Dogsbody (15 page)

“I’ve never
seen
your beastly Zoi! And I can’t tell you anything about us or our Master. Only those who run with us and share our duties are allowed to know. My name’s Yeff. That’s all I can tell you. Now
let me
go
!”

Yeff seemed quite frantic. He tugged until Sirius was afraid he would rip his throat, and, since Sirius’s mouth was now so numb that he could not tell how hard he was biting, he thought he had better loosen his grip a little. As soon as he did, Yeff jerked his jowl loose and ran away up the mound in great fluid leaps.

Sirius scrambled after him, heavy, clumsy, and tired. Nevertheless, he was not far behind as Yeff leaped from the top of the mound and down the other side. Sirius reached the top only a second later. There was no sign of Yeff. The cleared space went on behind the mound, level here and sprouting green things, for fifty yards or so, but it was utterly empty. Yeff was gone. If he had melted like the snow his coat resembled, he could not have vanished more completely.

Sirius hung his numbed tongue out of his cold, aching mouth and stared. Here was yet another mystery. And his one contact with the Zoi had gone. He could have flung his head back and howled. He looked up, hoping that Sol might have seen where Yeff went. Sol, however, was still under purple clouds. They had been spitting rain as Sirius ran up the mound. Now they poured in earnest, cold and stinging rain, hammering on the rubble and fizzing on the cinders. It was April, after all. But Sirius was fairly sure Sol was annoyed with him for wasting his time outside Patchie’s gate. He was seeing what cold water would do.

Sirius hated rain almost as much as he had hated that bath. He turned and ran. The spell Patchie had cast on him was broken anyway. Meeting Yeff had done that. As he ran, he cursed himself for losing Yeff, for annoying him in the first place, for going and losing his temper—for the whole thing. And he had such a short time before Kathleen carried him off to Ireland. Soaked, wretched and worn out, he climbed the steps to Miss Smith’s front door and battered on it in the place where he had already made quite a mark.

“I was just going to have my rest,” Miss Smith said, looking down at him. “My poor dog! What dripping misery! Come in at once. No—not in the kitchen. Shake in the hall where it doesn’t show. Do you like being rubbed with a towel? No? Very well, I shall put the towel on this chair.” Sirius, shivering, watched Miss Smith spread a large white towel on a shabby armchair. “This was Lass’s favorite chair,” she told him. “I think you’ll find it comfortable. It must be a better shape for dogs than it is for humans. Now you get into it and sleep off whatever it is that happened, and I’ll put the
electric fire here so it will dry you off. Don’t knock it, will you? And don’t disturb me for an hour or so, there’s a kind dog. I have to have my rest because these days I don’t sleep so well at night.”

Gratefully, Sirius climbed into the chair. It was a perfect fit. He thumped his tail and fell asleep, dripping gently on the threadbare carpet, while rain hammered and trickled on the windows of Miss Smith’s house.

About a quarter to four, the rain stopped. Sirius started up. He knew at once it was late. The clouds were so low and heavy still that he could not tell how late. He came out of the chair and whined. The house was quiet, except for Miss Smith’s noisy little clock which would only work lying on its face. He went out into the dark hall and tried to open the front door. But it had a round handle and he could not manage it. There was only one thing for it. He went, rather diffidently, upstairs to look for Miss Smith.

She was lying on the bed in the first room he came to, fast asleep and snoring a little, looking so tranquil that it seemed a shame to wake her. But Sirius did not know what else to do. He went and pushed his cold nose gently against her soft, wrinkled cheek. Miss Smith gave a little gasp and opened her eyes.

“Oh, it’s not Lass, of course! It’s Sirius. My dear, I’m sorry. I’ve been asleep for hours. It felt so peaceful with a dog in the house again. But you want to go, don’t you? I’m afraid I’m too sleepy to get up—so I’ll tell you a secret, Sirius. If you go into the kitchen and push the bottom of the back door, you’ll find it opens. It’s a dog-door I had made for Lass. And I’m sure a clever dog like you can manage the garden gate. Just tread on the latch, Sirius. It has a spring to close it.”

Sirius gently nosed his thanks to her and hurried away downstairs. Just as Miss Smith had said, the back door and the garden gate conveniently opened. He wished everyone was as understanding as Miss Smith.

