Since we have been covering the Iditarod for so long, the Junior Dispatch specializes in Iditarod-style fun, just take a look:
TUNDRA: This comic strip hosted by the Junior Dispatch mostly focuses on the antics of arctic animals. You can read it every day here.
PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD: This feature tells the story of a dog and his travels from St. Bernard Pass and back again. Along the way, he meets plenty of interesting friends. Read the chapter story here.
PICTURES & BOOKS: Looking for good book about Alaska? A librarian helped us discover five of the best for kids like you. Get the details here.
LITTLE WHITE FOX & HIS ARCTIC FRIENDS: This feature contains multiple short stories about an arctic fox living in Alaska as he searches for food, gets in trouble and has quite a bit of fun. Find his adventures here.
MORE DOGS: While Belevedere isn’t likely to be running in the Iditarod any time soon, the fiesty little pooch is with them in spirit. Read the comic strip here!
This post was created to serve as the hub of all things related to our “Prince Jan: St. Bernard” reading project and its additional dog-themed Junior Dispatch items. It was originally presented to Junior Dispatch readers in March 2010. Each chapter features a video, vocabulary words and an essay question.
WHAT’S IT ABOUT?
“Prince Jan: St. Bernard” is a book by Forrestine C. Hooker and tells the story of a young St. Bernard pup that is brought from Europe to America. His life there starts out nice enough, but things soon go bad for him. Find out if he’s able to turn things around in this exciting 17-chapter novel!
This book will be best appreciated by advanced readers, but we hope all will enjoy it!
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PRINCE JAN: ST. BERNARD
DOG TALE: This is the cover of one of the first editions of "Prince Jan," an adventure story about a St. Bernard.
Two years went past and Jan’s work at the Hospice brought him great happiness, for he knew that he was doing the work of his ancestors and living a useful life.
Often as he traveled the snow trails, he remembered the Land of No Snow, the warm sunshine, the fragrant flowers and the beautiful trees laden with golden fruit. But the one thing for which his loyal heart yearned most was the touch of a wrinkled hand on his head and the sound of the old poundmaster’s voice. No one knew Jan’s thoughts, for he was always eager to do his work the best he knew how, and to teach the puppies to be proud of the privilege of helping people.
Brother Antoine had left the Hospice and gone down into the warmer climate of the Valley of the Rhone. His work had been done bravely and unselfishly, and the monks had asked that he be sent to a place where sunshine and milder air would give him a chance to recover his strength and prolong his life. Jan greatly missed this dear friend.
THE END: This is the final chapter of "Prince Jan, St. Bernard." You can leave a comment below on what you think might happen next in Prince Jan's life.
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 travelers 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.
Jan slept soundly that night, and when he woke just before the first peep of day, and saw the other dogs stretched around him, he remembered that he was back home once more with his mother, Rollo, Bruno, and the rest of the Hospice dogs, and that now he would have a chance to do the work of his forefathers.
The soft, deep tones of the Hospice bell called them all to waken for a new day and its work. The voices of the monks singing in the chapel ceased, and at once all the dogs turned expectant eyes toward the corridor, where Brother Antoine appeared with food for their breakfast.
They leaped around the monk, or mauled each other in play, while the hot food was poured into a small trough, and soon Prince Jan was eating his share with the rest of them. They all made way for him, and there was no crowding, growling, or fighting over their morning meal.
When it was over the door leading into the yard was opened and the dogs tumbled out, barking, jumping, knocking each other over, or scampering full tilt in merry play. Rollo and his brother forgot they were grown-up and frisked together as they had done in the days before Prince Jan had been taken to the Land of No Snow.
BACK TO THE SNOW: Prince Jan's experiences in America made him long to return to his birthplace.
Once more Brother Antoine stood on the steps watching them, and at last he called Jan, who trotted obediently to him, and followed through the arched corridors and the long hallway until they reached the three doors that opened, one after the other, to the outside steps.
Jan saw the doctor and the captain already there. The old man was mounted on the mule, Ketty, while Pierrot, the driver, waited beside it. The doctor held a long, stout stick.
With a bark of welcome, the dog hurried to them and stood up on his hind legs so he could lick the hand of the captain and feel its gentle touch on his head.
Brother Antoine paused at the top step and watched, but he did not speak as Pierrot called aloud and the mule started briskly down the trail leading to Martigny. The doctor walked beside the mule, and then Jan understood that they were leaving the Hospice.
He stopped and gazed back wistfully. The monk on the step gave no sign, uttered no word to call him back. Sadly Jan turned and moved along the trail behind the mule. The doctor and the captain, and even Pierrot, looked at the dog, but none of them spoke to him.
For some little distance Jan trudged heavily, then he stopped suddenly and twisted for a last look at his home. He saw the high-peaked roof and the snow-clad mountains looming above it, then he turned again to follow the travelers. They were now some distance ahead of him and a jagged cliff hid them from his eyes. Jan did not move.
