Mary Pope Osborne - Magic Tree House 46 (3 page)

“Funny,” said Jack. But he was ready to find shelter, too. His face was freezing. He packed up their book and slung the leather bag over his shoulder, then followed Annie out the tree house window.

Jack’s feet crunched down onto the icy snow. As the sun went down behind the peaks, deep purple shadows climbed over the tall mountains. The monastery in the hollow below was completely hidden in darkness.

“We have to hurry,” said Annie.

“No, we have to move
slowly
down the slope, so we don’t slide,” said Jack.

“Well, then let’s move slowly
quickly
,” said Annie.

Jack and Annie started down the slope. As they carefully put one foot in front of the other, a strange sound came from above:
whumph!

“What was that?” said Jack, looking around.

Next came a low rumble like thunder.

“What’s
that
?” said Annie.

Then came a noise like the sound of glass breaking.

“Whoa!” cried Jack.

Directly above them on the mountain, big blocks of snow were breaking into smaller chunks and sliding down the slope.

“Grab my hand!” shouted Jack. He reached for Annie, and she gripped his hand.

Suddenly snow was moving all around them! Even the snow beneath them was sliding! A block of icy snow slammed into Jack, knocking him away from Annie.

“Jack!” Annie cried.

Another chunk of snow knocked Jack off his feet and sent him tumbling headfirst down the
slope. Jack kept falling downhill until a wall of frozen snow stopped him. He tried to stand, but a giant wave of soft, powdery snow blew over him, burying him completely.

Jack kicked his arms and legs, trying to surface from the fluffy sea of snow. He kicked and flailed, but the harder he struggled, the more snow there seemed to be. Snow clogged Jack’s eyes, ears, and throat. Every time he coughed, he sucked in more snow. He felt as if he were drowning—until he finally pushed his head up through the snow into the cold air.

He could breathe!

But Jack still couldn’t see. A gust of snow powder blinded him. He couldn’t move his arms or hands, his legs or feet. The soft snow around his body had turned hard and solid. Jack felt as if he were trapped in cold concrete, buried up to his neck. Where was Annie? Had she been buried alive, too?

Jack tried to yell, but no sound came from his
throat. He kept trying to shout for Annie, but it was hopeless. His lips wouldn’t move. He couldn’t even feel his mouth. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs, feet or hands. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t feel anything, not even the wind that kept blowing snow in his face.…

Owww!
Jack screamed in his head. His eyes shot open. He was freezing cold, and creatures were attacking him! They were whimpering, snuffling, panting, whining.
Wild dogs!
Jack thought with terror.

Two dogs were scratching and digging all around Jack’s body. A third dog licked his eyes and ears and the top of his head! Jack felt as if he were about to be licked to death!

Help!
Jack tried to shout. But no sound came from his clogged throat.
Help! Help!
His mind roared. But the three huge, panting creatures kept licking him and pawing the icy snow that had trapped Jack’s body.

As the giant dogs hovered over him, Jack saw flames behind them. Figures in hooded robes were moving about in the fiery light, carrying torches. The figures were scarier than the dogs.

“Jack!” came a faint cry.

“Annie?” Jack croaked.

A man shouted, and the dogs backed off. The flaming torches shone directly on Jack. He could see that he’d been mostly dug out of the snow, but he still couldn’t feel or move his body.

Two of the hooded figures leaned down and tightly gripped Jack’s arms. They pulled him to his feet. When they let go of him, he started to fall. They grabbed him again and lifted him onto a cloth stretcher.

“My—my sister …,” Jack chattered. He managed to lift his head and look back. In the torchlight, he saw Annie lying on a stretcher, wrapped in a blanket.

“She is safe,” said one of the men.

“Who—who are you?” Jack asked, shivering uncontrollably. He had lost his hat and scarf in the snow.

“We are monks from the Saint Bernard Monastery,” the man answered. He covered Jack with a heavy blanket.

“Oh … thank you,” whispered Jack.

The three dogs led the way over the snowy pass, snorting and sneezing and panting. The monks followed, carrying Jack and Annie through the cold, windy dark.

W
hen they reached the monastery, the monks lowered the two stretchers to the ground. They helped Jack and Annie to their feet and then led them up a short flight of steps to a big wooden door.

“You okay?” Jack asked Annie.

