Then off they all went again, chattering and shouting. When they came to the place where they meant to go nutting, they jumped off their bicycles, laid them on the grass, and ran to the trees.
‘Golly! I never in my life saw so many nuts before!’ cried Harry eagerly. ‘Just look at them! My word, they are beauties! Let’s pick some to have with our lunch, shall we? Then we can set to work properly after that, and fill our baskets.’
The boys plucked the clusters of nuts. What fine ones they were! Then they sat down and undid their packets of sandwiches and cake. How they enjoyed them! Most of them had brought something to drink as well. Then they ate their nuts. Harry had actually brought a pair of nut-crackers, which everyone voted a very clever thing to do. But some of the boys, who had very strong teeth, preferred to crack the nuts in their mouths.
‘All very well for you,’ said Harry, cracking his nuts with crackers. ‘But my teeth aren’t very good – and I’m not going to risk breaking them, I can tell you.’
After lunch the boys took up their baskets and went nutting. Some of them had sticks with crooked handles so that they might pull down the higher branches.
Harry went over the top of the hill. He gave a shout. ‘I say! The trees on this side are marvellous! What about picking some of the nuts from here?’
But the other boys were too busy picking from the other trees, so Harry went to join them. Johnny was doing a funny thing. He hadn’t a stick to pull down the high branches – so he fetched his bicycle, and propped it up against a nut tree, and now he was standing on the saddle so that he could reach the fine clusters above his head.
When he had picked all he could see, he left his bicycle under the tree and went to the top of the hill. He just wanted to see over, down the other side. And, of course, when he got there, he spied the trees that Harry had seen, so full of nuts that the branches hung almost to the ground. The hillside was very steep, and nobody had dared to risk getting the nuts from the trees there. So there were hundreds and hundreds.
Johnny forgot that he had been told not to pick nuts on the steep side of the hill. His eyes shone with delight as he thought of how he could fill his basket to the brim with enormous nuts. He began to climb down the steep side of the hill towards the clump of hazels.
The earth on the hillside was loose. Stones rolled down as Johnny scrambled along. Then he slipped and clutched at a tuft of grass. But the grass was not strong enough to hold him, and came out by the roots. Johnny fell headlong down the hill, bumping into rocks and stones as he went, trying to clutch at trees and bushes, but just missing them.
He fell with a crash to the bottom, hit his head on a stone, and then lay still, with his eyes closed. He had not shouted, because he had been too frightened, so the other boys did not know he had fallen.
Harry and the others picked nuts steadily. The boys were spread out well on the other side of the hill, and nobody missed Johnny. They all thought he was somewhere with them. It was only when it was time to go home that they missed him.
‘It’s four o’clock,’ said Harry. ‘We’d better be starting back. Let’s get our bikes. Anyway, we can’t possibly get any more nuts into our baskets or our pockets either!’
Every boy had his basket full, and his pockets too. They were very pleased with their afternoon’s work. They picked up their bicycles and were about to jump on them, when Harry looked all round in surprise.
‘Where’s Johnny?’ he said.
Johnny was certainly not with them. Harry shouted loudly, ‘Johnny! Johnny! We’re going now! Hurry up!’
There was no answer. Then Ronnie spoke in surprise. ‘He must have gone home, because his bike isn’t here! There are only our bikes – not Johnny’s. He must have slipped off before us.’
‘So he must,’ said Harry. ‘Well, what a funny thing to do! He might have waited! Come on. We must hurry now.’
Off went the boys, whistling and chattering, never knowing that Johnny’s bike was under a hazel tree where he had left it – and that Johnny himself was lying with his eyes still closed at the bottom of High-Over Hill. Nobody worried about him at all.
Nobody? Yes – there was somebody worrying dreadfully! And that was Shadow. Shadow loved Johnny so much that he knew when things were going wrong with him. And poor Shadow was sitting anxiously on the hillside at the farm, watching and watching for a boy who didn’t come. What was to be done about it?
Good Dog, Shadow
Shadow sat and waited, his eyes turned towards the lane down which Johnny should come. Rafe ran up to him.
‘What’s the matter? Why is your tail down?’