Through a gap he saw the captain, the doctor, and the guide. They halted this time. They were waiting there for him.
The dog started quickly toward them, but something made him look again where Brother Antoine stood on the steps. Jan hesitated, then he sat down facing the trail toward Martigny. In a few minutes he saw the little procession start on its way. He knew he could catch up with them easily if he ran fast, but still he sat without moving, his eyes fastened on that gap between the mountains.
He lifted his head and sent out the cry of his forefathers, so that the echoes rang again and again. The answering voices died away, there was no sound save the swish of melting snow that slipped down the steep places, and then Prince Jan, St. Bernard, turned and trotted up the trail to the home of his ancestors.
Brother Antoine waited on the top step. As the dog reached him, the monk stooped and patted him, whispering softly, “It is not easy, Prince Jan, when the paths that Love and Duty travel lie far apart.”
And so Prince Jan came back to the work of his ancestors, and as the months passed by he saved many lives and was very happy. The young dogs listened in respectful wonder when he told of the strange places and things that he had found in the Land of No Snow. They learned from him the lessons of obedience, loyalty, and kindliness.
“If you do the very best you know how, it will always work out right in the end,” Jan ended each talk.
But sometimes at night as he slept among the other dogs, he saw the captain walking about a room. Cheepsie was perched on the old man’s shoulder, while Hippity-Hop skipped beside them, and the dog-knew that they were thinking of him.
Then Jan’s ears cocked up, his tail swished gently on the stone floor of the Hospice, for in his dreams he heard the faint sound of a quavering voice singing:
“Old dog Tray is ever faithful,
Grief cannot drive him away.
He’s gentle and he’s kind
And you’ll never, never find
A better friend than old dog Tray.”
VOCABULARY
Look up and define these words:
Chapel –
Expectant –
Trough –
Frisked –
YOUR REACTIONS TO THE CHAPTER
In chapter 16, Prince Jan made the difficult choice about his future — whether to stay at the hospice or return to America with his friends. Have you ever made a difficult choice? What did you do and why? Post a comment below or email your story to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com.
VIDEO — A FROLLICK IN THE SNOW
Editor’s note: This is Junior Dispatch’s serialization of the 1921 book “Prince Jan, St. Bernard” by Forrestine C. Hooker. This version includes all of the original illustrations as well as additional images from around the Internet.
At the end of each chapter is a vocabulary list, an essay question and a related video, usually of a St. Bernard doing the kind of things St. Bernards do.
Junior Dispatch invites you to participate by commenting or e-mailing juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com with your thoughts on the chapter, vocabular and essay responses or artwork. If you submit a response, you will earn a JD water bottle!
Once again Jan went on a big boat, but he did not worry this time, because his friends were with him. Hippity-Hop and Cheepsie had been left with the doctor’s wife until the captain should return for them.
The voyage was followed by traveling in a train, and each day of the whole journey the doctor and captain visited Jan. When he was on the train, his friends took him out of the car a number of times, so he could stretch his legs and run about on the ground while the train waited at a station. It did not take Jan long to understand that if he did not get back in the car he would be left behind. So he watched very carefully and at the first call of the captain or the doctor, he ran swiftly to the right car and jumped in it. Passengers on the long train watched him do this, for he never mistook his own car though there were several others just like the one in which he rode.
Jan wore his silver collar, and wherever he went men and women would look at it, then pat his big head and praise him. He was very happy though he did not know where he and his friends were going.
That evening, after supper, while Jan dozed in front of the fireplace with its cheerful, glowing logs, and Hippity-Hop curled in a tight ball between his paws, he did not know that the captain was telling how Jan had been brought to the pound, sick from neglect and vicious from abuse, to be killed.
The eyes of the young mother filled with tears, and she glanced from the sleeping dog to a door leading into another room, where her baby was lying, safe and warm. But when she stooped, suddenly and stroked the dog’s head gently, his eyes opened, his tail thumped the floor, and then Jan went to sleep again, for he was very tired.
DOG FACTS: St. Bernards can weigh as much as 220 lbs. and can measure 102 inches long.
And while he took his second nap, the father of the baby explained to the captain that he was the doctor in the little town, and had it not been for Prince Jan, the pretty little mother and her child would never have come back to the home on the bluff, after their visit to friends in California.
“Prince Jan was born in the Hospice,” the old man told them. “He was only a puppy when Mr. Pixley brought him to California. To me, it never seemed just right, taking him away from the place where he belonged and where he could have been so useful, and then to treat him so cruelly. Of course, the Pixleys didn’t know the truth, but that didn’t help poor Jan.”
The doctor turned and knelt down, studying the sleeping dog, then he rose and went back to his chair.
“I took a walking tour of Switzerland after I finished my studies in Europe,” he said, at last. “So that was how I happened to be at the Hospice the day that dog was taken away. I had heard one of the monks tell about this dog’s father, who died saving travelers on an ice-bridge. I went on my way toward Italy, and I saw this dog start down the trail to Martigny, the opposite direction. I have never forgotten the pitiful look in his eyes nor the call he gave as he was led away. I felt then that it was a tragedy, but never had an idea of what the poor little fellow would have to suffer. Nor had I any idea that the lives of my dear ones would be saved through him!”
