The haunted hound; (18 page)

''And that's all I'd do in the house, just sleep."

'That's going to be fun!" Judy said. Then, suddenly, her face got sad. 'The only thing bad is about your father, Jonathan. You won't really be running away, but he won't know that. Isn't it going to make him sad not to have you living with him any more?"

Jonathan frowned. "That worries me, too. But Dad's sort of funny. Sort of, well, far away. And he works so hard that e\'en Dr. Norfleet told him he'd better stop working so hard. So he's tired when he comes home. He just eats and goes into his den and works some more or goes to bed."

"Doesn't he talk to you or go places with you?"

"W^ell," Jonathan said, "he talks to me whenever he sees me, and we go to the movies sometimes. And, if it's a real good show and he hasn't got any work to do, he'll watch the television, but he generally goes to sleep."

"How long would it take him to find out that you'd run away?" she asked.

"Well, he goes off on a lot of trips. He's on one now. If Mrs. Johnson or Mamie didn't tell him, he might not find out for a week or so. Maybe a month."

"Gosh," Judy said, "he's not like my mother. If she doesn't know where I am for five minutes at a time she starts to jump up and down."

"Well," Jonathan said, thinking hard about his father, "Dad's all right. Only he works hard and, after all, I'm a

boy. Boys don't need to be looked after as much as girls/'

''Who says so?" Judy demanded.

''Anyway, that's what grownups think/' Jonathan told her.

Judy agreed. Then she asked, "But when he does find out you've gone, what'll he do?"

Jonathan thought about it, wondering. Then he said, "It's going to hurt him, Judy/'

"Will he get mad at you?"

"No. I don't think so. Just sort of sad, I guess."

"I hate to make people sad," Judy said.

"Me, too. Suppose, though, I left him a letter telling him why I had to go? I'd tell him that it wasn't because I didn't love him or anything like that, but just because of Pot Likker. And that I was all right, and all?"

"He might understand that," Judy agreed. "He used to have dogs, so he knows about how they are."

"I'll do that. When we get back tomorrow, I'll go get some clothes and things and leave him a letter."

Before Judy could answer Mr. Worth came out on the sand bar.

When he saw Pot Likker, he stopped and stared. Then he came on a few more steps. "Well, I be doggone," he said. "Pot Likker!"

Pot Likker only glanced at him and wagged his tail a little.

They told Mr. Worth what had happened and how Pot Likker had come back when Jonathan called him.

''Don't you think he's decided to be Jonathan's dog?" Judy asked.

''Looks hke it," Mr. Worth agreed. "But there's a way to tell for sure."

He had brought some thick, juicy steaks back with him. He unwrapped them now and took one of them and gave it to Jonathan. "Let Pot Likker get a good smell of that and then throw it as far away as you can," Mr. Worth told him.

Jonathan let Pot Likker smell the steak and even lick it. Then he threw it almost back to the woods.

"Tell him to go eat it," Mr. Worth said.

Jonathan patted Pot Likker and said, "Go eat. Pot."

Pot Likker was drooling at the mouth as he raced across the sand and grabbed the steak. He held it down with his two front paws and began tearing off pieces of it.

Mr. Worth waited until Pot Likker had swallowed one piece. "Now call him back, Jonathan."

Jonathan felt everything getting tense around him, and he knew that, again, a lot depended on what Pot Likker was going to do when he called him. If he didn't come, maybe he wasn't really Jonathan's dog. Then, Jonathan realized, he wouldn't have to run away. But he wanted Pot Likker to come.

"Here, Pot Likker. Here!" Jonathan called.

Pot Likker gulped another piece of steak, and slowly looked around at Jonathan.

''Come here, Pot Likker/' he said sternly and beckoning with his hand.

Pot Likker stood up. Then, with his head and tail drooping, he walked all the way back to Jonathan.

Mr. Worth blew softly between his teeth as Jonathan patted Pot Likker and told him he was a good dog.

''Go get it, Pot,'* Jonathan said, giving the hound a little push.

Pot Likker's tail almost knocked Jonathan oflF the log as he went back for the steak.

"That's the dangedest thing I ever saw in my life/' Mr. Worth said. "Now, Judy, it would take me and you six months to train a hungry dog to leave a steak when we called him. Yes, sir, Jonathan, that's your dog all the way through. And you ought to be mighty proud, boy. Old Pot Likker's a thoroughbred dog, a pure foxhound with as fine ancestors as they make. When a dog like that gives himself to a man, that man has a right to be proud.'*

"I am proud," Jonathan said. Then he looked secretly at Judy. She nodded.

Jonathan knew then that he was going to have to run away.

It began to rain before they had finished eating the two steaks that were left. Mr. Worth looked up at the sky and frowned. "Coon hunting in the rain is about as miserable a way to spend time as any I know of," he said. "But if you two want to try it, we can do it."

Jonathan, whose mind was working out the details of what he had to do, was glad to start home now instead of tomorrow.

''Let's go, Uncle Dan,'' Judy said.

Mr. Worth stood up. ''I was scared you were going to say let's keep on."

They gathered up their gear and blankets, kept Slewfoot and Strive on leashes, and left the river, heading toward the highway. "Ma\be we can hitch a ride," Mr. Worth said.

They reached the highway at Eb Smith's filling station just as it started raining really hard.

The bear, tied now with a length of plow chain, was keeping dr}^ in his little house, just his snout poking out. Jonathan waved to the bear as he ran past and into the shelter of the filling station.

