The dog started quickly toward them, but something made him look again where Brother Antoine stood on the steps.  Jan hesitated, then he sat down facing the trail toward Martigny.  In a few minutes he saw the little procession start on its way.  He knew he could catch up with them easily if he ran fast, but still he sat without moving, his eyes fastened on that gap between the mountains.

He lifted his head and sent out the cry of his forefathers, so that the echoes rang again and again.  The answering voices died away, there was no sound save the swish of melting snow that slipped down the steep places, and then Prince Jan, St. Bernard, turned and trotted up the trail to the home of his ancestors.

Brother Antoine waited on the top step.  As the dog reached him, the monk stooped and patted him, whispering softly, “It is not easy, Prince Jan, when the paths that Love and Duty travel lie far apart.”

And so Prince Jan came back to the work of his ancestors, and as the months passed by he saved many lives and was very happy.  The young dogs listened in respectful wonder when he told of the strange places and things that he had found in the Land of No Snow.  They learned from him the lessons of obedience, loyalty, and kindliness.

“If you do the very best you know how, it will always work out right in the end,” Jan ended each talk.

But sometimes at night as he slept among the other dogs, he saw the captain walking about a room.  Cheepsie was perched on the old man’s shoulder, while Hippity-Hop skipped beside them, and the dog-knew that they were thinking of him.

Then Jan’s ears cocked up, his tail swished gently on the stone floor of the Hospice, for in his dreams he heard the faint sound of a quavering voice singing: 

    “Old dog Tray is ever faithful,
    Grief cannot drive him away. 
      He’s gentle and he’s kind
      And you’ll never, never find
    A better friend than old dog Tray.”

Chapter XVII

JAN’S REWARD

Two years went past and Jan’s work at the Hospice brought him great happiness, for he knew that he was doing the work of his ancestors and living a useful life.

Often as he travelled the snow trails, he remembered the Land of No Snow, the warm sunshine, the fragrant flowers and the beautiful trees laden with golden fruit.  But the one thing for which his loyal heart yearned most was the touch of a wrinkled hand on his head and the sound of the old poundmaster’s voice.  No one knew Jan’s thoughts, for he was always eager to do his work the best he knew how, and to teach the puppies to be proud of the privilege of helping people.

Brother Antoine had left the Hospice and gone down into the warmer climate of the Valley of the Rhone.  His work had been done bravely and unselfishly, and the monks had asked that he be sent to a place where sunshine and milder air would give him a chance to recover his strength and prolong his life.  Jan greatly missed this dear friend.