He was only a puppy when his
master went away to the Trojan war. The years went by and Ulysses did
not return. Every one thought that he was dead. At last Argus grew so
old and feeble that he could not run about the palace. All day long he
lay in the warm, sunny courtyard, too weak to move. It was twenty years
since he had heard his master's voice.
One day a beggar came into the courtyard. No one knew who he was. The
queen looked at him coldly. There was no friendly face to greet him. But
the old dog lifted up his head and whined and wagged his tail for joy.
The beggar's rags could not deceive him. He knew his master had come
back at last, and Ulysses stooped to caress him with tears in his eyes.
The most famous dog in the world was a mastiff of St. Bernard's. His
name was Barry. He lived high up in the Alps where it is winter the
greater part of the year. He was trained, by the good monks with whom he
lived, to go out and hunt for travelers lost in the snow. When he found
a man lying half-frozen in the drifts, he would run back, barking for
help. Then the monks would follow him and bring the traveler to their
warm house.
[Illustration: THE CONNOISSEURS. By Sir Edwin Landseer.]
Barry knew all the dangerous places, and when there had been a snow
slide he was sure to be on the spot as soon as he could, to see if any
one were hurt.
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