"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.
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