In a little while a truck came by and gave them a lift. Since the truck was going on to the city, Jonathan and Pot Likker didn't get out at the Farm.

''Come back soon," Mr. Worth said as he started running through the rain.

Jonathan looked at Judy. ''I will," he said.

Judy whispered, 'Til unlock the door for you."

With Pot Likker in the front seat with him and the driver, they went on through the rain.

Jonathan sneaked Pot Likker through the basement of the apartment and then took him up with him in the service ele\'ator.

Jonathan was glad now that he had taken time to find his key just before he met the bear.

No one was liome, and the air smelled stale from being shut up for three days. In the kitchen Jonathan found a hunk of roast beef for Pot Likker and then made himself some peanut-butter sandwiches.

As he changed into dry clothes, he could see that Pot Likker didn't like being in the apartment. He wandered into all the rooms, looked out the windows, and scratched at the front door to get out.

Jonathan packed a suitcase with what he would need, then added food from the kitchen. When he was ready to go, he went into his father's study.

With Pot Likker sitting on his haunches watching, Jonathan slowly wrote the letter.

Dear Dad:

I have to go away now because a dog has decided he wants to be my dog and nobody else's. If I don't go away so I can take care of him, he'll die.

Where I am going is a nice place and I will get plenty to eat and plenty of sleep and rest. I will take good care of myself.

Because I am going away does not mean that I do not love you or anything like that, Dad.

Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself fine and my dog will not let anything hurt me.

Good-by, Dad,

Your son Jonathan.

Jonathan felt choked as he folded the piece of paper and put it into an envelope. On the envelope he wrote FOR MY FATHER in big letters and propped it up against the two pens.

As he looked at it, he remembered how he had propped the report card in the same place, with the red F's so bright. It seemed now such a long, long time ago. So much had happened to him.

Jonathan knew then that he was scared. As he thought about it, the world beyond the apartment door seemed so dark and rainy and big.

But when he looked down at Pot Likker he knew that he had to go.

Jonathan picked up the suitcase. ''Come on. Pot,'' he said, whispering, ''we're going now/'

Down on the street it was dark with the cars swishing by in the rain and the people swishing, too, leaning forward and hunched up.

Jonathan made Pot Likker walk right at his heels all the way to the bus station. At the ticket window he asked for a ticket to Millersville for himself and Pot Likker.

"No dogs allowed on the busses," the man said.

"He has to go with me," Jonathan explained to him.

"Not on the bus he doesn't."

Jonathan took his money back and turned away.

In the freight yard he found out that Mr. Duncan's train had already left.

*'A11 right, Pot Likker," Jonathan said, patting the hound's wet head, 'Sve'll walk."

Out on the highway it was better. It was dark with rain and there weren't many cars. Pot Likker could run around on the right of way or follow along with Jonathan without danger.

Rain trickled down the collar of Jonathan's raincoat and the suitcase got heavier and heavier.

At first time went slowly. He would look at his watch and it would be half-past something. Then, a long time later, he'd look again and it would be thirty-five minutes past.

But as he walked on and on time began to go faster. Then it was midnight.

.90

CHAPTER . SIXTEEN

^0"

T:

he house was just a gray splotch showing among the dark, wet pine trees. As Jonathan and Pot Likker walked up the driveway, the gravel made a soft, crunchy noise under Jonathan's shoes and a wet rattling as Pot Likker's toes scattered it.

"We're home, Pot Likker/' Jonathan said, reaching the porch steps.

Pot Likker seemed happy as he dashed up the steps.

Under the shelter of the roof Jonathan got the flashlight out of the suitcase and cautiously shone it on the front door. He turned the knob and pushed, and the high, wide door slowly swung open.

On the floor in the middle of the hall there was a little collection of things. Pot Likker sniffed at them and began to paw something wrapped in paper.

''Hey," Jonathan said, ''leave that alone. Pot.''

Judy had left two white candles, a box of matches, some sliced bacon, a little wicker basket half full of eggs, and a loaf of bread.

There wsls also a note from her.

Dear Jonathan:

I couldn't find any sheets or anything so you can sleep on the horse blanket. The lights won't turn on. Do not feed Pot Likker any bread. It is not good for dogs' skins. I will come back in the morning. The water runs all right.

Yours truly, Judith Worth Shelley.

Farther down the hall there was a striped horse blanket spread out on the floor.

Jonathan changed into dry clothes and wiped Pot Likker with an old shirt.

When Jonathan first lay down on the blanket, he didn't think he could sleep for the strong smell of horses. Pot Likker must have objected to it, too, for he walked around it three or four times before he would lie down on it.

In thirty seconds they were both asleep.

When Jonathan woke up, he didn't know where he was. When he opened his eyes, the ceiling was too high to be the one in his room at the apartment. And when he turned his head, he saw two brown legs laced with old briar scratches.

Jonathan sat upright on the horse blanket and looked around. Judy was standing there, her pants legs rolled up. Pot Likker was in the open front door looking out at the sunshine.

Jonathan found that he was stiff when he tried to get up. ''That's the hardest horse blanket I ever slept on."

Judy nodded. ''We'll have to find some kind of mattress

or something. Come on, we'll cook some breakfast."

In the kitchen they started a fire in the range and Judy broke some eggs into the frying pan.

'What about the smoke, Judy?'' he asked.

"I was worried about that, too. But I don't think anybody can see it. There're all those high pines between here and Uncle Dan's house and he's the only one we've got to be careful with."