13: CAESAR'S FEAT
There was a wind, but it was not the roaring blast that so frequentlysnarled through St. Bernard Pass and it had not tumbled the snow aboutenough to cover the ski trail left by Father Benjamin and Jean Greb. Itwas a safe path, for two men had already traveled it in safety. Ratherthan having to choose carefully a slow and uncertain way, the four couldnow move swiftly.
Followed only by Caesar, who found the going easy on a path packed by somany skis, Franz stayed just far enough behind Anton Martek to avoidrunning up on the toboggan the giant pulled. Father Benjamin led theway, followed by Father Mark. There were ropes and shovels on thetoboggan.
Franz tried to swallow his heart that insisted on beating in his throat,rather than in his chest. An avalanche was as unpredictable as thechatter of a jay. For all his vast experience in the mountains, JeanGreb had not known this one was coming until it overwhelmed both himselfand Professor Luttman. No one could ever be sure.
Franz tried to reassure himself by thinking of the three men ahead ofhim. All were not only men of the mountains in general, but of St.Bernard Pass in particular. There was no situation that could arise inthe Pass which they had not met before and with which they would notknow how to cope, Franz told himself. They were very sure of findingProfessor Luttman.
But in his own heart, Franz knew how very wrong he could be.
An avalanche was a freakish thing. When tons, and millions of tons, ofsnow thundered down a slope, it was somewhat comparable to a treacherousriver. There were currents that surged toward the top and those thatbored toward the bottom. Even though Jean Greb had been cast out on top,Professor Luttman might be lying at the bottom. For all their abilityto work miracles, the men of St. Bernard Hospice would never reach himalive if he were. They would never even find him.
Franz tried to banish such gloomy forebodings from his mind and mighthave succeeded had not one thought persisted. If Father Benjaminbelieved there was a good chance of finding Professor Luttman, he wouldhave made Jean Greb as comfortable as possible and tried to find him.And in the refectory, while Jean lay unconscious, Father Benjaminhimself had said that there was no hope.
Franz thrust a hand behind him and felt a little relieved when Caesarcame up to sniff it. He was by no means sure that Caesar could findProfessor Luttman, but he was positive that they stood a far betterchance with the big mastiff than they ever would without him. He triedto picture in his imagination all the places where the avalanche mighthave occurred--and gasped with dismay when they finally found it!
The prevailing west wind funneled through a broad gulley. On the east,the gulley was bounded by a gentle slope. But on the west, the sloperose sheer for almost half its height before giving way to an easy rise.The wind had plastered snow against the steep portion. More snow, eitherwind-borne or falling, had gathered upon it to a depth of twenty feetor more.
It was a much greater burden than the slope should have held. Withalmost a perpendicular wall, and not a single tree or bush to hold itback, a whisper might set it off and send snow roaring into the gulley.It was a death trap that any experienced mountaineer would recognize ata glance.
Jean Greb, seeing the peril, had chosen to climb above the steep portionon the west slope, rather than veer to the east. It was a choice anymountaineer might have made. But something, possibly the light ski treadof Jean Greb and Professor Luttman, had started the snow on the steepwall rolling. This, in turn, had set off an avalanche on the gentleslope and all of it had poured into the gulley.
In the center of the gulley, snow lay a hundred feet deep. On the northend, where the cleavage between the snow that had rolled and that whichhad not rolled was almost as sharp as though some colossus had cut itwith a knife, there was a near-perpendicular drop that varied betweensixty and ninety feet in height. The tremendous force of the avalanchehad packed the snow to icy hardness.
Father Benjamin halted, waved his arm and said, "I found your friendhere, Franz. He was trying to dig into the snow."
Franz stared with unbelieving eyes at the faint scars in the immensepile of snow. They could have been made only by a ski pole, but a skipole was the only tool Jean had. Franz knew suddenly that FatherBenjamin had been entirely right in bringing Jean to the Hospice. Ahundred men with a hundred shovels could not move that mass of snow in ahundred years. It was better to save the man who could be saved than tolet him senselessly risk his life for the man who could not.
