“What?” he said impatiently.
“When you come back,” Tibbles said, “you’ll find that side’s easier to open. You have to tread on the flat bit, then go away backwards so that the gate can open. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes. I think so.” Sirius did not like to tell her that he had no intention of coming back. He galloped off down the lane, flinging a glad good-by over his shoulder to Tibbles, and began the most marvelous day of his life.
His dog nature needed a free rein first. It cried out to examine every whiff and stink he passed, to raise its leg at every lamppost and corner, and to run up the pavement as it had seldom run before. When the joy of that subsided a little, Sirius remembered he had an errand. He turned and crossed the road.
Kathleen had tried to teach him about cars. Sirius did look to see that there was a gap to cross in. But only experience teaches you how fast a car can move. Hooters and brakes screamed. Sirius tore out from beneath the skidding wheels of one motorist, only to find another rushing at him from the other side. The second motorist only missed him because a sudden blaze of sunlight startled him into jerking his wheel to the right. Sirius, shaken to his green core, bolted into an alleyway opposite and lay down panting in its shadow.
“That was stupid of you,” Sol said, gilding the wall in front of him. “I’ll leave you to be squashed if you do that again.”
“Sorry,” panted Sirius.
“I should hope so!” said Sol. “Now listen. I’ve been checking up on the things that fell here last spring, and there are six that could be the Zoi. Four of them went down in Great Britain, and the other two in France. It does look more and more as if someone knew where to put you. It worries me. Start looking, won’t you?”
“I am looking,” said Sirius. He arose with great dignity and trotted purposefully off.
He honestly intended to search. But he had not realized until that day how big and how full of interest was the town where he lived. He kept having adventures. He met children in parks, cats on fences and women in shops. And outside the Town Hall he met two policemen.
The policemen sprang suddenly out of a car parked in front of the Town Hall and advanced purposefully on Sirius, one from either side.
“Here, doggie. Come here. Nice fellow,” said one.
Sirius looked up and saw at once they were trying to catch him. It must be because he had no collar. Behind them, traffic was thundering along the road. Sirius dared not dash across it after what Sol had said. He wondered whether to dash the other way, up the steps of the Town Hall, but a party of people were coming down them—people in dark clothes, with the smell of importance clinging to them. Unless he was very clever, he was going to be caught.
“Nice fellow,” said the policeman behind him. “Here!”
Sirius turned to him, his tail waving, his ears down, and his mouth open jovially. When he had put himself in a position from which he could see both policemen, he stopped and bent his elbows to the pavement, wagged his tail furiously and gave an encouraging bark.
“Thinks we’re playing,” said the first policeman.
Both policemen grabbed. Sirius dodged. They grabbed again, and he bounced away between them, barking delightedly. They moved far more slowly than Robin or Basil. Another bounce or so, and he would be able to make off down the nearest side street.
“What is it, Constable? A stray?” called the Lord Mayor from the steps. He was a dog-lover. “Can we help?”
“Well, if you could catch hold of him, sir—” said the first policeman. Both of them were sweating by now.
Most willingly, the Lord Mayor came down the steps. With him came the Town Clerk, the Borough Surveyor, three Councilors, and the Lord Mayor’s chauffeur. Sirius suddenly found himself having to dodge a whole crowd of people. He dodged and he bounced and he barked, and he led them in a mad dance down the pavement. They got in one another’s way, Sirius was able to dash off down a side road, barking excitedly, looking as if he thought this was the greatest game of his life. In a way it was. He was laughing widely as he collapsed to rest behind a row of dustbins. He had never had such fun.
The dustbins smelled most fetchingly. All this running had made Sirius ravenous. He got up and tracked the fetching smell to the third dustbin along. It was a measure of how much he had learned that interesting morning, that he had no difficulty at all in prizing the lid off it. Inside, wrapped in newspaper, were the remains of a fried chicken. Sirius took it out and nosed aside the paper. The chicken was already in his mouth, when an old lady, attracted by the clang of the lid on the roadway, came hobbling down the steps of her house.
“Leaver,” she said sternly.
Sirius looked up at her, hardly able to credit it.
