Rescue Dog of the High Pass Part 8

"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 is Professor Luttman, and he is a teacher, and it is in no way his fault because I am too stupid to grasp what he tried to teach."

"Not everyone may understand the wisdom that is written in books," Anton said.

"That I know," agreed Franz. "But I cannot escape a feeling that I betrayed Professor Luttman. I am sure he knows I am just a _maronnier_ at St. Bernard Hospice. Father Paul, the village priest who acted on my behalf in order that I might come here, would have told him. I am also sure that, on the day he expelled me from his school, he knew I would always 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 humble and 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. "I would like to prove to Professor Luttman that a _maronnier's_ is a good life. Since I cannot, are you ready to have me start cleaning the stable?"

"Today I clean the stable," Anton said. "It is not that you have failed to do it very well, but you have worked hard and long. This shall be a free 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 himself against the wind as soon as he was outside and paused to consider. It was fine to have a free day, but in St. Bernard Pa.s.s, exactly what did one do with it? The surrounding peaks invited him. But though the only evidence of foul weather to be lay in an overcast sky, Franz had an uneasy premonition that something besides an ordinary storm was in prospect. It would never do to be caught on a mountainside while such a storm raged.

Just then Father Benjamin came around a corner of the refectory. "h.e.l.lo, young Franz!"

"Father Benjamin!" Franz cried happily, then added, "Anton has given me the day to spend as I wish."

"How very fine!" said Father Benjamin. "I am on my way to the inn at Cantine. It isn't really necessary, since there seems to be little likelihood of snow, but any travelers who await there may feel easier if they have a guide. Do you want to come along?"

Father Benjamin, Franz and Caesar made their way down the rocky path and found four people waiting to cross the mountain. They were an elderly man, his middle-aged daughter, a boy about Franz's age and a girl not yet in her teens.

Father Benjamin spoke rea.s.suringly to them. "There is nothing to fear.

We will guide you to the Hospice, and after you have rested there, you will be guided to the rest house on the opposite slope."

As they all started up the slope, Franz's uneasiness grew. The wind sang a song of trouble. He comforted himself with the thought that Father Benjamin 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.

9: THE BLIZZARD

The girl and the boy drew a little nearer to Father Benjamin. Their faith showed in their eyes, as though nothing ill could befall them while they were under the guardianship of a priest from the Hospice. The Augustinian, their actions said, might even halt the blizzard by raising his hand and commanding it to stop.

But the elderly man, who had spent his life in the mountains and knew the real danger of such storms, cried out in fear. His fright communicated itself to the woman ... and spread from her to the boy and girl, who would not have been afraid at all had they not seen for themselves that their elders were frightened.

Father Benjamin took instant, firm command.

"Have you never before seen snow fall?" he thundered. "Be quiet and act sensibly!"

"Yes, Holy Father," the elderly man said humbly.

Father Benjamin turned to Franz. "I will guide. You bring up the rear with Caesar."

Franz fought to keep his voice from trembling as he replied, "Yes, Father Benjamin."

He let the others pa.s.s and fell in behind. He knew that Father Benjamin wanted him there to keep the little group from straying or straggling, and he was proud to be trusted with such responsibility. At the same time, he was more than a little afraid.

The winter snows in Dornblatt had been fierce enough; often it was impossible to see the house next to that in which one lived. But the snows of Dornblatt had remained within the scope of human understanding, and humans had always been able to cope with the worst of them.

This was a wild beast uncaged, a snarling, raging thing that had burst the bonds of control the instant it began. With the blizzard only minutes old, already they were walking in snow that came halfway to the tops of their shoes. Though each person stayed as close as possible to the one in front of him, Franz could barely make out the form of Father Benjamin, who was leading the way.

He had a sudden, terrifying thought that they were just mites, specks of dust in an inferno of snow. The mad wind would whirl them away as it whirled the snowflakes. When the wind finally lulled and dropped them somewhere in the immensity of the Alps, they would still be as nothing, for a human being is small indeed compared with a mountain.

Resolutely Franz put such fears behind him. Man's body, and that alone, had never conquered the Alps or anything else. Man's spirit was the true conqueror, and spirit would see them safely through this blizzard. The thought gave back to him his old serenity and calmness.

The girl, walking in front of him, slipped and almost went down. Franz caught her elbow and helped her regain her balance.

"Careful, little sister!" he shouted, to make himself heard above the wind. "The snow is a cold bed!"

She turned and gave him a grateful smile, and Franz knew that his recovered confidence had imparted itself to her. They hurried to catch up with the others, who had gained a few feet. Franz looked questioningly at Father Benjamin.

Fortunately, the wind was blowing up the mountain, so that they did not have to fight it. But cross currents and gusty little side eddies blew the snow in every imaginable direction. There was no landmark whatever; even the peaks were hidden. Franz, who had been this way many times, knew that he himself hadn't the faintest notion as to whether or not they were on the path. Did Father Benjamin know?

Again he put the thought behind him. Regardless of anything else, Father Benjamin must _act_ as though he knew. Just as he had exploded the travelers' fears with the thunder of his words when the blizzard began, so he must now inspire them with confidence by showing confidence himself. To do otherwise meant panic, and panic meant that all were lost.

Father Benjamin plowed through a knee-deep drift and halted. The others grouped around him.

"We will have a short rest." Even though the Augustinian had to shout, he seemed as serene and unruffled as though he were addressing some of his fellow priests at the Hospice. "This is the first snow and we may very well get along without skis. But it is foolish to exhaust ourselves."

"_Salvezza!_" the old man moaned. "Salvation! Or shall we find any?"

The woman said, but with no great conviction, "This good Father will lead us safely to the Hospice."

"He cannot!" a.s.serted the old man.

The young girl said, half-contemptuously, "You have no faith."

Father Benjamin spoke kindly to the frightened old man. "Be of good cheer, Grandfather, for in a short time we will be at the Hospice. After you have rested, go to the Chapel and give thanks to our good Saint Bernard, who founded the Hospice so that travelers such as you might live."

"I, too, shall give thanks to Saint Bernard," the girl declared confidently.