"You found him here?" Anton Martek asked.
Father Benjamin answered, "This is where the avalanche cast him up.Since he and his companion were traveling very close together, he issure that his friend cannot be far from this place."
Anton said, "I know of nothing we may do except dig here."
"Nor I," said Father Mark.
Father Benjamin said, "If I had a better idea, I would surely make itknown. Let us dig, and let us have faith as we do so."
The boy seized a shovel and began to dig, along with Anton and the twopriests. He shook his head in disbelief for, even though he used allhis strength, his shovel took only a tiny bite of the hard-packed snow.Despite the cold wind that snapped up the gulley like an angry wolf,beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead....
Franz thought that an hour might have passed when, while the other threecontinued to dig, he had to stop and rest. For the first time, itoccurred to him to look about for Caesar.
The big dog was at the north end of the avalanche, peering over theperpendicular wall. He trotted anxiously back and forth, then leanedover to rest his front paws on a ledge. Suddenly Franz remembered whenCaesar had found Emil Gottschalk buried in the snow.
Anton Martek and the two priests remained too busy to notice the boy'sdeparture when he made his way to Caesar's side. The great mastiffwagged his tail furiously and stared down the wall of snow.
"Is he there?" Franz whispered. "Is he there, Caesar?"
The dog took three paces forward and three back. He whined, leaned overagain to rest his front paws on the ledge, then withdrew to his master'sside. Franz studied the awful wall that suddenly seemed a thousand feethigh, and where a mistake in judgment or a misstep meant possible deathand certain injury.
_Suddenly Franz remembered when Caesar had found EmilGottschalk buried in the snow_]
But Caesar would not stop staring down it, and only three feet below wasthe ledge where he had rested his paws. Franz stepped down, widened theledge with his shovel and reached behind him to help the dog down. Hesought the next ledge that he might dig out with his shovel.
They were halfway down the wall when the boy heard a thunderous, "Franz!Franz! Come back!"
He recognized Father Benjamin's voice but he dared not look back, foreven a fairy could not have found more standing room on the thin ledgewhere the boy and his dog stood. Franz reached down with his shovel toscoop out the next ledge.
After what seemed an eternity, they were at the bottom of the wall.
Caesar ran forward and began to dig in the snow. Scraping beside him,presently Franz found the limp arm of a man.
Cold as the arm was, he could still feel the pulse that beat within it.
14: THE MESSAGE
The fire in the refectory's great fireplace roared. The Prior, theCanons, the Sacristan, and everyone else who lived at the Hospice of St.Bernard and did not have to be away on some urgent business, weregathered around it.
Jean Greb, who felt well enough to sit up by now, occupied a chair infront of the fire. Shaken and thoroughly chilled, but not seriouslyinjured, Professor Luttman lay on Jean's pallet.
The Prior said, "Let us have the dog brought forth. Even though hecannot understand it, he should hear the message."
All eyes turned to Franz, beside whom Caesar had been sitting onlyrecently. The boy looked toward the door.
Caesar, who had accepted the stable but found the refectory much toohot, was waiting just inside the door. His jaws were spread and histongue lolled. He wagged his tail at Franz and whined, obviously aninvitat
ion for his master to open the door and let him out into thecomfortable snow.
"He finds the fire much too hot." The boy spoke with a free tongue froma happy heart. He wondered now why he had ever been overawed by thePrior or anyone else at the Hospice. Beneath their somber habits beatvery warm and wonderful hearts. If it were any other way, they would notbe here. Franz finished, "He wants me to let him out."
"A true dog of the high pass," the Prior said. "Very well, Franz. Youmay let him out."
The boy walked to the door, opened it, and Caesar trotted outgratefully. He began to roll in the snow. Franz returned to his place.