‘I’m unhappy,’ said Shadow. ‘I feel that something is wrong with Johnny. I know there is!’
Rafe knew what Shadow meant. He looked towards the lane too. ‘Maybe Johnny will come along soon,’ he said. ‘Perhaps his bicycle has broken.’
‘I wish Johnny wouldn’t go out without me,’ said Shadow. ‘I can look after him when I am with him.’
Rafe sat down to keep Shadow company. Dandy came up too, and the three dogs sat together in silence.
Then, at five o’clock, they saw Johnny’s mother come out of the farmhouse to look up the lane to see if Johnny was anywhere about.
‘Johnny! Johnny!’ she called. ‘Are you back yet?’
Will came by, carrying a pitchfork over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think Master Johnny’s home yet, Mam,’ he said. ‘He said he’d bring me my bicycle as soon as he got in, because I wanted it myself this evening – and he hasn’t come.’
‘Oh dear! I wonder what has happened,’ said Johnny’s mother anxiously. ‘It’s past tea-time now – and Johnny promised to be home.’
Shadow darted down the hill and ran up to Johnny’s mother. He looked up at her with dark, worried eyes.
‘So you are anxious too,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘What has happened to Johnny, Shadow? Can’t you find him for me?’
Shadow barked and then whined. If only he could find Johnny!
He ran to Rafe. ‘Where is High-Over Hill, where Johnny has gone?’ he asked. ‘Have I ever been there?’
‘No,’ said Rafe. ‘But do you remember where we once took some sheep to Farmer Langdon? Well, High-Over Hill is just past there – you can see it when you pass the farm – a great big hill sticking up into the sky.’
‘I shall find it,’ said Shadow. ‘But what a long way it is! Goodbye, Rafe. I don’t know when I shall be back.’
Shadow set off. He did not go the way that Johnny had gone, up the lane and along the road. No – Shadow knew the short-cuts among the hills. He ran along swiftly, smelling the well-known scents of rabbit, fox, weasel, hare, and stoat as he went. How he wished he could suddenly smell Johnny too!
It was a long way to Langdon’s farm, even by the short-cuts. But Shadow did not once think of being tired, although he had done a hard day’s work. All his mind was full of Johnny. He must find Johnny. He must, he must. He knew in his faithful heart that Johnny was in trouble. Something had happened to Johnny. He was sure of it.
He came at last to Langdon’s farm. The sun was setting. It would soon be dark. Shadow trotted quickly down the lane past the farm. He did not dare take the short-cut through the farmyard itself, because the farm-dogs would set on him. No dog allows another on his own farm without the farmer’s permission.
Some way ahead, outlined against the evening sky, was High-Over Hill. Shadow ran even more swiftly. Something told him that Johnny was there.
The dog ran up the slope of the hill – and suddenly his heart beat quickly. He could smell Johnny’s scent! Johnny had been there, no doubt about that.
The dog nosed about the trees – and suddenly he found Johnny’s bicycle, leaning against one of the hazels. He sniffed at it. Then he nosed about to find the boy’s footprints. He found plenty of them, leading here and there. Shadow followed them with his nose – and at last he found footprints leading to the top of the hill.
Shadow followed them. He came to where Johnny had begun
to climb down the hill – he came to where Johnny had slipped and fallen – and then, on the breeze, there came such a strong smell of Johnny that Shadow lifted his head and barked loudly:
‘Johnny! I’m here!’
And a feeble voice answered from the bottom of the hill: ‘Shadow! Oh, Shadow!’
Shadow leapt down that hill in a trice! He cared nothing for stones and rocks. Only one thing filled his heart and mind – he had found his beloved little master again. Johnny! Johnny!
In two seconds the big sheep-dog was beside the boy, licking his hands, his face, his legs, anywhere that he could find to lick. He whined as he licked Johnny, and the boy put both his arms round the big dog’s neck.
‘Oh, Shadow! I’m hurt and I’ve been so frightened and lonely here all by myself. Oh, Shadow, I did want you so! How did you find me? Shadow, don’t leave me.’
