Читать книгу Rascal: Swept Beneath The Waters - Chris Cooper - Страница 8

CHAPTER 2

Rascal gave them a reassuring lick, but that wasn’t what these puppies wanted. Their whimpers became more urgent. The sound could mean only one thing: they were hungry. They needed food right away.

That was a feeling Rascal knew only too well. He looked up at the town that lay just beyond the park. If he went there to try to find some food for these puppies, he might be seen and caught. And if that happened, he might never get to see Joel again.

And yet . . . He looked down at the three little puppies. The biggest and most adventurous of them, the one that had been poking its nose out of the bag, was rubbing its head against Rascal’s front leg.

How could he leave them like this? They seemed completely helpless. It was impossible to say how long they would survive without food.

There was nothing for it. Rascal nudged the bigger puppy back inside and did his best to close the bag up. Then he ran towards the town ahead, his extra burst of speed making him realise how tired and hungry he was himself.

Rascal didn’t cross the bridge. Instead, he explored the alley behind a row of shops on this side of the river. Between two of them sat a large grey bin. It was stuffed full of rubbish and there were several other black plastic bags on the ground next to it.

He sniffed at the bags and his nose was attacked by a jumble of different food smells. Most of them weren’t very appealing – at least not to Rascal’s nose – but through all the bad smells he could tell there was meat somewhere. He sniffed again and identified which bag the good smell was coming from. He pawed at it. When this didn’t help, he took hold of the plastic with his teeth and pulled. The bag ripped open and spilled its contents.

The good smell was coming from a big flat box that Rascal now pushed open with his snout. It contained several slices of old pizza with round bits of cooked meat on them.

The hunger in his own belly sprang to life. It had been a long time since Rascal had eaten . . . too long. He took a bite from one of the slices. The meat was too spicy and the base was stale, but his stomach was still grateful.

He was just finishing the last of the slice of pizza when the back door to one of the buildings opened. A man appeared, carrying another rubbish bag. He was wearing a white jacket that was spattered with food stains.

For an instant their eyes locked. Rascal tensed to run, but then the man smiled.

‘You must be starving if you’ll eat that,’ he said. He knelt down and held out his hand in a friendly gesture. ‘Here, boy,’ he said.

Usually Rascal would have loved to stick around. He could tell that this man was the sort who would find him something better to eat.

But the puppies were waiting for him back at the park. Rascal picked up the largest slice of pizza in his teeth, resisting the urge to bite down.

‘It’s OK. I won’t hurt you,’ said the man at the door, but Rascal was already running back.

He made it to the park as quickly as he could, taking care not to drop the food or let it trail along the ground. When he reached the bushes by the shelter, he set the slice of pizza down on the ground and pushed his way again to the canvas bag. He moved the top of the bag gently with his jaws . . . and looked down at the two puppies inside.

Two puppies!

The biggest of the three was no longer in the bag.

Rascal backed out of the bushes as fast as he could. The other puppy couldn’t have gone far, could it?

He scanned the park quickly but saw nothing. He turned his attention back to the bushes. Perhaps it had crawled in deeper? But then he heard a small sound from behind him, a little yap of curiosity. It was coming from beside the river.

Anxiety pressed down on Rascal like a terrible weight. He started towards the river, unable to see the puppy beyond a line of plants at the edge of the park lawn. Suddenly there was another noise – this time a yelp of surprise and alarm. Rascal felt a jolt of fear run through him like lightning. He raced to the river’s edge.

At first he saw nothing in the murky water. But then a tiny head broke above the surface. It was the little puppy and it was terrified. It let out a panicked yelp and then disappeared back under again.

A torrent of fear swept through Rascal. Just the sight of the struggling puppy brought back terrible memories. It was in the black waters of an underground river that Rascal had been separated from his master, Joel. The dog had been lucky to survive. Even now, months later, he could still remember the icy currents that had battled to drag him below the surface. He would never forget the dreadful helpless feeling as that jet-black water had poured into his mouth and nose.

Rascal looked around in alarm. If only there was someone he could alert, a person who would know what to do, a human who could help . . . Perhaps the man he had seen in the alleyway? But a line of trees blocked Rascal’s view that way, and there was no time to go back to see if the man was still around.

He would have given anything not to have to do this, but there was no alternative. The puppy was going to drown unless . . .

Rascal took a deep breath and jumped in.