Free The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams Page B

—one, two—of drawn bolts. Rowf's big shape reappeared, black and bristling, backing away from a man in a brown dressing-gown and felt slippers, his face bearded white with shaving-soap. As Rowf stood his ground the man stooped, picked up a stone from the flowerbed and flung it. Rowf ran back through the gate and rejoined Snitter in the road.
    "I'd have fought him—I'd have bitten his ankle—"
    "Oh, go and bite a policeman!" said Snitter. "Bite a postman, go on! You would spoil it, wouldn't you? It's not the right way, Rowf!"
    "That bin—there was food wrapped up in paper packets, like the tobacco man's—"
    "You should have put yourself in and shut the lid down. Why ever did I go to the trouble of getting you out? You've got treat men properly, Rowf, if you want—Did he hit you with that stone?"
    "No, or I'd have gone for him. I tell you—"
    "Oh my dam, this chicken-wire round my head!" cried Snitter suddenly. "I'm blind! I'm blind!"
    He flung himself down on the road, clawing and grabbing at his head, which jerked back and forth horribly, like that of a clockwork toy.
    "The flies—the flies are going to eat me! The road's black and white—the lorry's coming, the lorry's coming, Rowf!"
    Rowf, pressed against the garden wall, watched helplessly as Snitter got up, staggered slowly to the other side of the road and once more fell down. He was about to follow him over when he heard the sound of an approaching car. As it came closer he slunk back into the gateway.
    The car slowed down and stopped. The driver remained at the wheel while his passenger, a young man in fell boots, a blue roll-necked jersey, anorak and yellow woollen cap, got out and stood beside the car, looking down at Snitter in the road.
    "Reckon it's took badly, Jack. Bin roon over, d'ye think?"
    "Nay, not roon over, it's bin to't vet, look, has that. Yon dressing on it head. Oughter be kept close soom-wheers, bi rights, ought that. Moosta got out."

    The young man went up to Snitter who, with closed eyes, was lying limply on his side.
    Murmuring gently and reassuringly, he extended a closed fist towards his nose. Snitter half opened his eyes, sniffed at his knuckles and wagged his tail feebly.
    "It's got this green collar, Jack, but nowt on it— nobbut a noomber. It cann't have coom far, it's that bad. Let's joost put it int' back of car, like, to get it off rooad, and then I'll assk at woon of t'ouses.
    Happen soomun'll know whose 'tis."
    He bent down and lifted Snitter in his arms. In the same moment Rowf hurled himself across the road and leapt for his throat. The driver gave a cry of warning and the young man, dropping Snitter just in time, flung up his left arm, which Rowf's teeth seized below the elbow of the anorak. As the young man staggered back, the driver leapt out of the car and began beating at Rowf's head with a pair of heavy driving-gloves. Snitter, yelping from his fall, was already twenty yards up the road when Rowf released his grip and dashed after him, leaving the driver rolling up his friend's sleeve and searching his pockets for an iodine pencil.
    "I told you, Snitter, I told you! You think you know everything about men. I told you—"
    "They were all right—they were masters. It was my head—all on fire—I couldn't see—"
    "They were whitecoats—surely you know that? They were going to take you away, take you back—Snitter, are you all right?"
    "I think—yes—I think so." Snitter sat down and looked doubtfully about him. "I wish the mouse would come back. I never know what to do without him."
    "There are more houses further along this road—see them?" said Rowf. "That's one lot the men haven't taken away, anyhow—or not yet. Let's go down there—you'll feel better once we get among some houses."
    "That cairn—Dusker—he was dead, you know," said Snitter. "I saw the tobacco man take his body out of the pen last night. He lay down, same as me—"
    "When did he die?"
    "You weren't there. I think it must have been