Miss Smith lay back on her pillow, anxiously listening to his progress. She smiled when she heard the garden gate click. “Understood every word. I thought he would, bless him. But it looks late. He’ll be in trouble. If he doesn’t turn up tomorrow, I’ll know they’ve found he can get out.”

10

S
irius went home at a hasty canter. He knew as soon as he was outside that it was not quite as late as he had thought. But it was late enough. He had barely time to get back before Kathleen did. He galloped around the corner into the right street, almost skidding in his hurry, and found he was actually behind Kathleen. She was halfway up the street. He could get there. If he dived into the side street that led to the lane behind the yard, he could be in the yard with the gate shut and his collar on, and Kathleen would never know he had been out.

But Kathleen was in trouble. He could see she was. There was a gang of boys all around her, shouting things, and one kept trying to pull her hair. The sight of Kathleen being pushed and jostled all over the pavement was more than Sirius could take. He could not help it if he was found out. He trotted forward with his ears pricked to see what he could do.

There were six boys of several sizes. They were pinching and shoving Kathleen, and stamping in puddles so that she was showered
with muddy water. Sirius could see from Kathleen’s face that this had often happened to her and she had no way of stopping it.

“What’s at the bottom of an Irish milk bottle?” shrieked the smallest boy, who seemed to be Kathleen’s chief tormentor.

“Open other end!” roared the others, screaming with laughter and shoving Kathleen this way and that.

“How do you brainwash an Irishwoman?” yelled the first boy.

“Fill her boots with water!” screamed the others, stamping in puddles for all they were worth.

Sirius’s trot dropped to a crouching walk. He crept forward, growling softly. Perhaps it was the misery on Kathleen’s face, or perhaps it was that he had already lost his temper once that day, but he became angrier with every step. Too bad it was the smallest boy who was the worst. Sirius’s growl became a snarl. The boys were too busy shouting to hear him. As the smallest boy opened his mouth to ask what they put at the top of Irish ladders, Sirius lit to a green rage again and sprang.

The boys found themselves barged aside by something they thought was a raging lion. Its eyes blazed like green torches. It hit the smallest boy in the chest and knocked him over backwards. Then it stood on him, snarling, baring a set of huge white teeth and making his terrified face green with the light from its eyes.

“Leo!”
said Kathleen. It was half relief, half reproach, and very wobbly.

Sirius knew he must not upset her any further. He had to content himself with snarling around the ring of boys. Two green beams from his eyes flitted over them all. He was trying so hard not to bite
the boy he was treading on that foam dripped across his bared teeth and down from his open jaws. The boys backed away hurriedly. One of them slipped on the rainy pavement and sat down. Sirius hoped it hurt him.

“Go away,” Kathleen said shakily. “Leave me be, or I’ll set my dog on all of you.”

“Call that a dog!” said one of the boys. “That’s a beeping monster!”

Sirius stepped off the smallest boy and crawled slowly at the rest, growling ardently. They did not wait for him to reach them. Those on their feet ran. The other two scrambled up and pelted after them. Sirius bounded behind, his eyes blazing, blown up to twice his real size, barking as horribly as he knew how.

When he had chased them to the end of the street, he heard three voices calling him. “Leo!
Shamus!
RAT!” Reluctantly, Sirius left the chase and came trotting back. His coat settled down as he came, and by the time he reached Kathleen, his eyes were their normal green. Basil and Robin were with Kathleen.

“How did he get out?” Basil demanded.

“I don’t know,” Kathleen said shakily. “He—he was just there suddenly.” Sirius could see she was trying not to cry. He tried to go and comfort her, but Basil stopped him and rubbed his ears.

“You’re quite a good dog really,” he said.

“Yes, but we must get him in before Mum finds out,” Robin said.

The others anxiously agreed. They hurried Sirius in through the side door and left him in the living room while they all rushed out into the yard to see what had happened there. Tibbles was curled up on the sofa and looked up in surprise.

“You haven’t bolted the gate yet, have you?” Sirius asked her.

“Of course not,” she said. “You weren’t in. What’s happened? Did they find you in the road?”

“More or less,” said Sirius.

“Then I expect they’ll bolt the gate for us,” Tibbles said placidly and settled down to sleep again.

“Don’t go to sleep,” said Sirius. “I need to ask you—Those dogs, the ones Kathleen read about that are white with red ears—where do they come from?”

