“Annie?” Jack croaked.
A man shouted, and the dogs backed off. The flaming torches shone directly on Jack. He could see that he’d been mostly dug out of the snow, but he still couldn’t feel or move his body.
Two of the hooded figures leaned down and tightly gripped Jack’s arms. They pulled him to his feet. When they let go of him, he started to fall. They grabbed him again and lifted him onto a cloth stretcher.
“My—my sister …,” Jack chattered. He managed to lift his head and look back. In the torchlight, he saw Annie lying on a stretcher, wrapped in a blanket.
“She is safe,” said one of the men.
“Who—who are you?” Jack asked, shivering uncontrollably. He had lost his hat and scarf in the snow.
“We are monks from the Saint Bernard Monastery,” the man answered. He covered Jack with a heavy blanket.
“Oh … thank you,” whispered Jack.
The three dogs led the way over the snowy pass, snorting and sneezing and panting. The monks followed, carrying Jack and Annie through the cold, windy dark.
When they reached the monastery, the monks lowered the two stretchers to the ground. They helped Jack and Annie to their feet and then led them up a short flight of steps to a big wooden door.
“You okay?” Jack asked Annie.
“Yes,” she said. “You?”
“Just cold,” Jack said, shivering.
One monk rang a large bell outside the door. Another handed Jack his leather bag. “We found this beside you,” the man said.
“Oh, thanks,” said Jack. He’d forgotten all about the bag.
Someone inside pulled open the door. Jack and Annie limped into a torchlit hallway with a vaulted ceiling and a wide staircase. The monks and three dogs followed.
The monks lifted their hoods, revealing friendly faces. For the first time, Jack got a good look at the huge, panting dogs. They were Saint Bernards with white and reddish-brown fur. They had powerful heads, square muzzles, and drooping jowls.
As the monks who had rescued Jack and Annie went down the hall with the dogs, two other monks stepped forward. They both wore dark robes and round black caps.
“Welcome,” one said in a deep, warm voice. He was a large man with a rugged face. “I am Father Laurent, the head of the monastery.”
“And I am Brother Michael,” said the other monk. He was not much taller than Jack, and his face was smooth and rosy.
“We’re Jack and Annie,” Jack said hoarsely. He still didn’t have his full voice.
“Thanks for saving us,” said Annie.
“We were happy to do so,” said Father Laurent. “You must come and sit by the fire in the parlor to warm yourselves and dry your clothes. Brother Michael will take you there while I ask our cook to warm some soup for you.”
“Thanks,” said Annie. “That sounds great.”
Jack nodded. He wanted to lie down, but at the same time he was hungry and cold.
“Come with me,” said Brother Michael. “Are you able to walk on your own?”
“Sure,” said Jack.
Jack and Annie could walk without help, but they both limped a little as they followed Brother Michael down the hall into the dimly lit parlor. The three Saint Bernards were resting in front of a huge fireplace. “Wow,” breathed Annie. The dogs barely looked up.
“Please, sit by the fire,” said Brother Michael.
Jack and Annie sat on wooden chairs and stared in a daze at the crackling fire. A moment later, Father Laurent came into the room and handed them bowls of steaming soup. The two monks waited as Jack and Annie drank the hot broth.
By the time they had emptied their bowls, Jack was feeling much better. The hot liquid had warmed his insides, and the heat from the fire had nearly dried his clothes.
“Thank you. I feel a lot better now,” Annie said to the two monks.
“You must stay here and rest for the night,” said Father Laurent. “You can continue your journey in the morning when you are rested.”
“Thank you,” said Jack.
The monk looked at them curiously. “You must be very brave to try to travel the pass in the dark,” he said.
“Or not very smart,” Annie said.
Father Laurent smiled. “Yes, but I did not want to say that,” he said.
“No kidding; we were looking for flowers!” said Annie.
“Goodness,” said Brother Michael. “I am afraid you’ve come to the wrong place to pick flowers.”