“Yes,” she said. “You?”

“Just cold,” Jack said, shivering.

One monk rang a large bell outside the door. Another handed Jack his leather bag. “We found this beside you,” the man said.

“Oh, thanks,” said Jack. He’d forgotten all about the bag.

Someone inside pulled open the door. Jack and Annie limped into a torchlit hallway with a vaulted ceiling and a wide staircase. The monks and three dogs followed.

The monks lifted their hoods, revealing friendly faces. For the first time, Jack got a good look at the huge, panting dogs. They were Saint Bernards with white and reddish-brown fur. They had powerful heads, square muzzles, and drooping jowls.

As the monks who had rescued Jack and Annie went down the hall with the dogs, two other monks stepped forward. They both wore dark robes and round black caps.

“Welcome,” one said in a deep, warm voice. He was a large man with a rugged face. “I am Father Laurent, the head of the monastery.”

“And I am Brother Michael,” said the other monk. He was not much taller than Jack, and his face was smooth and rosy.

“We’re Jack and Annie,” Jack said hoarsely. He still didn’t have his full voice.

“Thanks for saving us,” said Annie.

“We were happy to do so,” said Father Laurent. “You must come and sit by the fire in the parlor to warm yourselves and dry your clothes. Brother Michael will take you there while I ask our cook to warm some soup for you.”

“Thanks,” said Annie. “That sounds great.”

Jack nodded. He wanted to lie down, but at the same time he was hungry and cold.

“Come with me,” said Brother Michael. “Are you able to walk on your own?”

“Sure,” said Jack.

Jack and Annie could walk without help, but they both limped a little as they followed Brother Michael down the hall into the dimly lit parlor. The three Saint Bernards were resting in front of a huge fireplace. “Wow,” breathed Annie. The dogs barely looked up.

“Please, sit by the fire,” said Brother Michael.

Jack and Annie sat on wooden chairs and stared in a daze at the crackling fire. A moment later, Father Laurent came into the room and handed them bowls of steaming soup. The two
monks waited as Jack and Annie drank the hot broth.

By the time they had emptied their bowls, Jack was feeling much better. The hot liquid had warmed his insides, and the heat from the fire had nearly dried his clothes.

“Thank you. I feel a lot better now,” Annie said to the two monks.

“You must stay here and rest for the night,” said Father Laurent. “You can continue your journey in the morning when you are rested.”

“Thank you,” said Jack.

The monk looked at them curiously. “You must be very brave to try to travel the pass in the dark,” he said.

“Or not very smart,” Annie said.

Father Laurent smiled. “Yes, but I did not want to say that,” he said.

“No kidding; we were looking for flowers!” said Annie.

“Goodness,” said Brother Michael. “I am afraid you’ve come to the wrong place to pick flowers.”

Both monks chuckled, and Annie laughed with them. Jack could barely smile—he was worried.
I knew we came to the wrong place!
he thought.

“Now tell me, why were you really traveling on the pass?” asked Father Laurent.

“Well … um … actually, we’re on a mission,” said Jack.

“Indeed?” said Brother Michael.

“Yes … we … um …,” Jack said.

“We’re on a mission to learn more about the Alps,” said Annie.

“That’s right,” said Jack. “We’re doing a report.”

“But you are very young,” said Brother Michael.

“We
are
young,” said Annie. “But we are serious researchers. In fact, we recently went to India and studied the Taj Mahal. It’s amazingly beautiful. Have you ever seen it?”

“Uh, no, we haven’t,” said Brother Michael.
He seemed a little surprised, but Father Laurent only smiled.

Before either monk could say any more, Annie continued, “I have some questions right now about these mountain dogs. Jack, get out your notebook.”

Jack reached into his bag and took out his pencil and notebook.

“So,” Annie said in a serious voice, “exactly how did your dogs know that we needed help?”

“Well, the Saints always know if someone is trapped in the snow,” said Brother Michael.

“The Saints?” asked Jack.

The monk pointed to the dogs lying near the hearth. “Our Saint Bernard dogs,” he said. “We have fifteen of them. We call them simply the Saints. They were named after Saint Bernard, who founded the monastery.”

“Oh, right,” said Jack. “Saint Bernard of Menthon.” He pushed his glasses back and took notes: