There were cold mornings when Prince Jan rose stiffly, for he had not been hardened to the trail work from puppy days as Rollo and the other dogs had been.  Five years of warm sunshine in the Land of No Snow had made Jan’s muscles soft and flabby and he felt the cold weather more than any of the other St. Bernards.  Then, too, his long hair made the work of the trails harder for him because the snow clung to his fur and when it melted and soaked to his skin, the monks watched carefully to keep him from becoming chilled.  Once or twice he had limped badly after coming in from his work, and then he had been rubbed and taken into the Big Room and allowed to stretch before the fireplace, and for a while he was not sent out with the other dogs.

One day during summer many of the dogs were given a chance to exercise outdoors.  Jan sat watching the youngsters tumble each other about, while he recalled the times when he and Rollo had played that way and old Bruno had sat watching them.  Then one of the pups began barking, and soon the others added their calls of welcome as a little party of travellers appeared in the opening of the mountain pass toward Martigny.  Jan, mindful of his responsibility, joined in the calls.  His deep, mellow tones sounded distinctly above the others, but he did not know that those on the trail had stopped while an old man, mounted on a mule, cried out, “Listen!  That is Jan!  I know his voice!”

A younger man and a young woman who were also mounted on mules, laughed happily, though the woman’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked at the old man.  Then they hurried on and soon were in plain sight of the steps that led into the Hospice.  In a few more minutes the mules stopped and the dogs crowded about to show how glad they were to have visitors.

The old man climbed down from his mule and turned to face the dogs.  He looked quickly from one to the other, until he found the one he sought.  Prince Jan started, his eyes lighted up suddenly, his head was lifted high, then with a yelp of joy the big dog leaped forward.

“Jan!  Jan!  You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” cried the old poundmaster, kneeling down and putting his arms about the shaggy neck, while the dog’s rough tongue licked the wrinkled hand, and little whimpers of delight told of Jan’s happiness.

The other dogs crowded around in excitement, wondering what it all meant, and the guide, with the lady and gentleman, now beside the old man, kept talking together and patting Jan’s head.  But he did not think of them as they moved to the door, for Jan’s only thought was to keep closely beside his dear old master whose hand rested on the furry head, and whose kindly, faded blue eyes were filled with tears of joy.  Jan’s eyes spoke his own happiness and love.

In the Big Room the monks received the old captain, whom they had not forgotten, and after the first greetings were over, they listened to the story of the poundmaster’s homesickness for Jan.  The lady, who was the captain’s daughter, explained that the mines in far-away Alaska had been sold for enough money to build a home in Southern California, where the captain lived with them.  But it had not taken her very long to learn how much her father wished to see Prince Jan once more.  So the little family had travelled back to Jan’s home in the Alps.