Both monks chuckled, and Annie laughed with them. Jack could barely smile—he was worried. I knew we came to the wrong place! he thought.
“Now tell me, why were you really traveling on the pass?” asked Father Laurent.
“Well … um … actually, we’re on a mission,” said Jack.
“Indeed?” said Brother Michael.
“Yes … we … um …,” Jack said.
“We’re on a mission to learn more about the Alps,” said Annie.
“That’s right,” said Jack. “We’re doing a report.”
“But you are very young,” said Brother Michael.
“We are young,” said Annie. “But we are serious researchers. In fact, we recently went to India and studied the Taj Mahal. It’s amazingly beautiful. Have you ever seen it?”
“Uh, no, we haven’t,” said Brother Michael. He seemed a little surprised, but Father Laurent only smiled.
Before either monk could say any more, Annie continued, “I have some questions right now about these mountain dogs. Jack, get out your notebook.”
Jack reached into his bag and took out his pencil and notebook.
“So,” Annie said in a serious voice, “exactly how did your dogs know that we needed help?”
“Well, the Saints always know if someone is trapped in the snow,” said Brother Michael.
“The Saints?” asked Jack.
The monk pointed to the dogs lying near the hearth. “Our Saint Bernard dogs,” he said. “We have fifteen of them. We call them simply the Saints. They were named after Saint Bernard, who founded the monastery.”
“Oh, right,” said Jack. “Saint Bernard of Menthon.” He pushed his glasses back and took notes:
“The Saints have saved over a thousand people from the White Death,” said Brother Michael.
“And the White Death is … what?” Jack asked, looking up.
“That is what we call blizzards and avalanches,” said Brother Michael. “You were directly in the path of a very small avalanche. They are quite common in the spring. When the snow begins to melt, it loses its grip on the mountainside and slides down.”
Jack wrote:
“You were lucky,” said Father Laurent. “Avalanche victims rarely survive if they are trapped for long in the snow. Even a very small avalanche can be deadly.”
“So there wasn’t much time for the Saints to find us and save us, was there?” said Annie.
“No,” said Father Laurent. “But they need no compass. Once they hear the voice of the snow, as we call it, their noses lead them in the right direction. They can find their way to a person buried six feet down.”
“Oh, man,” Jack murmured, and wrote:
“Wow, they’re amazing,” said Annie. Everyone looked at the dogs. “Thank you, Saints, for saving our lives,” Annie said to them.
The gentle giants didn’t seem to care about being heroes. One scratched his ear, another yawned, and the third one snored.
Father Laurent laughed at the dogs. “Well, Jack and Annie. I imagine you would like to sleep now,” he said.
Jack closed his notebook and nodded.
“We’re pretty tired,” said Annie.
“Come. I will take you to your room,” Brother Michael said.
“Good night, Jack and Annie,” said Father Laurent. “And farewell, for I will not be seeing you in the morning. I am setting out first thing to help the French army.”
What does that mean? wondered Jack.
“Thanks for everything,” said Annie.
&
nbsp; “Of course,” said Father Laurent. “I am glad you are safe now. No one should ever be caught on these mountains in the dead of night.”
Jack and Annie followed Brother Michael out of the parlor. The monk carried two lanterns and chatted while he led them down a chilly hall.
“This monastery was built on the highest part of the pass almost eight hundred years ago,” Brother Michael said. “We have a dog kennel and a chapel, as well as a library filled with books and exhibits of rocks, minerals, and butterflies. Father Laurent is quite well known for his research and his nature expeditions.”
“That’s cool,” murmured Jack. But he was too worried about their mission to say any more. How will we ever find a flower here? he wondered again.
Brother Michael opened a door to a small room. “We have many rooms for travelers,” he said. “But tonight you are our only visitors.”
The monk placed a lantern on a table between two small beds. “I hope you will sleep well,” he said. “And if you have more questions, I will be glad to answer them tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Good night,” said Annie.
