Free Dingo: The Dog Who Conquered a Continent by Jackie French

his world with. He only had a dog.
    But where was she?
    He looked out into the darkness, hoping to hear her claws on the rock, or at least her howl in the distance. There was plenty of snake meat for both of them — lots of bones for a rubbish dog to chew for days.
    But no dog appeared out of the darkness now. He was really alone.

CHAPTER 37
Loa
    The dog didn’t appear the next day, or the one after that either. More of the strange hopping animals arrived, big ones like the one he had seen first and small ones. He studied them with a hunter’s eyes. They stood still and vulnerable as they ate the newly shooting grass. They looked like good meat — hunter’s meat. But they moved quickly whenever he was near. He’d need two good legs if he was to get close. He suspected it might need more than one hunter to get close enough to spear one too.
    Once again he searched for the dog, calling, though in his heart he knew there was no use.
    So much could happen to a rubbish dog. A crocodile could take one — he’d seen croc tracks by their new camp too: at least one big one and a few smaller. She might have been bitten by a snake. If either had happened there was little chance of finding the dog alive.
    He missed her. It wasn’t just that she was familiar — nor just that she’d saved his life. Somehow, in the past few weeks, the dog had become a sort of person. Independent, intelligent, quietly companionable — thesort you’d want for a friend, whether they had two legs or four.
    Now she was gone.
    He sat by the campfire, the bones and scraps he hadn’t wanted to eat making a smelly pile that attracted the flies. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel this alone.
    At last he banked down the fire with a couple of damp swamp logs that would smoulder till dawn. He lay down on the smoothed dirt, the stones now raked away, the rock behind him warmed by the fire. Once again thunder muttered in the distance.
    It would rain before morning. He shut his eyes and slept.
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    He woke to the sight of a gold shadow at the corner of his camp, nosing at the pile of scraps. He yelled and sat up. ‘Dog!’
    He grabbed his spear to help himself to his feet. The dog grabbed a hunk of cooked snake and sprang from the ledge. He watched her scramble down the hill and vanish into the rocks and trees beyond.
    What was wrong with her? Had he offended her? No — you couldn’t offend a rubbish dog! It was like saying you could insult a pig or a cuscus.
    Was she suddenly scared of him? Why would she be? He hadn’t done anything new or different. She had watched him use his new spear for days without fear; she’d known that spearing animals meant food for her.
    And yet she’d gone.
    He sat to think about it. He knew more about pigs than rubbish dogs. Why bother studying rubbish dogs? Rubbish dogs were just … there. They cleaned up the scraps; they were good for food if there was nothing else; and they helped little boys play at being hunters.
    Had she found a pack of dogs to join? He hadn’t heard any dog howls, except for hers. If any dog had heard her it would have howled back, unless the dogs here were silent.
    No. He’d have seen a pack’s tracks. There had been many strange tracks, but only one set of dog paw prints — hers.
    Where had she gone?
    He’d wait, he decided. She obviously still wanted his leftovers. He’d bring back a couple of fruit bats as soon as it was light — she loved the crunch of their brittle bones.
    He was a hunter, wasn’t he? Even with a bad knee he could track a dog.
    He’d be waiting when she came again.

CHAPTER 38
Loa
    She came at dusk, a shadow among shadows. The air greyed around her. Somehow she had become a grey dog; the sunlight-gold of her coat had seeped away with the daylight.
    She didn’t look at him, though she must have known he was there. It was almost as though she thought that if she