“The only thing I ever knew about the St. Bernard dogs was that they lived at the Hospice and went out to hunt lost people in the snow,” the captain spoke. “You are the first one I ever knew who had been there. I wish I could have seen it and those splendid dogs!”
“You know, the Pass of Great St. Bernard is the main road of travel between Italy and Switzerland,” the doctor went on, and his wife leaned forward as eagerly as Jan’s master to hear about Jan’s birthplace. “It was through this Pass that Napoleon Bonaparte led his army of soldiers, single file and afoot, in the month of May, 1800!”
“I have read about that march,” interrupted the old man, “and I know what it meant, with food and ammunition and those big guns to haul. You see, I served all through the four years of the Civil War.”
“May is the most dangerous time in the Alps, for the snow melts and slides in great avalanches, often catching people with no chance for escape. When I stood on the stone steps of the Hospice, where many feet have worn little hollows, and I remembered how many people would never have reached those steps without the dogs’ help, I felt that though Napoleon was a great general and a brave man, the dogs of the Hospice were just as great and just as brave. And the monument to Barry, near the old Hospice, was as fine in my eyes as the beautiful white marble one that Napoleon built in memory of General de Sais, who died on that trip, and which is in the chapel of the Hospice. Both the general and Barry did their duty, as they saw it.”
The little mother interrupted him, her eyes shining and her hands held out. “Napoleon made that march for his own glory and ambition, and to kill those who opposed his way,” she said, “but Barry and the other dogs risked death each day to save lives, with no thought of gain for themselves.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” the old captain nodded and spoke.
“What surprised me most,” continued the doctor, “was that the monks who live in the Hospice do not ask pay for anything they do. The people who stop there do not even have to pay for the food that is eaten. When I asked how much I owed for shelter and food those two days I was there, they smiled and told me there was no charge. Of course, I could not leave in that way, and when I insisted, I learned there was a little box in the Monastery Chapel for purely volunteer offerings. No one ever watches that box, and no one is ever asked to put anything into it. And yet,” he finished after a little pause, “often as many as five or six hundred people have stopped at the Hospice in one day. I was told that between twenty and twenty-five thousand people pass over the trail each year. Then when one remembers that for a thousand years the ancestors of Prince Jan have been traveling those trails and saving lives, one can understand the splendid work of those monks and the dogs.”
“And to-day,” the little mother’s voice trembled, “dear old Prince Jan proved himself worthy of his ancestors and his heritage.”
AT THE HOSPICE: This painting shows a monk with two of the St. Bernard rescue dogs. The Great St. Bernard Pass is the third highest road in Switzerland.
“Barry saved forty-two lives. His skin has been mounted and stands, wonderfully life-like, in the Museum of Berne,” the doctor said, thoughtfully. “He did the work in the familiar places, the work he had been trained to do; but to-day, there were ninety-two lives saved by Prince Jan, with only his wonderful intelligence to guide him through the sea and make him hold fast to that rope.”
For several moments none of them spoke, but their eyes were on the dog that slept quietly at their feet, while the little three-legged kitten snuggled closely against his breast and purred loudly.
“One of the most pitiful sights at the Hospice is the House of the Dead, a short distance from the Hospice. Those who have never been identified sleep there. Sometimes, you see, the dogs and monks are too late, or the avalanches of melting snow uncover people who have been buried months, or even years. The Hospice is built on solid rock, so there is no place to dig graves. Not a tree grows within seven miles of the buildings, because it is so cold, and there is no earth for the roots. It is a bare, desolate place at all times.”
“Jan must have been bewildered, going from such a place to a home in California,” the little mother spoke. “And yet, see how he worked out his life and made himself worthy!”
The doctor lighted a cigar and leaned back in his big chair. “The snow at the Hospice is not like snow in other places,” he finally said. “You know how, usually, it clings in masses, and when trodden upon it packs firmly; but in the Alps during a storm, the snow freezes as it falls and forms into little hard pellets. These tiny lumps of ice pile up around a traveller, and when he tries to push onward he sinks as though in a bed of quicksand. Unless help is at hand he soon is buried out of sight. The winds sweep fiercely through the passes between the mountain peaks, and send terrible, whirling clouds of snow that cut the face and blind the eyes, and many times a wanderer plunges over a precipice that he cannot see, or worn by struggles, he sinks exhausted to die. Then, there are the ice-bridges. What I am telling will give only a faint idea of the importance of the work of those magnificent dogs of the Hospice. And there is something that is not generally known, but is just as heroic. The monks who go to the Hospice volunteer for that work, knowing fully that five years up there in the altitude and intense cold mean practically the end of their lives. It ruins their lungs, and so, after a time, they go quietly down into the milder air of the Valley of the Rhone, in France, and there they wait cheerfully during the short span of life ahead of them. Only the young and strong monks are sent to the Hospice.”