“Good night,” said Brother Michael, and he left the room and closed the door.
Jack and Annie sat on their beds. The lantern light was casting shadows on the white walls of the small room. The wind rattled the windowpanes.
“I’m so glad to be here,” Annie said, sighing, “and not lost outside in the dead of night.” She lay back and covered herself with a brown woolen blanket.
“No kidding,” said Jack. “But it still makes no sense that Teddy and Kathleen sent us here.”
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” said Annie.
Jack reached into his bag and took out the small scroll. He unrolled it and read aloud by the lantern light:
The second thing to break the spell
is a white and yellow flower.
Live its meaning for yourself,
if only for an hour.
“It’s a mystery,” said Jack. “No flower can live in a cold, snowy place like this. And live its meaning? What’s that about? And why just an hour?”
“I don’t know,” murmured Annie. She closed her eyes and yawned. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Yeah, very,” said Jack. “But I’m also worried about our mission.” He put the scroll back into his bag and pulled out their research book.
Jack flipped through it until he came to a section with photos of plants and animals. He read the chapter title aloud: “Flora and Fauna of the Alps.” He looked at Annie. “Flora and fauna means plants and animals. Did you know that?”
Annie didn’t open her eyes or say anything.
“Are you asleep?” asked Jack.
“Yes,” said Annie. “You should go to sleep, too. You can read all this stuff in the morning.”
“But nothing makes sense,” said Jack. “I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“Try,” said Annie.
Jack sighed. He closed the research book and placed it on the floor. Then he blew out the lantern flame and pulled up his wool blanket.
Jack kept his eyes open, but he couldn’t see a thing. The room was pitch-black. From somewhere in the monastery came soft, beautiful singing. Two or three Saints barked. The panes of their window rattled as the wind moaned outside.
“We forgot to ask what year it is,” said Jack. “It’s hard to tell, don’t you think?”
“Shhh,” whispered Annie.
“But it feels timeless here,” Jack went on. “Everything could be in a time long ago or in our time: sun, snow, mountains, monks, soup, singing … wind … wool … night …” Jack closed his eyes.
“And dogs …,” murmured Annie.
“Dogs …,” Jack repeated in a whisper.
And he fell asleep.
Jack opened his eyes. Cold gray light came through a paned window. Where am I? he wondered. He sat up, put his glasses on, and looked around the white-walled room. Annie was still asleep.
Oh, yeah, the monastery, Jack thought. “Hey, Annie,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
“Where are we?” Annie asked, opening her eyes.
“In the Swiss Alps,” said Jack.
“We are? Why?” Annie asked groggily.
“Good question,” said Jack. “Let’s read about flora and fauna of the Alps and figure it out.”
Jack reached for the book on the floor. Just as he grabbed it, the door banged open, and a Saint Bernard dog burst into the room. The dog flung himself onto Jack’s bed.
“Ahhh!” Jack yelled.
“Whoa!” cried Annie.
The giant dog plopped down on top of Jack and panted, HEH-HEH-HEH! His head was as big as a basketball. His breath smelled like fish and crackers. His fur smelled like wet wool.
“Okay, get off, please!” said Jack. He tried to push the dog off, but the dog just wrinkled his brow and looked curiously into Jack’s eyes. Drool hung from his long jowls.
“Eww! Annie, help!” said Jack.
“Hey, you!” Annie called to the huge, panting dog. “Come to me!”
The Saint Bernard jumped off Jack and bounded onto Annie’s bed with the same joy and energy. Annie couldn’t stop giggling as the dog licked her face.
“Barry!” said Brother Michael. He stood in the doorway.
Ignoring the monk, the dog nuzzled Annie with his giant head. “Stop! Stop!” she said, laughing.
“Barry! Off!” the monk said.
“Barry!” said Jack, trying to help.
The dog looked over at Jack. Then he leapt off Annie’s bed.
“Oh, no!” cried Jack. “Don’t come back to me!” He covered his head with his blanket.
