the little fellow stood looking up with bright, expectant eyes, the monk fastened a collar about the dog’s neck.

Jan trembled.  He was sure that he was now going to be sent out to do his first work on the trail.  It would not be playing this time, but real work like the big dogs.  The collar was stiff but he did not mind the discomfort, for it meant that he was not a puppy any longer.  He twisted his head to see which of the older dogs was to go out with him, as he crossed the forbidden line with the monk.  The only dog that followed Jan was his brother, Rollo, and when Brother Antoine ordered, “Go back, Rollo!” the pup’s ears and tail drooped and he slunk back to his mother as though in disgrace.

“The big dogs must be waiting outside,” thought Jan happily, and he walked proudly beside the monk until he stood on the top step, then he looked back at his mother, Bruno, Rollo, and the other dogs who were watching him.  Usually they all barked joyously when a pup was to go out on his first real work, and the noisy barks were advice.  Now, the only sounds were two short barks from Bruno, “Good-bye, Jan!  Remember your father!”

“I will remember him!” he called back, and then he wondered at the long, despairing howl from his mother.  It filled his heart with dread.

“Come, Jan,” the monk spoke, and the little fellow turned obediently toward the door that would shut him from sight of the other dogs.  His feet dragged now, and as he passed through the doorway leading to the long corridor he looked back once more.

When he stood outside the big entrance door, he saw the snow covering the mountains and hiding the chasms that he had seen in the summer when he had been out having his lessons with Rollo.  He knew these smooth, level places held real danger.  Then he saw dog tracks leading in two directions from the steps, but none of the older dogs were waiting for him.  As he looked up with questioning, brown eyes, Brother Antoine leaned down and fastened a stout rope to the new collar and handed the end of this rope to Mr. Pixley, who was muffled in his big, fur coat.  A guide was with Mr. Pixley.  As they stood there a moment, the door of the Hospice again opened, and this time the grey-eyed man and another guide came out.  The kind, grey eyes looked at Jan, then the man stooped over and patted him gently, and no one but the dog heard the pitying voice that said, “Poor little Prince Jan!  Good-bye!”

Brother Antoine lifted Jan’s nose and the pup looked into the monk’s eyes, but there was something he did not understand.  It was all so different from what the other dogs had told him.  He felt the rope tug his collar and knew that he must follow this stranger.  He heard again a heart-rending howl from his mother, “Good-bye, Jan, good-bye!” Bruno’s voice blended with hers, and then the voices of all the dogs Jan knew and loved mingled in that call.  Something hurt him all over, but most of the hurt was in his heart.