After the doctor ceased speaking they all sat silently and watched the blazing logs, for each of the listeners, as well as the doctor, was thinking of the sacrifice and unselfishness of those monks, and the brave loyalty of their dog-friends on the trail.
“I wish I had enough money to send Prince Jan back to his own work and home,” the captain said wistfully. “Maybe, though, I can manage it some day,” he added more hopefully. “I feel as if he ought to be there with the others.”
“You are right,” agreed the doctor, and his wife nodded her head quickly. “Jan’s work, his kin, his home, lie back there at the Hospice. I owe the lives of my wife and my baby to him, and if you are willing to let him go back there, I will take him back to the Hospice myself. But, won’t you miss him?”
“It would make me as happy as it would make him, to know he was back there again,” answered the old man eagerly, as he stooped over and caressed the dog’s head.
Jan, in his sleep, recognized the touch and swished his tail lightly, but he did not open his eyes, and he never knew what the doctor and the captain had been talking about that evening.
But when it was known in the little town that the doctor was planning to take Prince Jan back to the Hospice, and those who had been saved from the ship heard the story of the dog, every one wanted to help. The newspaper printed the story of Prince Jan and his ancestors, and then people kept coming to see him, and most of them brought money for the trip back to the Hospice.
A beautiful collar of silver was made for him, and on it were engraved the words,
A TOKEN OF GRATITUDE FROM THE NINETY-TWO PEOPLE WHOSE LIVES WERE SAVED BY PRINCE JAN, WHEN ALL HOPE WAS LOST.
With this collar was a purse of money sufficient to pay Jan’s passage home, and a nice sum left over to give to the monks who cared for the dogs at the Hospice.
But the biggest surprise of all came when Captain Smith found that he, too, was to make the trip to the Hospice with the doctor and Prince Jan.
The old man wrote a letter to his daughter, explaining everything and saying he would come to her as soon as he and the doctor could get back.
Jan did not know what all the excitement in the little home meant, but every one patted him or spoke kindly, and the old captain’s eyes were shining all the time, as he trotted about the rooms, whistling.
VOCABULARY
Look up and define these words:
Hollow (noun) —
Heritage –
Desolate –
Gratitude –
YOUR REACTIONS TO THE CHAPTER
In chapter 14, several people talk about helping Prince Jan return to his home at the hospice, which would be a very expensive journey. They then raise money to do so. Have you ever helped raise money or do something to help an important cause or charity? Tell us about the cause and your effort to help in the comments below, or e-mail juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com
VIDEO — ST. BERNARD SQUEEZE
Editor’s note: This is Junior Dispatch’s serialization of the 1921 book “Prince Jan, St. Bernard” by Forrestine C. Hooker. This version includes all of the original illustrations as well as additional images from around the Internet.
At the end of each chapter is a vocabulary list, an essay question and a related video, usually of a St. Bernard doing the kind of things St. Bernards do.
Junior Dispatch invites you to participate by commenting or e-mailing juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com with your thoughts on the chapter, vocabular and essay responses or artwork. If you submit a response, you will earn a JD water bottle!
Prince Jan could not tell how many days and nights passed while the boat throbbed on its way. He grew accustomed to the motion and as the captain came often each day to see him and talk to him, and many other people also visited him, Jan found life very pleasant.
Among his visitors was a pretty young woman with big brown eyes and a gentle voice. Nearly always a little child was in her arms, or held by the hand, for it was just beginning to walk. Captain Smith and these two seemed to be great friends. Many times he carried the baby in his arms and it laughed up in his face when he held it down to pat Jan’s head. The dog watched for them every day, and he was never disappointed. Once, the captain brought Hippity-Hop to see Jan, and the kitten purred loudly and rubbed against the dog’s legs, while Jan poked her gently with his nose. The old man chuckled, “You haven’t forgotten each other, have you?” Then he picked up the kitten and carried it away.
DOG TALE: This is the cover of one of the first editions of "Prince Jan," an adventure story about a St. Bernard.
That night, without warning, everything seemed to change, somehow. The boat leaped and jumped as though it were frightened at the big waves that washed against and over it. The night was dark, and down in the hold of the vessel it was still darker. Jan listened to men running overhead, voices called loudly and then came a sudden crash. The boat quivered as though it were hurt.
Jan was thrown so heavily against the side of the boat that he lay gasping for breath, then he dragged himself to his feet. Swaying with the jerky motion, but managing to brace himself, he peered through the inky darkness toward the steps leading to the deck. Again he heard the hurried feet, the loud voices of men, and this time there were cries of women and children, too.
He knew something was not right, and as he pulled with all his strength on the rope that held him, and strained his eyes toward the stairway, he heard a sound that made him give a loud bark of joy.
“All right, Jan!” his master was calling through the darkness, “I’m coming!”