But it was too late. Barry jumped back onto Jack’s bed and started pawing at the blanket, trying to dig Jack out from underneath.
“Barry, come!” commanded Brother Michael. “Now!”
Finally the Saint Bernard leapt off Jack’s bed and bounded into the hallway.
Brother Michael quickly closed the door behind the rowdy giant. “Well! Now you’ve met Barry!” he said.
Out in the hallway, Barry whined and pawed at the door, begging to come back into the room.
“Oh, poor puppy,” said Annie.
“Barry may be young,” said Brother Michael. “But he is a two-hundred-pound dog who needs to grow up.”
“Aww,” said Annie. She laughed tenderly at the mournful sounds Barry was making.
“Perhaps you do not realize this,” said Brother Michael, “but it is past noon. You have both been asleep for many hours.”
“Really? Oh, man!” said Jack. He jumped off the bed and grabbed his shoes and put them on. He couldn’t believe they’d wasted so much time!
“We are just completing our noontime meal in the dining hall before we hike down the pass,” said Brother Michael. “Thousands of French soldiers will be crossing soon on their way to Italy. Father Laurent left to assist the first troops. I thought perhaps you would like to eat something before the rest of us leave to help.”
“Uh—sure, thanks,” said Jack.
“I will wait for you in the dining hall next to the parlor,” said the monk.
When Brother Michael slipped out the door, Barry greeted him with a happy yelp. Then the giant dog’s barking faded down the hallway.
“Come on, hurry,” said Annie, pulling on her shoes.
“But we have to look in our book,” said Jack, “and try to figure out—”
“Let’s look after we talk to Brother Michael,” said Annie. “He’s leaving soon. And I have a feeling that he—or someone else here—is going to help us.”
“Let’s hope,” said Jack.
Still sore from the avalanche, Jack limped a little as he followed Annie out of their room. They passed all the closed doors lining the long torch-lit hallway, until finally they came to the parlor. From the dining hall, they could hear the clinking of silverware and china, but no voices.
Jack and Annie peered into the room and saw about forty monks sittin
g on benches on either side of a long table. Brother Michael waved from one end. The other monks didn’t even look up. They all kept their heads bowed as they silently finished eating their noontime meal.
Jack and Annie crossed the dining hall, weaving among a dozen Saint Bernards resting with their heads on their paws. None of them had Barry’s crazy energy.
Jack and Annie sat at the end of a bench across from Brother Michael. One of the other monks served them bread and butter, bowls of porridge, and cups of hot tea.
Jack took a sip of the milky, sweet tea. Then he leaned across the table to Brother Michael. “Excuse me,” he whispered, “but is there another place in these mountains—a place not too far from here—where we might find flowers?”
Brother Michael looked thoughtful. Then he shook his head. “Certainly not now. It has been a very cold spring. But a month from now, at a lower altitude, you will definitely find flowers.”
“Not until a month from now?” said Jack.
“I am afraid not,” said Brother Michael. He smiled curiously at Jack. “You must love flowers very much.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain that they had to find a white and yellow flower and live its meaning for an hour to help break a spell to save Merlin’s penguin, who’d been turned to stone by a young sorcerer in Camelot?
“Um … yes, I do like them,” said Jack.
“Perhaps you could go on a climbing trip with Father Laurent if you come back this way in the summer,” said Brother Michael. “He also loves plants and flowers and is an expert on the flora of the Alps.”
Jack nodded. He picked up a chunk of bread and took a small bite. That would be great, he thought, except we can’t wait! His only hope was that their research book could help them somehow.
By now, all the monks were getting up from the table. The Saints quietly followed them out of the dining hall. As Jack ate his bread and watched everyone leave, Barry bounded out of the kitchen. He grabbed the last bite of bread right out of Jack’s hand and gulped it down!
“Hey!” said Jack.
Annie burst out laughing. “Barry! You thief!” she cried.
Mary Pope Osborne - Magic Tree House 46 Page 2