“Drop it!” she commanded. “You heard me.” When Sirius did nothing but stare, the old lady seized the chicken and wrenched it from his mouth. Sirius growled and tried to hang on. “No you don’t!” said the intrepid old lady. She was so fierce that Sirius stopped growling and watched hopelessly while the old lady put the chicken back in the dustbin and rammed the lid on. He could not help whining a little at that. “Oh no,” said the old lady. “Not chicken bones, and not out of dustbins. I’m not going to stand by and see a nice dog like you ruin his insides. Don’t you know chicken bones splinter? You’d die in agony, dog. Come with me and I’ll find you something else.”
She turned and began to hobble back up her steps. Sirius climbed up behind her, rather interested. Indoors, she limped to a tiny kitchen and opened a very small refrigerator.
“Let’s see,” she said. “Not a pork chop, I think. But here’s a bit of stewing beef you can have. Here.” She handed over a succulent lump. It vanished at once. “I can’t think why you dogs never wait to taste anything,” the old lady said. “Would you like some cake? It’s bad for teeth, but it’s better than chicken.” Sirius pranced beside her eagerly to a small cupboard. He was given nearly half a big currant cake. “Better now?” asked the old lady.
Sirius showed her he was by wagging his tail and nosing her twisted old hand. The twisted old hand turned and stroked his ears like an expert. Even Kathleen did not stroke ears so well. “You’re a beauty,” said the old lady. “I lost my dog a year ago. I’d love to keep you, but I can see you’re well cared for. Slipped your collar, naughty dog. I bet you belong to some little girl who’d break her heart if she lost you. Yes. Surprised you, didn’t I?” she said, as Sirius stared at her. “I know dogs. My Lass used to understand English too. Now, I’m going to let you out and you’re to go home. Understand?”
Sirius understood perfectly. He felt extremely guilty as he set off trotting in quite the opposite direction. But he had to be free to find that Zoi.
He came to an area of little houses in a tight crisscross of small streets near the river. The river was dark and slimy. Sirius did not care for it. He went swiftly away from it, up the nearest street, and heard paws excitedly bang on a wooden gate he was passing. Some dog whined:
“Hey! I say! Hallo, hallo, hallo!”
Sirius stopped. It was a gate to a yard a little smaller than his own, and nothing like such a high one. There was wire netting nailed across the bottom of the gate, and more wire netting above it and above the fence beyond, making this yard even more of a prison than his own. Feeling very sympathetic, Sirius lay down and looked through the lower netting. The other dog lay down at the same moment. They stared at one another, nose to nose. Sirius’s tail arched in astonishment. It was almost like looking in a mirror. This was a bitch, and she had soft brown eyes, but she had the same creamy, feathery coat, and the same red ears. She was very handsome.
“Who are you?” said Sirius. “Why do you look like me?”
“Who are you? I’m Patchie. Hallo, hallo, hallo,” said the other dog.
“Hallo,” he said. “They call me Leo.”
“Hallo, Leo. Hallo, hallo!” said she.
“Don’t you say anything else but Hallo?”
“What else is there
to say? Hallo, hallo.”
“There are all sorts of other things to say. Do you find it very boring, shut up in that yard?”
“Why should I?” she said, in some surprise. “Hallo.”
“Oh well,” said Sirius. “You don’t happen to know what a Zoi is, do you?”
“No,” she said. “A bone? Hallo. Who’s your master?”
“I haven’t got a master. A girl called Kathleen takes care of me.”
“Poor you!” said Patchie. “My master’s called Ken. He’s lovely!”
It suddenly dawned on Sirius that this was the most stupid creature he had ever encountered. He hoisted himself to his feet, bitterly disappointed. “I must go.”
“Come back tomorrow. Good-by, good-by, good-by!” said Patchie.
No fear! thought Sirius, and trotted off.
Two gates farther on, there was another creamy dog with red ears. He leaped and whined and hurled himself at his netting. “Hallo, hallo! I saw you go down and I hoped you’d come back. Hallo, hallo. I’m Bruce. Hallo.”
“Hallo,” Sirius said politely, and passed on.