The dog whimpered and licked the hands that fumbled at the rope which was tied to the side of the boat. With a leap and yelp of joy, Jan scrambled up the stairs ahead of his master, and both of them reached the deck.
It was very early in the morning and the sky was heavy with dark clouds. The wind screamed and big waves tossed so high that at times the boat appeared to be down in the bottom of a great hole. Although the vessel jerked, groaned, creaked and crunched, it did not move forward. When the water washed back a few minutes, Jan saw jagged rocks poking up and felt the boat pounding on them. He could not understand it at all, and as he looked up with puzzled eyes at his master, he saw the old man was staring straight ahead at a strip of land not very far away, where a lot of people were running about in a great hurry.
One of the boat crew ran past Jan, carrying a rope. Other men were fastening queer looking rings about the bodies of women and children, while still more men were lowering a little boat into the water. But as soon as it touched the waves, it was turned on end and smashed like an egg-shell against the side of the ship. Jan, standing with his legs braced firmly, saw the frightened women and children huddled together. Most of them were very quiet, but some were crying. A few were kneeling on the wet deck, and though their eyes were shut, Jan knew they were not asleep, for their lips were moving as if they were talking to some one whom he could not see.
The shore did not seem very far away, and Jan saw men pushing a little boat into the water. They leaped into it quickly and grabbed up oars.
“Thank God!” said the old poundmaster to a man who stood beside him and Jan. “The Life Guards will save the women and children!”
“There is no Life Saving Station here,” Jan heard a woman’s voice reply. He looked up and saw the pretty lady beside his old master. Her face was very white and she held her baby tightly in her arms, while she stared at the place where the tiny boat was being shoved into the sea by men who stood waist-deep in the rushing water. Then the boat shot high on a wave and started toward the ship. Those on the shore joined in the cheers that sounded on the stranded ship; but even as they cheered, a bigger wave snatched at the boat and overturned it, dumping all the men into the sea. The little boat was dashed on the beach, but those who had been rowing it bobbed about in the water until helped to land.
A group of men, who had been talking with a man wearing a cap trimmed with gold braid, now carried a rope to the side of the ship and tossed it swiftly toward land. Men on the shore were trying to launch another boat, and every one on the ship leaned forward watching them. The waves carried the rope some distance forward, and then tossed it back against the ship’s side as though playing with it, just as a cat plays with a mouse. Tangled and twisted, the rope rose on the crest of a high wave, then dropped from sight, only to bob up once more, and all the time drifting further from land.
“The vessel will be driftwood in half an hour more! She is breaking amidships!” the man beside Jan was speaking again to the poundmaster. “No boat can live in such a sea and no man can swim it.”
Captain Smith looked down at Jan. “It doesn’t count so much with us, Jan,” he said, “but it’s the women and children. Maybe you can help them. Come!”
The dog started at the sound of command and followed his master across the water-washed deck to the group of ship’s officers who were gathered around the captain of the boat. All were talking earnestly when old Captain Smith and Jan pushed between them.
“Maybe Jan can take the rope to shore,” said the poundmaster, while his hand rested on Jan’s wet fur. “He’s a splendid swimmer and isn’t afraid of the water.”
The man with the gold-trimmed cap looked down at the dog whose intelligent eyes turned from face to face as though doing his best to find out why they were all looking at him, and what they wanted.
“It is too much to expect of a dog,” said the man, shaking his head. “Even if he were strong enough, he could not understand.”
“Jan understands everything I tell him,” insisted the old man, “and it wouldn’t be any harm to try him. When he once knows what we want him to do, he will do it or die in trying.”
Just then the boat lurched badly and the people slipped and slid on the slanting, wet deck, but Jan did not move. His firm muscles stiffened, he braced himself steadily and his strong back straightened. The group of officers began talking again and Jan heard them say something about his strength to Captain Smith. A heavier wave lifted the ship from the rocks then dropped her back on the jagged edges that were stabbing her to the heart, while she writhed and groaned like a living thing in agony begging for help.
The ship’s captain turned his eyes on the group of women and children, then to the shore, as though he were measuring the distance across the raging water that boomed between the boat and land. Slowly he turned back to the old man and the dog.
“He may be able to do it, if you can make him understand,” he said at last. Then he added in a low voice, “It is our only hope!”
Jan saw these men all were looking at him and then the ship’s captain spoke.
“If the dog can reach shore with the light rope so we can attach the heavier one, we can rig up a breeches-buoy with the boatswain’s chair, and the women and children could ride safely, for we could lash them to it.”
Captain Smith leaned down and took Jan’s head between trembling hands. The dog and he looked into each other’s eyes, and those who watched the two, felt a little thrill of hope. The animal seemed struggling to grasp the meaning of the old man’s words. A bit of rope was in the captain’s hand, he held it to Jan, who sniffed, then looked back at his master.
Still holding the piece of rope, Captain Smith led the dog to the side of the boat and pointed at the tangled coils that washed on the surface of the waves a short distance away.