The Prior said, "All of us know of the miracle, a miracle wrought by ayoung _maronnier_ and his dog. Now we shall hear the message ProfessorLuttman carries."
"I have imparted the message to you," Professor Luttman protested. "Youare the proper person to tell Franz."
"Not I!" The Prior laughed. "I am merely an onlooker here, and I mustsay that, for once, I thoroughly enjoy the spectator's role. Proceed,Professor Luttman."
"Very well." The Professor turned to Franz. "Do you know what I reallythought the day I expelled you from my school?"
"You thought I was too stupid to learn," Franz replied.
"No such thing!" Professor Luttman denied. "I thought, 'There goes anAlpinist, one who can never discover in my beloved books any of theinspiration that he finds in his beloved mountains. It is truly unjustto keep him in school when he does not belong here.' I thought alsothat, one day, you would make your mark in the world."
"I am just a _maronnier_ at St. Bernard Hospice," Franz protested.
"And how grateful I am because you are 'just a _maronnier_,'" ProfessorLuttman said. "Were you not, I would have died in the snow."
"They would have found you," Franz insisted.
"We would not!" Anton Martek spoke up. "We would have continued diggingwhere we thought he was. It never occurred to any of us that he might bethree hundred feet away and down the wall of snow."
"That is true," Father Benjamin agreed.
"Very true," said Father Mark.
"So I am alive today because of you and Caesar," Professor Luttmancontinued. "Emil Gottschalk lives for the same reason. He wanted to giveyou--" Professor Luttman named a greater sum of money than the boy hadever thought existed.
"I would not accept his money," Franz asserted firmly.
Professor Luttman said, "So I told him, so your father told him, too,but both of us agreed that the Hospice of St. Bernard might well use it.Now the Prior and I have talked, and the Prior declares that you shalldecide how that money may be spent."
Franz murmured, "I would like enough to keep Caesar in food, so that hewill not be sent away from the Hospice."
The Prior laughed. "If there was any danger of Caesar being sentaway--and there isn't the slightest--there is enough money to feed himfor the next hundred years and a vast sum besides."
Franz looked appealingly at the Prior. "I am not worthy to spend a sumso huge!"
"You must," the Prior told him. "No one else can."
Franz turned his troubled eyes to the floor. After a moment, he lookedup.
"There is only one thing I would do," he said finally. "I would go downinto the villages, the mountain villages where people and animals alikemust learn the arts of the snow. I would buy more Alpine Mastiffs, dogssuch as Caesar, and bring them to the Hospice. I am sure you may findsomeone with sufficient skill to train them properly."
"And I am equally sure we already have someone," the Prior declared."His name is Franz Halle. This is a day of great joy for all of us.Think of the lives that would have been lost but will be saved after wehave these--
"These dogs of St. Bernard."
JIM KJELGAARD was born in New York City. Happily enough, he was still inthe pre-school age when his father decided to move the family to thePennsylvania mountains. There young Jim grew up among some of the besthunting and fishing in the United States. He says: "If I had pursued myscholastic duties as diligently as I did deer, trout, grouse, squirrels,etc., I might have had better report cards!"
Jim Kjelgaard has worked at various jobs--trapper, teamster, guide,surveyor, factory worker and laborer. When he was in his late twentieshe decided to become a full-time writer. No sooner decided than done! Hehas published several hundred short stories and articles and quite a fewbooks for young people and adults.
His hobbies are hunting, fishing, dogs and questing for new stories. Hetells us: "Story hunts have led me from the Atlantic to the Pacific andfrom the Arctic Circle to Mexico City. Stories, like gold, are where youfind them. You may discover one three thousand miles from home or, as in_The Spell of the White Sturgeon_, (winner of the Boys' Life--Dodd,Mead Prize Competition) right on your own door step." And he adds: "I ammarried to a very beautiful girl and have a teen-age daughter. Both ofthem order me around in a shameful fashion, but I can still boss thedog! We live in Phoenix, Arizona."
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