Franz Halle felt he was worthless because he could not manage book learning, but his schoolmaster and the village pastor knew that the boy had a priceless knowledge all his own. The kindly priest secured work for Franz at near-by St. Bernard Hospice, helping a gentle giant of a man who made it possible for him to keep his beloved Alpine mastiff, Caesar, although the huge animal refused to earn his keep, even by turning the spit. When the scarcity of food forced Caesar's reluctant banishment, Franz—who had joined the monks in their daily patrol of the dangerous passes—proved that where even he, with all his rare knowledge of the ways of the blizzards, might fail, a dog could detect a man buried under an avalanche! So Franz and his brave helper initiated the rescue work of the St. Bernard dogs that was to become famous throughout the world.
strong men were able to bear, so, even though Franz was the only human who could handle him, Caesar earned his way.
Professor Luttman said, "You will please translate the assignment."
Franz, whose body was present but whose spirit had flown to help Caesar chase the fox, paid no attention.
Then he was rudely jerked back into the hall of learning.
"I am talking to you, Franz," Professor Luttman said.
"Me? Oh! Yes, sir," Franz stammered.
"Proceed," Professor Luttman said.
"Well--You see, sir--"
Professor Luttman's kindly, studious face was suddenly very weary. "Did you even hear me?" he asked.
"No, sir," Franz admitted.
"Very well, I'll repeat. Translate the assigned lesson."
"I--I cannot do it, sir."
"Why not?" Professor Luttman asked.
"I do not know it, sir," Franz confessed.
Hertha Bittner, who was always able to do any lesson perfectly, giggled. Her laugh was echoed by the other students. Professor Luttman look