“Go get it, Jan!” called the old man sharply.
The people on the deck crowded more closely, and the dog braced himself to spring, but just then a huge wave rose high over the vessel, the white-crested tip hissing like an angry snake, and Jan looked down, down, down into a dark hole and below it gleamed the jagged peaks of the reef, like threatening teeth of a hidden monster. He knew the danger. Drawing back he turned pleading eyes on his master.
“Go, Jan,” said the voice he loved, but this time it did not command, it begged.
The big wave slipped back, others rose behind it, each one tipped with white foam, and between those waves were deep, dark hollows. Jan looked at them, and as he looked, something changed those white-capped things into snowy peaks of the mountains around the Hospice, while the dark places between were changed to chasms and crevasses, where Barry, Pluto, Pallas, Rex and all the dogs of the Hospice had traveled year after year for ten centuries past. He heard their voices calling him. Jan’s ears cocked up, his body quivered, his muscles stiffened, his nose pointed high in the air and the cry he sent back to the calls of his kin was clear and strong like the music of a wonderful, deep-toned bell. Then he braced himself and leaped far out into the water that caught him like many strong arms and dragged him under the waves.
With all his great strength Jan fought his way to the surface and as he rose, something struck against him. He turned quickly to see what new danger threatened, and then he saw the rope and remembered what he had been told.
"Then the roaring in his ears turned to the voices of the Hospice dogs—'The duty of a St. Bernard is to save lives!'"
“Go get it, Jan!” his master had said.
The dog caught the squirming rope between his teeth, and as he did so, he heard distinctly the cheers of those on the stranded ship echoed by those on the shore before he was pulled down beneath the waves again; but he clung to the rope. When he reached the surface, Jan saw his master leaning far over the edge of the deck, pointing toward the land.
Then he understood, and without a moment’s hesitation he flung his body away from the direction of the boat and faced the shore, while the rope trailed behind him, often dragging him back with terrific jerks. The force of the waves tossed him high on dizzy crests, then he was dropped swiftly into depths of seething water. His breath came in painful gasps between his tightly clinched teeth, the water rang in his ears and he was half-blinded by the stinging salt spray that cut like a sharp knife across his eyes.
In spite of his struggles he seemed no nearer the land. Back of him he could see the swaying masts of the boat, and at times the whole length of the deck with people crowded together. Jan, dazed and almost exhausted, turned to swim back to his master and safety. His paws beat the waves more feebly, but his teeth still held the rope. Down, down, down he sank, and over his head rolled the white-crested mountains of water. Then the roaring in his ears turned to the voices of the Hospice dogs. The voices of Barry Bruno, Rex and Jan’s mother sounded clearly. Other dogs joined in the chorus until Jan knew that he heard the voices of all the dogs that had ever lived in the Hospice. Hundreds and hundreds of deep notes, like the bells of the Hospice sending a message to him. “The duty of a St. Bernard is to save lives!”
He fought with new strength, and as his head rose above the waves, the rope still dragging along, he heard cheers that grew nearer and louder, but this time the voices came from the land. A breaker curled high, dashed furiously over him and then it carried him with a rush to the beach and flung him, gasping and exhausted, high on the sand, but the end of the rope was clutched tightly between his teeth. He held it, even when men tried to take it from him, but the hands were kindly and as his jaws relaxed he was lifted gently and carried where the cruel waves could not touch him again.
Jan was too tired to open his eyes when some one knelt beside him and stroked his wet hair, and a man’s voice said huskily, “You wonderful, brave fellow!”
Cheers sounded loud and long, and at last Jan opened his eyes and lifted his head wearily for a second. Before it dropped again to the sand, he saw men on the shore working with another, heavier rope, and some one called out, “Thank God! They got it that time!”
Jan staggered to his feet and with wobbling legs moved a few steps forward. Then he forgot his weariness and aching muscles and stood watching something strange, something that made women near him cry, and the men cheer wildly.
AT REST: After Prince Jan brings the rope from the ship, he nearly collapses from exhaustion.
A rope reached from the shore to the stranded ship, and something was moving slowly along that rope toward the land. Jan’s feet were in the surf, but he did not know it as he, too, watched and saw a chair, and in that chair was a woman.
She was seized by eager hands and lifted down among them, laughing and crying and saying, “Oh, quick! Save the others!”
Again and again the chair traveled over the waves that leaped up to clutch it, but the rope was firm. And once when a woman was carried in the chair, a man on the shore gave a big cry of joy as he clasped her in his arms. Jan recognized the pretty lady, but she did not have her baby in her arms this time. Then every one was silent, only a woman’s sob sounded softly, and the pretty lady stood staring across the water, where high above the waves swung a big leather mailbag. It came nearer and nearer, and men went far out into the surf to steady it, until it was unfastened, lifted down, opened, and the pretty lady, crying and laughing, held her baby in her arms, and the child laughed back at them all.
