E-text prepared by Lionel Sear
by
Mabel Quiller-Couch
The summer sun blazed down scorchingly on the white road, on the widestretch of moorland in the distance, and on the little coppice whichgrew not far from the road.
The only shady spot for miles, it seemed, was that one under thetrees in the little coppice, where the caravan stood; but even therethe heat was stifling, and the smell of hot blistering varnishmingled with the faint scent of honeysuckle and dog-roses.
Not a sound broke the stillness, for even the birds had been drivento shelter and to silence, and except for the rabbits very few otherlive things lived about there, to make any sounds. That afternoonthere were four other live things in the coppice, but they too weresilent, for they were wrapped in deep sleep. The four were a man anda woman, a horse and a dog, and of all the things in that stretch ofcountry they were the most unlovely. The man and the woman weredirty, untidy, red-faced and coarse. Even in their sleep their faceslooked cruel and sullen. The old horse standing patiently by, withdrooping head and hopeless, patient eyes, looked starved and weak.His poor body was so thin that the bones seemed ready to push throughthe skin, on which showed the marks of the blows he had received thatmorning. The fourth creature there was a dog, as thin as the horse,but younger, a lank, yellow, ugly, big-bodied dog, with a cleverhead, bright, speaking brown eyes, and as keen a nose for scent asany dog ever born possessed.
The brown eyes had been closed for a while in slumber, but presentlythey opened alertly; a fly had bitten his nose, and the owner of thenose got up to catch the fly. This done, he looked around him.He looked with drooped ears and tail at the sleeping man and woman,with ears a little raised at the old horse, and then with both earsand tail alertly cocked he looked about him eagerly, even anxiously.A second later he was leaping up the steps and into the caravan; butin less than a minute he was out again, leaping over the steps at theother end, and out to the edge of the coppice. What he was in searchof was not in the van, or under it, or anywhere near it.
The dog did not whine, or make a sound. He knew better than that.A whine would have brought a heavy boot flying through the air athim, or a stick across his back, or a kick in the ribs, if he werefoolish enough to go within reach of a foot. With his long nose tothe ground he stepped delicately to the edge of the coppice, thenstood still looking about him, his brown eyes full of wistfulanxiety.
He looked to the right, he looked to the left, he listened eagerly,then he stepped back to the van again. This time he found something.It was only a clue, but it sent his spirits up again, and with h