Farther up the street, there were two more cream and red dogs, Rover and Redears, and they, too, were uncannily like Sirius. Sirius was bewildered. No other dogs he had met looked like this. “Why do you look like me?” he asked Redears.
“Oh hallo, hallo, hallo!” Redears answered. “Because we’re both dogs, I suppose. Hallo.”
“Don’t any of you ever say anything but Hallo?” Sirius said, quite exasperated.
“Of course not. That’s what dogs say,” said Redears. “Hallo.”
Sirius wanted to tell him to go and get lost in a tin of cat food, but he supposed Redears could not help being stupid. He said good-by politely and went on. Now I know what Basil means when he calls people morons, he thought. What idiots!
A little farther on, the crisscross streets were being knocked down. Sirius spent some time watching bulldozers plow heaps of bricks about. Some men in yellow helmets made a fuss of him and gave him a ham sandwich. They seemed to think he was one of the four moronic hallo-dogs.
“Here! Isn’t this your Bruce got out again?” one of them shouted to the man in the bulldozer.
“No,” bellowed the man. “Must be Rover or Redears. Can’t tell them apart.”
While they were bawling to one another, Sirius slipped off and came to a wide cindery place where all the houses had been cleared away. It ended in a part which had evidently been knocked down, but not cleared, some years before. There were big heaps of rubble, with bare bushes and small trees sprouting from them. The bricks and cinders were covered with white grass and the dry stalks of tall weeds.
As Sirius pushed his way through, he felt a tingle. It was more than a smell, bigger than a feeling. It was tingling, living, huge. He froze, with his head up. Only a Zoi could feel like that. It must be the Zoi. But the tingle was gone as he froze. Sirius strained nose, ears, everything, to catch it again. But there was nothing. Perhaps the wind had changed. Sirius ran to and fro, casting for the scent, or feeling, or whatever it was, almost frantic. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. He seemed to have lost the Zoi the moment he found it. Despairingly, he looked up at Sol.
Sol was much lower down the sky than he expected. Another anxiety came over Sirius. “What time is it?”
“Half past three Greenwich,” said Sol. “What’s the matter?”
For a moment, Sirius felt he was being torn in two. The Zoi was here somewhere. He knew it was. But Kathleen would be home from school just after four. He had barely time to get back. He turned and set off trotting fast in what his dog sense told him was the way home. “The Zoi,” he said over his shoulder to Sol. “It’s somewhere quite near. But I can’t stay.” He was angry with himself. The dog in him had cheated his green nature by lying cunningly low until the last moment. It had intended to go home all the time. “I can’t help it!” he told Sol angrily.
“Of course not,” said Sol. “You can come here tomorrow. I’ll try and trace the thing which fell nearest here.”
7
Like the wind, and straight as a die, Sirius made for home. He passed a number of people on the way who tried to stop him and talk to him. “Here, boy. Nice dog.” But Sirius was in too much of a hurry to attend. He went straight past their inviting hands without pausing or turning aside. He crossed roads, quickly but carefully. By the time he reached the lane behind the yard, Sol was behind the houses, at least another half hour down, and Sirius was almost too tired and puffed to trot.
“There you are at last!” said Tibbles.
Sirius looked up to see her, and Romulus and Remus, sitting in an anxious huddle on the wall by the gate. He was astonished—and touched and pleased—to see they had all been worrying about him. Then he was alarmed. “Has Duffie noticed I was gone?”
“Not she,” said Remus.
“Kathleen’s coming down the street in front,” said Romulus.
Sirius did not have time to think how to undo the latch. He simply upped and trod on it, and sprang away backwards, hoping. The gate swung open. Sirius stumbled wearily inside.
“Shut it,” said Tibbles. “Unless you want that collar tightened.”
Groaning, Sirius faced the gate and wondered how he could shut it. The latch was within reach of his mouth. He could only try. He put his teeth around the unpleasant oily rusty-tasting metal and dragged backwards. The gate swung, and clicked shut. “Thank goodness for that!” Sirius made for his collar, lying at the end of its rope. If he had had time to think how to get it on, he would probably not have been able to do it. But he was in such a panic that his green intelligence swept aside his dog stupidity. Without thinking, he lay down, propped the empty collar between both front paws, put his head into it and pushed. Then he keeled over on his side, wanting only to sleep, and rather thinking he might die.
