Here they walked about, while the mule was unhitched and the little wagon was left behind.  The captain now climbed on the back of the mule, and the doctor and muleteer walked on either side of him.  The road had changed to a narrow, slippery pathway, one side of which dropped down to a deep chasm with a fringe of snow showing here and there.

In front of them loomed mountains, and as the path twisted sharply, Jan stopped short and stared ahead.  Far away rose a huge white mountain, and around it grouped peaks of dazzling snow, the first snow Jan had seen since he was a puppy.

The doctor and the old man were watching him, but Jan did not see them.  He was remembering things he had almost forgotten.  Slowly the mule climbed, and the twisting trail turned and wound higher and higher.  Jan lifted his head and sniffed the air that was growing colder.  Then as they turned where the path seemed to end, the dog gave a loud bark and dashed ahead of them where something white lay on the ground.  Faster and faster his feet flew until he stood in this white patch.  His nose touched it and tossed it in little white clouds, he threw himself down and rolled over and over, then jumped to his feet and barked in sharp, excited tones.  Again he snapped at it, and then he raced along the trail, frisking like a puppy, while the doctor and the captain kept smiling at each other and nodding their heads.

But not until a tiny cabin was reached, where they all went inside to rest a short time, did Prince Jan recognize the little Rest House and knew that the white trail winding up the mountain side would end at the door of the Hospice.

So, when the old man was perched again on the mule and the travellers started toward the high white peak, Jan did not wait longer, but raced ahead of them, barking as he ran.  Up, up, faster and faster, he ran.  His heart pounded, his tongue hung far out of his mouth, he plunged his nose into the soft, cold drifts, sometimes stopping to take a big bite, then with yelps of joy he darted on.

And high above the steep trail rose the sharp peaks that shadowed the hundreds of deep gullies:  places where the snow never melted, even in summer.  And Prince Jan knew that he was following once more the path that his forefathers had trodden.

He stopped quickly and lifted his nose high, then he sent forth the great cry of the St. Bernard dogs.  The deep tones echoed from crag to crag, until it sounded as if all the dogs that had ever trodden that trail were answering him.

Another twist of the pathway showed the jagged tips of the highest peaks, and just back of that crest rose the roof of the Hospice.  Jan stood still for a second before he sent again that call of his people.  Again he heard the voices answering, but this time the answer came from the dogs in the kennel-yards.

Jan trembled with excitement, then he shot forward and did not stop until he had reached the worn stone steps that he remembered so well.  The door was closed, but some instinct made him raise his head and give the cry of the trail.