Mary Pope Osborne - Magic Tree House 46 (8 page)

“Of course I did!” said Annie, grinning.

“Playing with you and Barry was one of the happiest things I’ve done in my life,” said Jack. “And we helped teach him stuff, and we helped him save a life!”

“I know,” said Annie.

As he hurried through the snow beside Barry, Jack tried to remember how it felt to be a dog. He moved quickly, keeping in step with Barry’s prancing gait. He inhaled the cold, fresh wind, smelling woodsmoke and falling snow.

By the time they had all reached the monastery, the wind and snow had stopped. Jack held the door for Brother Michael and the three
soldiers. Then he, Annie, and Barry followed them inside.

Father Laurent and another man were waiting for them in the torchlit hallway. The man wore a long gray overcoat and a large black hat in the shape of a triangle. He had a pale face, and his gray eyes were deeply set above a long, straight nose. Jack thought he looked familiar.

“So the missing officer has been found! Wonderful!” said Father Laurent. “Brother Michael, please make him comfortable by the fire in the parlor. Bring him some hot soup.” Brother Michael led the soldiers down the hall.

“Jack and Annie,” said Father Laurent, “may I present you to Consul Napoléon Bonaparte?”

Now Jack knew why the man looked so familiar! He had seen paintings of the famous military leader in history books.

Napoléon Bonaparte took off his hat and bowed his head. When he straightened up, he looked at Annie and Jack with a piercing gaze.

“Am I to understand you have saved my man from a snowy grave?” Napoléon Bonaparte said.

“Not us, Consul, sir,” said Jack. “It was Barry.”

The big dog was swinging his tail and panting.

“
Barry
saved the lost soldier?” exclaimed Father Laurent. “Oh, my! I knew that you were trying to train him. But I had no idea you could work miracles! How did you do it?”

“Well … I guess we know how to think like dogs,” said Jack.

“Delightful! Good dogs! All three of you!” said Father Laurent, laughing.

Barry sneezed. Jack and Annie sneezed, too.

“I think we all need some hot tea and a fire,” said Father Laurent. “Come. Let us go into my library.”

“Thank you, but I fear I must be on my way,” Napoléon Bonaparte said. “I will allow my three men to rest here, but I must return to camp. I will see you tomorrow with all your dogs. And of course”––he patted Barry’s head—“I hope that this one leads the way. He is a great dog.”

“Indeed he is,” said Father Laurent. “Good afternoon, Your Excellency.”

The French ruler opened the door and stepped out into the cold. He turned back and saluted them, then strode away alone through the snow.

Father Laurent closed the door. He looked at Jack and Annie and laughed. “This has been quite a day,” he said, shaking his head. “I met Napoléon Bonaparte for the first time—and Barry became
a true Saint! Let us celebrate with a cup of tea. A fresh pot is waiting in the library.”

“Thank you, that sounds great,” said Annie. She looked at Jack.

“Sure, cool,” said Jack.

Jack, Annie, and Barry followed Father Laurent down the main hall. He opened the door to a large room lit with flickering candles and a blazing fire. Barry flopped down near the fireplace.

Jack and Annie looked around at the room. Shadows played on shelves with rows and rows of leather-bound books. Along one of the walls were glass cabinets filled with displays of butterflies, other insects, feathers, and rocks.

“Wow,” breathed Jack. “This is a great room.”

“I confess it is my favorite room in all the world,” said Father Laurent. “I am a lover of knowledge.”

“So are we,” said Jack.

“Wonderful. I thought you might be,” said the
monk. “Come, sit, please.” He led them to a small table. They all sat down, and Father Laurent poured tea from a silver pot into three china cups.

As they each took a sip of the hot, sweet tea, Barry barked. He stood up and wagged his tail, staring at them. He barked again.

“He wants attention,” said Father Laurent, shaking his head. “Quiet, Barry.”

But Barry barked again.

“Oh!” said Annie. “I know what he wants! He wants to show you something! Barry,
stay.
” She walked to the other side of the room. Barry didn’t move.

“
Come
, Barry,” said Annie.

Barry walked to Annie and stood very still.

“
Sit,
Barry,” said Annie.

Barry sat. His tail thumped the stone floor.

“My! I can’t believe it!” said Father Laurent. “It’s like magic!”

“You have no idea,” said Annie.

Jack laughed. “Good dog, Barry,” he said.

“Perhaps you would like to brush him?” Father
Laurent said to Annie. The monk got a large brush from a shelf and gave it to her. “Brushing always makes a Saint happy, and Barry has more than earned his happiness today.”