Men cheered and cheered, and from the ship came answering cheers, while the mother and father of the child knelt down beside the dog, saying, “You saved her, Prince Jan!”
The dog watched vainly for his master. Trip after trip brought men and women to the land, and each one was welcomed wildly. Then Jan, still watching, gave a great “Woof!” and rushed out into the water. The chair was approaching the shore, and in the chair was Jan’s master. A basket was held in the old man’s lap and on it was fastened a bird cage with a badly frightened canary. Through a break in the basket waved Hippity-Hop’s furry paw. Those on the shore scattered as Prince Jan raced among them uttering hysterical yelps until his master stood safely beside him and leaned down catching the dog’s long, soft ears and pulling them gently, while he said over and over, “Jan, Prince Jan! I knew you would do it!”
And so, ninety-one people were brought safely to shore in the boatswain’s chair with the rope that Prince Jan had carried, and the baby that had ridden in the mail sack was kissed and hugged by all those who could get near her.
Then Prince Jan followed the captain, the pretty lady, and the man who walked beside her with the baby perched high on his shoulder, and who had his other arm around the waist of the baby’s mother. A tiny paw reached out of the hamper Captain Smith was carrying, and the dog felt the tap of Hippity-Hop’s paw on his ear. He turned at the touch and put his nose to the basket, and then he saw Cheepsie, fluttering in the cage that was gripped by the old captain’s other hand.
The little party reached the top of a bluff and turned around to look across the rough waves. The deserted ship reeled sideways. Water rose and hid it an instant. When next they looked, there was nothing but the sky with threatening clouds and the wind-lashed sea.
No one spoke as they went up the pathway of a little house where the pretty lady lived. The door was opened, they entered, and then the pretty lady knelt suddenly beside Jan and kissed his head.
“God bless you, Prince Jan!” she whispered.
And though the dog did not understand it, he was very happy because he knew they were all glad.
VOCABULARY
Look up and define these words:
Sway –
Driftwood –
Boatswain –
Breaker –
YOUR REACTIONS TO THE CHAPTER
In chapter thirteen, Prince Jan proved himself to be a top-notch rescue dog and a hero to the 93 lives he saved (91 people, 1 bird and 1 cat). Who is a hero in your life? A sports star? An artist or an author? Or maybe a relative. Write about your hero and email your story to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com.
For several days after Shorty had gone on his way to the Land of Make-Believe with Mr. Melville, life ran very quietly and happily for Prince Jan and his friends in the little bungalow on the cliffs. Then he began to notice that Captain Smith was worried, and when Jan poked his nose into the hand of his friend, though the hand stroked the dog’s head, the poundmaster did not smile and his eyes looked as if he saw something Jan could not see. It worried Jan, though he could do nothing but lie quietly with his anxious eyes fixed on the old man’s face.
One evening after supper a loud knock at the door caused the dog to look up quickly, while Hippity-Hop jumped with fuzzed tail and excited eyes. The captain opened the door and two men came in. They shook hands with him and sat down in the chairs he pushed forward. The two men looked around the room, stared at the dog, then turned to Jan’s master. The look on the poundmaster’s face made the dog feel certain that these men had something to do with the old man’s worry, so Jan went over and sat close to him, resting his big head on the captain’s knee.
DOG TALE: This is the cover of one of the first editions of "Prince Jan," an adventure story about a St. Bernard.
“Is that the dog that was stolen?” one of the visitors asked at last.
“Yes,” replied the captain. “This is Prince Jan. He was sent to the pound almost dead with mange and orders through the stableman that the dog was to be killed because he was vicious. But,” the poundmaster smiled down at the dog that was gazing with loving eyes into his face, “you see, all he needed was kind treatment and proper care.”
“I understand, Smith,” the other man now spoke in a voice that sounded cross to Jan, “that you are violating the City ordinances, and are keeping the dogs that are brought to the pound. They are sent here to be killed, not kept.”
“I find homes for them all,” the old man hastened to say, “and it only takes a short time to find people who will give them good homes. Not one of the dogs that has been brought here since I had charge has been vicious. Those that seemed dangerous at first grew gentle and kind as soon as they found no one would hurt them.”
“Of course, we know how you feel about them, but the City hires you to kill the dogs if their owners do not claim or want them. People complain that you keep the dogs and feed them at the public expense. We can’t have that, you know.”
Captain Smith rose, and the hand he held out suddenly toward the two men was trembling. “I don’t know who told you that,” he said earnestly, “and I don’t believe that whoever did say it meant to tell an untruth, but the only dogs that are fed at public cost are those for which I am allowed money. After any dog has been with me for more than a week, I pay for his food myself.”
The two strange men looked at each other and were silent a few minutes. Finally one of them spoke again,
“I’m sorry, Smith, but you will have to get rid of the dogs. The pound is not a boarding place for stray dogs, and the fact that you pay for their feed after a certain time does not change matters.”
