"I have heard the monks tell visitors that our ancestors have lived in
the Hospice for a thousand years," said Bruno in one of his talks. "When
you puppies are old enough, you will be trained for work. The duty of a
St. Bernard dog is to save lives and be worthy of his ancestors."

Jan and Rollo looked at him and thumped their tails to show that they
understood.

"A good St. Bernard dog must have a sensitive nose, sturdy legs, and
keen brains," Bruno's voice was very sober. "He knows what he must do
when he finds a human being lost in the storm or frozen in the snow.
Then he leads the way to the Hospice, or if the traveller does not
follow, the dog brings monks to aid the man. Should one of us ever fail
to do his best," he turned his big head slowly and his eyes were serious
as he looked at the puppies, "it would mean disgrace for all the rest of
the St. Bernard dogs."

"Tell us more stories, Bruno," the youngsters begged.

"Not to-day," Bruno shook his wise head. "Your ancestors have done great
things, and you have the right to be proud of them, but the only way to
prove yourselves worthy is for you to do your duty as well as they did
theirs. Unless you remember your lessons and follow them, you will not
be true St. Bernards, and your failures will be stains on the honor of
the name we bear. Never forget that as long as you live!"

Bruno understood that the soft little whimpers were promises that each
puppy would do his best when the test came to him. Jan and Rollo watched
the old dog, limping from rheumatism in his shoulders, move slowly