Shadow sat down beside Johnny. He was happy again now that he had found his master. But he was worried too. How could he get help for Johnny without leaving him? He couldn’t get anyone if he didn’t leave Johnny to fetch help. Yet the boy was so frightened and lonely. Shadow could not bear to leave him. His head was bleeding too. Shadow licked the bad place gently to make it clean. The boy curled up close to the dog for warmth, for he was very cold.
Shadow lay as close as he could. He could feel Johnny getting warmer and warmer. That was good. It was getting dark now. Shadow heard Johnny’s breathing and knew that he was asleep. Perhaps he could leave the boy for a short while and go to Langdon’s farm for help?
He slipped gradually away. Johnny was tired and still slept on. Shadow ran round the hill and went to the farm. The farm-dogs set up a tremendous barking. The farmer came into the yard to see what the noise was about. Shadow ran to him and tugged at his coat.
The farmer flashed his lantern down and saw the big sheep-dog. ‘Why, if it isn’t Johnny’s Shadow!’ he cried in amazement. ‘What do you want here, Shadow?’
Shadow barked and ran to the farm-gate. The farmer knew at once that the dog wanted him to follow. He went back to the farmhouse and fetched a coat. Then he set out behind Shadow.
‘Don’t go so fast!’ he called. ‘I can’t see my way as well as you can!’
But Shadow was impatient to get back to Johnny. Suppose the boy had awakened and had missed him? How upset he would be!
Soon he and the farmer were beside the hurt boy. Johnny awoke and shivered, puzzled to see the lantern shining down on him. Then he groaned because his head ached so badly.
‘Well, old son, so you’ve had a bit of a fall, have you?’ said Farmer Langdon. ‘I’ll carry you back to my farm. Your dog fetched me. Ah, he’s a marvel, that dog of yours!’
‘He found me,’ said Johnny. ‘Oh, I was glad when I heard him bark. It was the nicest sound in the world!’
The farmer carried the boy gently back to the farm. Mrs Langdon bathed his head and his ankle, which had been badly sprained. Then she telephoned to his mother to tell her what had happened.
‘We’ll keep him here tonight,’ she said. ‘He is quite all right now, except for a bad head and a swollen ankle. We’ve got Shadow here too.’
‘Shadow!’ said Johnny’s mother in astonishment. ‘How did he get there? He didn’t go with Johnny today.’
‘Well, he found him at the bottom of High-Over Hill,’ said Mrs Langdon. ‘He came to fetch my husband, and that’s how we got Johnny! He’s a wonderful dog.’
‘Dear old Shadow!’ said Johnny’s mother, her eyes full of tears. ‘I don’t know what we would do without him.’
Johnny stayed at the farm that night, and slept in the spare room there, with Shadow as usual stretched over his feet. It was the first time that Shadow had slept in another house, but he didn’t mind where he slept so long as he was with Johnny.
The boy was taken home the next day, and his mother hugged him. His father welcomed him too, and the boy told him how the accident happened.
‘I disobeyed you, Dad,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t mean to. I quite forgot what you had said about not going over the steep side of the hill. But I’ve been well punished for it. And if it hadn’t been for Shadow, I don’t know what would have happened to me!’
‘Good dog, Shadow!’ said Johnny’s father, and he patted the big dog. ‘Good dog! I’ll let you off your work for two or three days so that you can be with Johnny whilst he is getting better. Look after him, won’t you?’
Of course Shadow would! It was the thing he loved best in the world.
THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO
by Patrick Ness
The Knife of Never Letting Go is the first book in an amazingly inventive and exciting trilogy set in a terrifying future. Have you ever longed to be able to read someone’s thoughts to find out what they really think of you? In Patrick Ness’s New World all the men can read each other’s thoughts – but you realize this would be appalling and deafening and dangerous in real life. The hero Todd frequently has to endeavour to block his Noise, with little success. He’s in constant danger – but there are some wonderful funny or charming moments in the book too. Animals can talk, but not in long elaborate sentences. They retain all their animal qualities: the crickets cheep Sex sex sex, the sheep placidly baa Sheep sheep sheep, and the huge herd of extraordinary enormous cattle sing Here I am, here I am.