“Oh,” said Tibbles. “Them. I keep out of their way. They don’t usually hurt warm beasts like us. They mostly come out at night.”

“Where have you seen them?”

Before Tibbles could answer, Basil, Robin and Kathleen came back, loudly wondering who could have opened the yard gate. Kathleen was carrying Sirius’s collar. She took him away from Tibbles and pushed the collar firmly over his head.

“That was bad, Leo,” she told him.

“He slipped his collar. That’s obvious,” Basil kept saying. “But someone must have undone the gate for him. Who was it?”

Robin’s opinion was that it had been burglars. “Mum keeps clay and glaze and things in the shed. Could they have been after that?”

“Don’t be an idiot!” said Basil. “Who wants clay? And hold your tongue unless we find something’s missing.”

“You hold yours,” Robin retorted.

Neither of them did. They continued to discuss it whenever Duffie was not within hearing. Kathleen set about making supper. She was so pale and shaky still that Sirius kept close beside her, trying to comfort her. He hoped, very earnestly, that it would remain
an unsolved mystery who had opened the gate. He hoped Basil and Robin would forget about it soon.

Fate was against him. Later that evening, when the family was sitting around the television, there was a heavy knock at the side door. Basil went to answer it and came back looking very dismayed, and a strange man and a policeman came after him. It seemed that the boy Sirius had knocked over and the one who had sat down were brothers. When they were asked to explain their muddy clothes, they told their father that Kathleen had set a savage dog on them, which had bitten them and mauled them. The strange man was their father. He had gone to the police, and the policeman had come to investigate.

Kathleen said, “He did
not
bite them!” and burst into tears. Duffie looked at her, coldly and triumphantly, and then at Sirius. Sirius quailed. He had a sudden hopeless green memory of being on trial for his life. He felt quite as sick now.

“I think there must be some mistake,” said Mr. Duffield. “This dog
never
bites. He’s a most forbearing animal, or I wouldn’t keep him. And he spends all day tied tip in the yard.”

“Is this the animal?” said the policeman. “Not much of a house dog, is he, sir? I didn’t hear him bark.”

“He never barks either,” said Mr. Duffield. “That’s his other virtue.”

The policeman looked as if he did not think it was a virtue. Robin, who knew that it was usually the silent dogs that bit people, and suspected that the policeman knew it too, said quickly, “He’s used to people coming in and out of the shop, you see.”

“Ah,” said the policeman. “Is that it? Perhaps the little girl would give us her version of the episode.”

Kathleen could not speak for crying. She was afraid Leo was in mortal danger, and she knew he had looked very savage indeed. It had horrified her. And she could not bring herself to tell anyone how miserable those boys made her, day after day, and how relieved she had been to see Leo.

“There isn’t another version,” said the father angrily. “This girl set that great brute on my two lads. Ruined their clothes! The wife’s furious. It was a huge creature like a lion, they said, all fangs, with green eyes that lit up from inside. Are you sure that’s the dog?”

Everyone looked at Sirius. He wagged his tail bashfully and did his best to frown, so that his eyebrows shaded his eyes a little. “Well, his eyes are a sort of green,” the policeman said.

“It’s the only dog we’ve got,” Duffie said icily. “It’s the one you want all right.”

“Perhaps we could have your side of the story first,” the policeman said to Kathleen. But Kathleen still could not speak. “Anyone else here see anything?” asked the policeman.

Robin and Basil wriggled uncomfortably. They knew they had stood on the other side of the road letting a mere dog come to Kathleen’s rescue. Because Robin was the smaller, he was less ashamed than Basil. “Yes,” he blurted out. “I was across the road. There were six boys, all onto Kathleen, hitting her and calling names and things.”

“My boys wouldn’t do that,” said the father. “What had
she
done to them?”

“Nothing,” sobbed Kathleen. “They always do it.”

“Yes. I’ve seen them nearly every day,” Robin said, and then went scarlet because of the way Mr. Duffield was looking at him. “I told you, I was across the road,” he said.

“Were you too far away to hear what the—er—argument might have been about?” asked the policeman.

By this time, Basil’s face was mottled with shame. “No. We heard them. They were jeering at Kathleen for being Irish.” He went even more mottled, remembering how often he had done the same, but he went on, “And the Ra—er—the dog
didn’t
bite them. Kathleen didn’t even call him. He just came charging up and—er—defended her.”