But there was no time to sleep, or to die either. Kathleen was there the next minute, undoing the rope, “There, Leo. I hope you weren’t too lonely. Walk!”
He was forced to stagger off to the meadow for a walk. His paws hurt, his legs ached, his back ached. He became convinced he was dying. He waded miserably into the river, and, when that failed to soothe his aches, he sat on the bank with his head hanging and eight inches or so of purplish tongue dangling from his jaws.
“Oh dear!” said Kathleen. “Leo, I don’t think you’re well.”
She brought him home. He fell on the hearthrug with a thump and went straight to sleep.
“Robin, something’s wrong with Leo,” said Kathleen. “I think he’s ill.”
“Distemper, perhaps?” said Robin. He and Basil rolled Sirius about, shouting, “Wake up, Shamus! Rat!” They woke Sirius up. He groaned piteously, to show them he needed to be left in peace to die, and fell asleep again. “Leave him,” said Basil. “He may sleep it off.”
Sirius slept until Kathleen’s bedtime, and only a strong sense of duty roused him then. He staggered to the kitchen, where he ate and drank hugely. Then he limped upstairs after Kathleen, wanting only to go to sleep again. Kathleen saw that playing games was out of the question. She read him the story of Bluebeard instead. Sirius could hardly keep his eyes open.
“Silly fool!” said Tibbles, stepping delicately in through the window.
“Yes. I’ll know another time,” said Sirius. Then he fell asleep and, to Tibbles’s disgust, he snored and twitched. He dreamed he was out in the street again, running with four dogs just like himself.
To Kathleen’s relief, Leo was quite restored in the morning. He bounded willingly out into the yard and did not seem to mind being tied up at all. “You are a good dog,” she said, and she hugged him uncomfortably before she left. As soon as she was well away, Sirius sprang up and slipped his collar off. He found that Tibbles had prudently bolted the bottom bolt on the gate again, but that was no trouble now. It went back with one swipe of his paw. He used his nose to lift the latch. Now he knew the Zoi was somewhere near, he told himself he
would take things more steadily and search until he had found it.
As he was shutting the gate, Sol stepped up above the house. “You must be right,” he said. He seemed irritable. Fierce little spurts of light shot from him. “Something did fall in this area somewhere. But it’s very odd. I just can’t see it—and I can see every stone and every blade of grass.”
“Could it have gone into the ground?” asked Sirius.
“It must have done,” said Sol. “So I can’t think why Earth hasn’t noticed it. It came down with a big enough thump. Yet there’s no damage. Is a Zoi something very small and dense?”
Sirius sat down and tried to marshal vague green memories. What was a Zoi like? The trouble was, it was something he had used every day for long ages, and it had become so familiar that he had barely noticed it. “I don’t think it was always the same,” he said doubtfully. “I—I can’t describe it.”
Sol spurted spiky annoyance. “You’re worse than the rest of them! Think, can’t you!”
“I can’t,” said Sirius. The warm dog thoughts sat just behind his eyes again, and he felt miserably stupid. “But I’d know it when I saw it.”
“Don’t droop like that,” said Sol. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault I was sharp. I’ve been having a rather annoying time trying to find out about Zoi. Everyone tells me something different. The only thing they agree on is that I seem to have had a narrow escape. The thing must have gone right past me. They say I was lucky not to have my sphere go nova.”
“Oh, no,” Sirius said, out of his green memories, without having to think. “Whoever told you that didn’t know much about Zoi. They can’t act unless someone has hold of them.”
“Ah,” said Sol. His spurting plumes floated thoughtfully down around him. “Then the rumor that you flung this Zoi at that luminary is out, isn’t it? Do you think you can get on and find it before the wrong kind of person lays hold of it? I’ve no wish to have my sphere go nova.”
Sirius wondered who Sol had been talking to. He found himself bristling with queer suspicions. “What are you getting at?”
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