8: A FREE DAY
It had not been easy to coax Caesar inside, even into a stable, butFranz had succeeded both in getting him in and in persuading the bigAlpine Mastiff to sleep at his feet. Now, as the wind screamed throughSt. Bernard Pass and the frost cut like a sharp knife, Franz grinned tohimself.
He understood that the three other _maronniers_ at the Hospice; thenovices, or apprentice priests; the Aumonier, who welcomed guests anddispensed charity; the Clavandier, who watched over all stores; theSacristan, whose duty it was to take charge of the Chapel; the Abbe, whowatched over the novices; the four Canons, whose authority was exceededonly by that of the Prior, and even the great Prior himself, slept inunheated cells.
He was not positive about this because anyone as lowly as he could neverbe sure about the doings of people as mighty as they. For all he knew,the Hospice would collapse if he spoke to any of the Canons, and themountains themselves would tumble if he even looked at the Prior. But hethought it was true.
If it was, then he, Franz Halle, the humblest of the humble_maronniers_, had by far the finest sleeping quarters in Great St.Bernard Pass. With fragrant hay as a mattress, plenty of blankets, a dogto keep his feet warm, and the four gentle cows of the Hospice to addtheir warmth to the stable, let the wind scream as it would and thefrost crackle as it might. He would never care.
Caesar shifted his position at Franz's feet, to bring his head nearerthe boy's right hand. Franz took his hand from beneath the blankets totickle Caesar's ears, and a worried frown creased his forehead.
Besides Caesar, he had two firm friends at the Hospice, Father Benjaminand Anton Martek. The other two _maronniers_ were surly individuals whokept much to themselves. Franz did not even know their names. Thenovices, boys about Franz's own age, were much too busy with their ownduties to have any time for a mere _maronnier_. Naturally it wasunthinkable, aside from attending devotions, to intrude on the world ofthe priests. Father Benjamin, who came to the stable at regularintervals, had made a real effort to strengthen a friendship that beganwhen he and Franz came up the path together.
Anton Martek worried Franz, and the dawn to dark work Anton demanded hadno bearing on it, for the boy did not mind working long hours. But therewas Caesar, too. The mastiff had worked willingly beside his masterwhile they freighted hay or wood from the lower reaches or carriedsupplies from the inn at Cantine. But winter was fast approaching, andwhen it came, there would be almost no packing for Caesar, andeverything that lived at the Hospice must necessarily earn its own way.
Since there was little else, Anton and Franz had tried their valiantbest to make a spit dog of Caesar. But the great animal, who did so manythings so well, seemed wholly unable to adjust to what he doubtlessconsidered the low comedy of turning a spit. On the first trial, hewhirled in his tracks and snatched at and ate the roast he was supposedto be turning. When Anton fashioned a harness that made it impossiblefor him to turn, Caesar's nearness to the fire, with its unaccustomedwarmth, made him so uncomfortable that he simply lay down and refused tomove at all.
A longer pole that put him farther away from the fire offended hisdignity. Rather than pace slowly, so that the meat would turn slowly androast evenly on all sides, he whirled at such speed that it was a marvelthe roast stayed on the spit. Weights on his paws, designed to slow himdown, aroused his stubbornness. Rather than turn the spit at all, hepulled it completely apart and let the roast fall into the fire.
Shouting threats accomplished nothing. Caesar knew his own strength and,providing it was consistent with his dignity, he would work because heloved Franz. He would not be bullied. Rewards in the shape of meatdangled enticingly before him were haughtily rejected. Caesar would notbe bribed, either.
The stubborn Anton had not abandoned hope and was still determined tomake a spit dog of Caesar, but, in the darkness, Franz's worried frowndeepened. The mastiff was equally determined that he would not turn thespit, therefore, not even Anton could make him do it.
An anguished little moan escaped Franz. If Caesar were declared uselessand banished from the mountain, life in St. Bernard Pass, that hadbecome so very fine, would be so very bleak. A second time Franz reachedout to ruffle the big mastiff's ears.
"Try!" he whispered fiercely. "Try hard, Caesar!"
The dog licked his hand. Thus comforted, his body cushioned by soft hay,warmed by blankets and Caesar, and with the cattle adding their warmthto the stable, Franz never heard the wind scream and never thought ofthe frost.
He was awakened by Anton Martek, who lighted his way into the stablewith a glass-shielded candle. Caesar rose and wagged his tail to greetthis new friend whom he had come to like so well, and Franz sat sleepilyup in bed. Anton hung his candle-lantern on a wooden peg.
"It is time to be up," he scoffed good-naturedly. "The day is forworking."
"It is not day yet," Franz protested.
Anton said, "Soon it will be."
Anton, who was entirely willing to let Franz clean the stable as long ashe kept it spotless, but who never permitted anyone except himself tohandle the cows or their products, began to groom his charges. He alwaysfollowed the same procedure. After the cows were clean as comb and brushcould make them, he would wash their udders with warm water. Then hewould milk, care for the milk and clean the cows all over again.
