Eventually they began to follow the course of a small stream, walking up the gradual incline of the lower mountain shoulder along the banks, where the going was easier. Hero threw stones in the water and floated sticks on it. They snuck up on deep pools and Hero was able to catch sight of trout hanging suspended with slowly beating fins before the fish saw them and darted off.
The big pup woke up yawning. He hadn't napped long, but he wasn't tired. He lay quietly a few minutes, then tried to rouse the other pups. They groaned and rolled over. He succeeded in waking only one, a female, and she was crochety and bit him on the foot, then crawled to the other side of her litter mates and promptly went to sleep again.
The big pup nosed around the burrow awhile, but he knew each part intimately and it no longer held any fascination for him. He stretched out and gnawed on an old bone. There wasn't much taste left in it and he wasn't hungry anyway and digging his new teeth in stopped pleasuring his gums shortly so he pushed the bone aside. He grew bored. He tried the other pups again but none would wake. He crawled halfway up the burrow and began to call for his mother. She didn't answer. He worked himself into a loud fit of self-pity, and close after that, indignation. He moved closer to the den mouth. And then he became excited. He could see out the hole, to an immensity of interesting things, and he was overcome with lust for the outside. He trembled, recalling the terrible punishment his first independent venture had brought him. He edged closer, stopped just short of the mouth and yelled until he reached a pitch that had him shaking all over. He poked his head out, ready to duck back instantly if his mother rushed him, and yipped inquisitively.
There was no one there.
He called to the big dogs several minutes. No one answered. A leaf skittered by on a breeze. He jumped reflexively and sank his teeth into it, tore it to shreds. Then the wind gusted over him and he stiffened. He was outside. He remained still several moments, blood racing through his vessels, breathing quickly. Gradually his apprehension subsided. His mother was not there to punish him, nothing was unusual or threatening. He became charmed with himself.
He prowled the clearing. He lay down in the sun and stretched himself like the big dogs. He got up and swaggered over to the brush line, stuck his nose into the grass. A grasshopper exploded with whizzing wings. The pup yowled and went scrabbling backward. The fear passed, and he became embarrassed. He sat and groomed himself. He found a stick and wrestled with it and bit it, picked it up and pranced around the clearing. He was deliriously filled with himself. For no reason than that he was happy, and flooded with proprietary boldness, he stood in the center of the clearing, filled his lungs and emitted a deep rolling "Wuuuff!" of the kind he had heard from Orph and the black.
The sound was a short squeaky parody; but he heard it as the confident proclamation of the king of the woods, and even he was impressed by it.
A yellow butterfly fluttered past and came to rest on a stalk of grass in front of him. He was provoked by its effrontery. He pounced. The butterfly rose again and went bobbling off just above the earth. The pup ran after it snapping his teeth. The butterfly danced on unperturbed. The pup gave reckless chase-and fell head over heels into emptiness. He landed frightened but unhurt in a half inch of cold water. He stood and barked for his mother. Nervously, he shook off the stuff that clung to his fur, lifted his feet against the strange, unpleasant and chilly water.
He'd fallen two feet down into a basin formed by small boulders jammed tight together at the side of the stream. Had it been spring melt-off, or a period of heavy rain, the basin would have been full of swirling water and the pup would have drowned. The rock on the water side was half the height of the others and damp. The stream lapped at its top and now and then a small trickle spilled over into the basin. The pup tried to clamber out, but couldn't find any purchase on the smooth stone. He jumped, and scratched against the rock as he fell. He wore himself out. He began to whine loudly in fright.
"Mommy-what's that?"
"What's what, sweet plum Hero put a finger to his lips. "Sshhh. Listen."
Faintly, above the bubbling of the stream, Harriet heard a whimper.
"Did you hear, Mom, did you hear?"
"Uh-huh. Quiet a minute, hon. Let's find out where it's coming from."
It was somewhere not far ahead, at the edge of the stream.
"It's a animal," Hero said with concentration. "Is it hurt?"
"I don't know, hon. Let's go see."
Harriet took his hand.
They found a puppy trapped at the bottom of some rocks.
Hero was excited. "What's he doing here?"
"I don't know." Harriet looked around. She didn't see anyone or any sign of a camp. She shouted Hello! She didn't get an answer. The puppy huddled against a wall of its trap shivering and looking up at them in fear.
Harriet lowered herself and sat back on her heels. "Hi, little fells.
How'd you get yourself lost way out here, huh?"
The pup whimpered.
Hero got down beside her. "He's scared."
"Sure. He's just a little baby. We're not going to hurt you, sweetheart.
There, there, it's all right. Nothing bad is happening to you."
"Can we take him home, Mom? Can we? Can he be our dog, pl easel Hero had cried and cried as the days had gone by and it became clear that Spirit was never coming back to the Treehouse. He missed the dog awfully.
"Well, I don't know," Harriet said. "I guess we can't leave him like this all alone and helpless."
"But can we keep him, Mom?"
"Maybe." The last few weeks they'd been meaning to take Hero into Covington and let him pick out a puppy from the SPCA. "If his owners put an ad in the paper we'll have to give him back. I mean, maybe there's a little boy who loves him and maybe he loves that little boy just like Spirit loved you." Hero tightened his eyes against tears.
"But if that happens, we'll go right into town the same afternoon and get you a brand-new puppy, okay? And just between you and me, I don't think he belongs to anyone who wants him. They'd have been more careful with him if they did."
Hero became happy.
Harriet spoke soothingly to the puppy and reached down for it. It showed its teeth as her hands neared. It snarled, and when she touched it, it bit her.
"Ouch!" Harriet jerked back. Little drops of blood glistened on her fingers. She put them in her mouth and sucked them. "You're a tough little guy, you are," she said without anger.
"Why'd he do that?"
"He's very frightened. We're big scary giants to him."
Hero leaned over the basin. "Don't be scared little doggy. I love you. It's all right. We're your friends."
Harriet tried again, and was bitten again. She laughed. "You're a regular tiger." She unbuttoned her denim shirt and shrugged out of it, her breasts swinging free. "Mommy's going to make a sack out of her shirt," she said to Hero. "I don't think we can handle him otherwise, and he'll probably feel better and calm down once he's inside."
She got the pup into the shirt at the expense of a couple more tiny punctures. She carried it carefully, trying not to bounce it much.
After a while it ceased struggling and settled down. Hero crooned to the sack.
Ed got a piece of rope and Josie brought some meat scraps and a bowl of fresh goat's milk. The pup fought hysterically and lacerated Ed's hands before he got the rope around its neck. He tied the other end to a big log in the yard.
The puppy went berserk. It lunged against the rope. It twisted and jerked, got itself tangled up and thrashed about on the ground. Hero started to cry.
Ed sat down and crossed his legs. "Hero, get beside your mother.
Josie, sit over there." They joined hands in a semicircle around the crazed pup.
Deeply, Ed intoned: "Ohhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."