Annie got up from her chair and knelt beside Barry. As she gently brushed his beautiful, thick fur, Barry leaned against her and put his paw on her foot.

Father Laurent smiled. “A Saint leans against you to keep you warm,” he said, “and he’ll put his paw on your foot to keep it warm, too.”

“You sound like you love dogs,” said Annie.

“I do indeed,” said Father Laurent. “I love all of nature. In fact, I often leave the monastery and go on expeditions just to study the natural world.”

“What do you do on your expeditions?” asked Jack.

“Oh, I have gathered many rare specimens of butterflies, other insects, rocks, and minerals, as you can see from my displays,” said Father Laurent, pointing to the cases in his library. “But I am a botanist first and foremost.”

“A botanist?” said Annie.

“A botanist studies plants,” said Father Laurent. He stood and walked over to a shelf and picked out a large book with a pale cloth cover. “
This
is my most precious treasure. On my mountain expeditions, I have found many rare and beautiful flowers. They are preserved in this book.”

Jack’s heart started to pound. “You mean you have
real
flowers in that book?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Father Laurent. “Would you like to see them?”

Jack and Annie nodded.

Father Laurent smiled and brought the book over to the table.

F
ather Laurent sat down at the table and opened his book of flowers. Jack and Annie looked over the monk’s shoulder. Even Barry stepped closer to the table and pushed his giant head under Father Laurent’s elbow to look at the book.

The monk carefully turned the rough linen pages. The pages were blank, but pressed between them were leaves and flowers. Father Laurent gently held up a cluster of tiny pink flowers. The flowers were completely flat and dry, but they had kept all their petals and color.

“These are
Androsace alpina.
That’s their scientific name. Their popular name is Alpine rock-jasmine,” said the monk. “Several summers ago, I found these hidden among mountain rocks.”

“Nice,” said Annie.

Jack held his breath.
Could there be a white and yellow flower in the book?

Father Laurent turned the page and very carefully picked up a dark golden flower. “This is
Caltha palustris,
better known as marsh marigold,” he said. “I found this two years ago in the southern Alps.”

“Lovely,” said Annie.

Father Laurent turned the page again. He held up a dried white flower. “
Cerastium fontanum,
the mouse-ear chickweed,” the monk said. “Its tiny petals look like the ears of a mouse.”

“Cute,” said Annie.

“Yes,” said Father Laurent. He gently closed the cloth-covered book. “Since you like flowers so much, I assume you like butterflies, too. Let me show you my favorites.” He started to stand up.

“No, wait, please,” said Jack. He tried to keep his voice steady. “Do you happen to have a white and yellow flower in that book?”

Father Laurent frowned. “Hmm … let me see. Oh, yes, of course.” He opened the book again and turned the pages until he found what he was looking for. He carefully held up a flower with white petals and a yellow center. It shone in the firelight, as if it were still alive.

“
Ranunculus glacialis,
the glacial buttercup,” said the monk. “One of the highest flowering plants in the Alps. A perfect specimen! I found it not far from our monastery just last summer.”

“That’s it,” whispered Jack. “That’s exactly what we’re looking for!”

“You’re looking for the glacial buttercup?” Father Laurent asked. “Why?”

“Why?” said Jack. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Uh, we have some friends who really love flowers,” said Annie. “And when we were heading out to do our research in the Alps, they asked us to please try to find one of those and bring it back to them.”

“I see,” said the monk. “Well, then allow me to give you this glacial buttercup to take back to your friends. I’m sure I can find another later in the summer. It is the least I can do to thank you for the wonderful work you did with Barry today.”

“Thank you!” said Jack.

“Do you know if the glacial buttercup has any special meaning?” said Annie.

Father Laurent squinted at the flower. “Well, throughout history many flowers have had special meanings,” he said. “Let me think.”

“Wait, please,” said Jack. He quickly pulled out his notebook and pencil. “Okay. Ready.”

“If I recall, buttercups stand for childhood, the carefree, open spirit of childhood,” said Father Laurent. “Such a joyful spirit can brighten even the most bleak and barren places.”

Jack quickly wrote:

Jack looked at Father Laurent. “That sounds like the spirit of a dog,” he said. He stroked Barry’s ear. It felt like warm velvet.

Father Laurent smiled. “Yes. Yes, it does,” he said. “Dogs and children share a common spirit. I do agree with that.”

Jack and Annie looked at each other. “Well,
I guess we’d better leave now,” said Jack. He put away his pencil and notebook.

“Can you not stay another night?” asked Father Laurent. “It will be dark soon.”

“That’s okay. We can find our way home, even in the dark,” said Jack.