Todd’s dog Manchee frequently has very basic needs on his canine mind. Todd doesn’t always appreciate him at first, finding him irritating, but as the book progresses he realizes that Manchee is a wonderful, valiant friend. The Knife of Never Letting Go is easy to read, but I think you have to be quite grown up to deal with its subject matter. Soft-hearted animal lovers might find it unbearable!
THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO
‘We gotta stop,’ I say, dropping the rucksack at the base of a tree. ‘We gotta rest.’
The girl sets her own bag down by another tree without needing any more convincing and we both just sort of collapse down, leaning on our bags like pillows.
‘Five minutes,’ I say. Manchee curls up by my legs and closes his eyes almost immediately. ‘Only five minutes,’ I call over to the girl, who’s pulled a little blanket outta her bag to cover herself with. ‘Don’t get too comfortable.’
We gotta keep going, no question of that. I’ll only close my eyes for a minute or two, just to get a little rest, and then we’ll keep on going faster than before.
Just a little rest, that’s all.
I open my eyes and the sun is up. Only a little but ruddy well up.
Crap. We’ve lost at least an hour, maybe two.
And then I realize it’s a sound that’s woken me.
It’s Noise.
I panic, thinking of men finding us and I scramble to my feet—
Only to see that it ain’t a man.
It’s a cassor, towering over me and Manchee and the girl.
Food? says its Noise.
I knew they hadn’t left the swamp.
I hear a little gasp from over where the girl’s sleeping. Not sleeping no more. The cassor turns to look at her. And then Manchee’s up and barking, ‘Get! Get! Get!’ and the cassor’s neck swings back our way.
Imagine the biggest bird you ever saw, imagine it got so big that it couldn’t even fly no more, we’re talking two and a half or even three metres tall, a super long bendy neck stretching up way over yer head. It’s still got feathers but they look more like fur and the wings ain’t good for much except stunning things they’re about to eat. But it’s the feet you gotta watch out for. Long legs, up to my chest, with claws at the end that can kill you with one kick if yer not careful.
‘Don’t worry,’ I call over to the girl. ‘They’re friendly.’
Cuz they are. Or they’re sposed to be. They’re sposed to eat rodents and only kick if you attack ’em, but if you don’t attack ’em, Ben says they’re friendly and dopey and’ll let you feed ’em. And they’re also good to eat, a combo which made the new settlers of Prentisstown so eager to hunt ??
?em for food that by the time I was born there wasn’t a cassor to be seen within miles. Yet another thing I only ever saw in a vid or Noise.
The world keeps getting bigger.
‘Get! Get!’ Manchee barks, running in a circle round the cassor.
‘Don’t bite it!’ I shout at him.
The cassor’s neck is swinging about like a vine, following Manchee around like a cat after a bug. Food? its Noise keeps asking.
‘Not food,’ I say, and the big neck swings my way.
Food?
‘Not food,’ I say again. ‘Just a dog.’
Dog? it thinks and starts following Manchee around again, trying to nip him with his beak. The beak ain’t a scary thing at all, like being nipped by a goose, but Manchee’s having none of it, leaping outta the way and barking, barking, barking.
I laugh at him. It’s funny.
And then I hear a little laugh that ain’t my own.
I look over. The girl is standing by her tree, watching the giant bird chase around my stupid dog, and she’s laughing.
She’s smiling.
She sees me looking and she stops.
Food? I hear and I turn to see the cassor starting to poke its beak into my rucksack.
‘Hey!’ I shout and start shooing it away.
Food?
‘Here.’ I fish out a small block of cheese wrapped in a cloth that Ben packed.
The cassor sniffs it, bites it, and gobbles it down, its neck rippling in long waves as it swallows. It snaps its beak a few times like a man might smack his lips after he ate something. But then its neck starts rippling the other way and with a loud hack, up comes the block of cheese flying right back at me, covered in spit but not hardly even crushed, smacking me on the cheek and leaving a trail of slime across my face.
Food? says the cassor and starts slowly walking off into the swamp, as if we’re no longer even as interesting as a leaf.
‘Get! Get!’ Manchee barks after it, but not following. I wipe the slime from my face with my sleeve and I can see the girl smiling at me while I do it.