The old man sat down in his chair as though he were very tired, and stared at the floor until he felt Jan’s nose, and then he looked into the dog’s sympathetic eyes. The wrinkled hand twitched, but the old man’s kindly face turned to the other man.
“I know you can’t change the law,” he said slowly, “but if you could let me have a little more time, I can find homes for all the dogs that are here now. There are only ten, beside Prince Jan, and he belongs to me. See”—he pushed aside the thick hair on the dog’s neck—”I bought a collar and a license for him, and he has never eaten a mouthful of food except what I have paid for myself.”
“Too many people have complained,” was the reply. “The dogs are noisy, and no one is allowed to have so many dogs inside the city limits. You know it is against the law, Smith. That settles it.”
Both men rose to their feet and looked at the old man, but at the door they stopped and talked together in low voices. Then one of them turned and said, “We don’t want to be too hard on you, for we know you love dogs, so we will give you two days to find places for them. After that, the dogs that are still here must be killed, or you will have to resign your position as poundmaster.”
Smith watched them go down the pathway to the front gate, then with low drooping head and slow steps he went back to the little room. Jan pressed closely against him as the old man sank into his chair. Cheepsie flew from his cage and perched on the captain’s shoulder, singing loudly, and Hippity-Hop, not to be left from the little family group, limped across the room and rubbed, purring, against the old poundmaster’s leg. They knew that he was troubled, and all of them tried to make him understand they were sorry for him and loved him.
Jan reached the front gate and let out a ringing “Woof” of joy that brought the captain and Hippity-Hop out at once. The old man’s arms went about Jan’s neck, and the dog gave little whines of delight, his tongue touched the wrinkled hands, and his tail went around so fast that it did not look like a tail, but just a blur of fuzzy hair.
When Mr. Melville was seated, and the Captain on a chair near by, Jan’s head rested on the old man’s knee and the toil-worn fingers stroked the dog’s soft fur. Hippity-Hop rubbed against Jan’s legs, purring like a noisy little buzz-saw, and Cheepsie flew down from his cage to perch first on the shoulder of the captain and then on Prince Jan’s head, while a flood of bird-music filled the little room.
"I wish the children could see Jan now!"
“I wish the children could see Jan now!” said Mr. Melville, and then he told the captain about finding Jan and the story in the paper that had brought the dog back to his master.
Hippity-Hop had been very lonely after Jan’s disappearance, and the dog did not dream that the three-legged kitten had mewed and mewed for him until the old captain picked her up in his arms and said, “He will come back to us some day, Hippity-Hop.” And each day the old man, with the kitten at his side, sat on the front porch watching down the road.
The morning after Jan’s return, Mr. Melville came again to the bungalow and he and the captain called Jan to get in the automobile with them. Hippity-Hop’s forlorn little face peered between the curtains of the front window, but none of them heard her plaintive cry as they all vanished from her sight. When the automobile stopped, Jan saw a grey building of stones with windows crossed by iron bars. He followed his friends into a large room where several men were seated. They spoke to the captain and Mr. Melville, and all looked at Jan, patting his head for some reason, as they talked of him.
Then Jan, the captain, and Mr. Melville followed another man through long dim hallways that had doors on either side, very close together. One of these doors was unlocked, and as Jan and his friends passed through, the door was shut and locked again.
They were in a dingy room with grey walls, the only window being high up and criss-crossed by bars. It was a very small window. On a cot in a corner of the room sat a man. He turned his head toward them and when he saw the dog, he jumped to his feet, calling, “Jan!”
The home of Jan’s new friends was perched high on the top of a mountain peak, far above the canyon through which they had driven. Jan heard them call this place Topango Pass. The house stood alone with overhanging oak trees and a garden full of flowers that made him think of the yard in front of the captain’s bungalow.
A big stone fireplace was near the house, and pink geraniums grew closely around the little home, while over the porch climbed yellow roses that looked as if the fairies had hidden their gold among the green leaves.
DOG TALE: This is the cover of one of the first editions of "Prince Jan," an adventure story about a St. Bernard.
“This is Roseneath,” announced Charlotte to Jan as the automobile stopped in front of the porch and the two girls jumped out, followed by the dog.
“Charlotte!” Ruth said suddenly, stopping halfway up the path, “we’ve got to find a name for that dog right away!”
It was a very serious matter, so the children sat on the lowest step of the porch and Jan squatted before them. He wished he could help by telling his name and about the Hospice, but all he could do was to sit still and look from one eager little face to the other. After trying several names they decided on “Bruin.”
“Because he is so big and black, just like a bear!”
Jan rather liked the name. It sounded like Bruno, but of course, the sunbonnet children did not know anything about Bruno and the Hospice, so they said Jan was very smart to remember the new name without any trouble at all.
The next morning he was wakened early by the children’s voices and hurried to meet them in front of the house. Charlotte had a tin bucket in her hand and Jan wondered if they were going to pick more berries. But they went down a path that led to the stable and then he stood still in surprise.
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