alk to him," she thought. "If grandfathah were
away off in a strange land by himself like that, I'd want somebody to
cheer him up."

It is always good to feel that one is welcome, and Lloyd was glad that she
had ventured into the courtyard, when she saw the smile that lighted the
Major's face at sight of her, and when the dog, rising at her approach,
came forward joyfully wagging his tail.

The conversation was easy to begin, with Hero for a subject. There were
many things she wanted to know about him: how he happened to belong to the
Major; what country he came from; why he was called a St. Bernard, and if
the Major had ever owned any other dogs.

After a few questions it all came about as she had hoped it would. The old
man settled himself back in his chair, thought a moment, and then began at
the first of his acquaintance with St. Bernard dogs, as if he were
reading a story from a book.

"Away up in the Alpine Mountains, too high for trees to grow, where there
is only bare rock and snow and cutting winds, climbs the road that is
known as the Great St. Bernard Pass. It is an old, old road. The Celts
crossed it when they invaded Italy. The Roman legions crossed it when they
marched out to subdue Gaul and Germany. Ten hundred years ago the Saracen
robbers hid among its rocks to waylay unfortunate travellers. You will
read about all that in your history sometime, and about the famous march
Napoleon made across it on his way to Marengo. But the most interesting
fact about the road to me, is that for over seven hundred years there has
been a monastery high up on the bleak mountain-top, called the monastery
of St. Bernard.

"Once, when I was travelling through the Alps, I stopped there one cold
night, almost frozen. The good monks welcomed me to their hospice, as they
do all strangers who stop for food and shelter, and treated me as kindly
as if I had been a brother. In the morning one of them took me out to the
kennels, and showed me the dogs that are trained to look for travellers in
the snow. You may imagine with what pleasure I followed him, and listened
to the tales he told me.

"He said there is not as much work for the dogs now as there used to be
years ago. Since the hospice has been connected with the valley towns by
telephone, travellers can inquire about the state of the weather and the
paths, before venturing up the dangerous mountain passes. Still, the
storms begin with little warning sometimes, and wayfa