rers are overtaken by
them and lost in the blinding snowfall. The paths fill suddenly, and but
for the dogs many would perish."

"Oh, I know," interrupted Lloyd, eagerly. "There is a story about them in
my old third readah, and a pictuah of a big St. Bernard dog with a flask
tied around his neck, and a child on his back."

"Yes," answered the Major, "it is quite probable that that was a picture
of the dog they called Barry. He was with the good monks for twelve years,
and in that time saved the lives of forty travellers. There is a monument
erected to him in Paris in the cemetery for dogs. The sculptor carved that
picture into the stone, the noble animal with a child on his back, as if
he were in the act of carrying it to the hospice. Twelve years is a long
time for a dog to suffer such hardship and exposure. Night after night he
plunged out alone into the deep snow and the darkness, barking at the top
of his voice to attract the attention of lost travellers. Many a time he
dropped into the drifts exhausted, with scarcely enough strength left to
drag himself back to the hospice.

"Forty lives saved is a good record. You may be sure that in his old age
Barry was tenderly cared for. The monks gave him a pension and sent him to
Berne, where the climate is much warmer. When he died, a taxidermist
preserved his skin, and he was placed in the museum at Berne, where he
stands to this day, I am told, with the little flask around his neck. I
saw him there one time, and although Barry was only a dog, and I an
officer in my country's service, I stood with uncovered head before him.
For he was as truly a hero and served human kind as nobly as if he had
fallen on the field of battle.

"He had been trained like a soldier to his duty, and no matter how the
storms raged on the mountains, how dark the night, or how dangerous the
paths that led along the slippery precipices, at the word of command he
sprang to obey. Only a dumb beast, some people would call him, guided only
by brute instinct, but in his shaggy old body beat a loving heart, loyal
to his master's command, and faithful to his duty.

"As I stood there gazing into the kind old face, I thought of the time
when I lay wounded on the field of Strasburg. How glad I would have been
to have seen some dog like Barry come bounding to my aid! I had fallen in
a thicket, where the ambulance corps did not discover me until next day. I
lay there all that black night, wild with pain, gr