Franz impulsively asked a question that had long tickled his curiosity,but that he had never dared ask before. "Why do you stay here, Anton?"
The huge man turned toward him, comb in one hand and brush in the other,and for a moment his eyes were so terrible that Franz shrank beforethem. The eyes softened the merest trifle.
"Why do you ask that?" Anton asked quietly.
"I--I've just wondered, and I--I'm sorry if I offended you," Franzstammered.
Anton said, "You meant well and I will tell you. At one time, I lived inMartigny, where I was famous for my strength. There was another man whowas neither bad nor good. He was much like the jay that always chattersbut seldom says anything worth the listening, and he was given to spasmsof rage. I saw him strike a child, a little boy, who should not havebeen taunting him but was. I told the man that he must never againstrike a child. The man struck at me and--"
Anton's voice trailed off into a husky whisper. He stared for a momentat the far wall of the stable, then continued, "I struck back and--Ikilled him. I never meant to kill, and I knew I did not, for it is aterrible thing to take the life of a fellow human. But the only otherswho knew I never intended to kill were the Fathers at the Hospice. Theygave me refuge. They cared for my body as well as my spirit. Theyrestored my faith in God and in man. They made a man from what had beena beast. That is why I am happy to serve them and why I shall neverleave this place!"
"I understand!" Franz exclaimed. "And I don't believe you ever intendedto kill either!"
"Thank you, little Franz." Anton's rare smile flashed. "Now, if you willget your breakfast, I will care for my babies here."
Caesar at his heels, Franz left the stable and made his way to thekitchen. Caesar sat down outside the door. Paul Maurat, the surly_maronnier_ who presided over the kitchen, kept his domain as spotlessas Anton insisted the stable be kept. Certainly, he would never dream ofletting a dog invade his kingdom.
A tall, string-thin and apparently ageless man, he motioned Franz to achair, served him barley gruel, black bread, cheese, and milk andapparently forgot all about him. Franz finished his meal and wentoutside, where he was rejoined by Caesar, and the pair returned to thestable.
"Back so soon?" Anton asked. "Would Paul not feed you?"
"He fed me very well," Franz declared, "but I have been thinking."
"And what has occupied your thoughts?" Anton asked.
"A very great man I knew in Dornblatt," Franz answered. "His name isProfessor Luttman, and he is a teacher, and it is in no way his faultbecause I am too stupid to grasp what he tried to teach."
"Not everyone may understand the wisdom that is written in books," Antonsaid.
"That I k
now," agreed Franz. "But I cannot escape a feeling that Ibetrayed Professor Luttman. I am sure he knows I am just a _maronnier_at St. Bernard Hospice. Father Paul, the village priest who acted on mybehalf in order that I might come here, would have told him. I am alsosure that, on the day he expelled me from his school, he knew I wouldalways hold a humble station."
"He is a wise man?" Anton questioned.
"Very wise," Franz replied.
"The wise do not have to be told that the world is made up of the humbleand the mighty," Anton said. "They know that much from their own wisdom.Think no more about it."
"I cannot help thinking about it," Franz said in a troubled voice. "Iwould like to prove to Professor Luttman that a _maronnier's_ is a goodlife. Since I cannot, are you ready to have me start cleaning thestable?"
"Today I clean the stable," Anton said. "It is not that you have failedto do it very well, but you have worked hard and long. This shall be afree day for you and Caesar."
"Oh, Anton!"
"Go along now." Anton's smile was pleased.
Caesar at his heels, Franz again left the stable. He braced himselfagainst the wind as soon as he was outside and paused to consider. Itwas fine to have a free day, but in St. Bernard Pass, exactly what didone do with it? The surrounding peaks invited him. But though the onlyevidence of foul weather to be lay in an overcast sky, Franz had anuneasy premonition that something besides an ordinary storm was inprospect. It would never do to be caught on a mountainside while such astorm raged.
Just then Father Benjamin came around a corner of the refectory. "Hello,young Franz!"
"Father Benjamin!" Franz cried happily, then added, "Anton has given methe day to spend as I wish."
"How very fine!" said Father Benjamin. "I am on my way to the inn atCantine. It isn't really necessary, since there seems to be littlelikelihood of snow, but any travelers who await there may feel easier ifthey have a guide. Do you want to come along?"
Father Benjamin, Franz and Caesar made their way down the rocky path andfound four people waiting to cross the mountain. They were an elderlyman, his middle-aged daughter, a boy about Franz's age and a girl notyet in her teens.
Father Benjamin spoke reassuringly to them. "There is nothing to fear.We will guide you to the Hospice, and after you have rested there, youwill be guided to the rest house on the opposite slope."
As they all started up the slope, Franz's uneasiness grew. The wind sanga song of trouble. He comforted himself with the thought that FatherBenjamin was better able than he to judge what might happen.
They were halfway between the inn and the Hospice when a sudden,blinding blizzard swept down upon them.
Rescue Dog of the High Pass Page 13
