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LOB?S GIRL Joan Aiken Have you heard of household pets that rescued people from fires, accidents and people with criminal intent? Have you read of pets that traveled great distances to return to their owners? The story that follows tells of one such pet. Find out what the dog does?. Nine years went by, and each summer Mr. Dodsworth came back to stay at the Fisherman?s Arms and call on his erstwhile dog. Lob always met him with recognition and dignified pleasure accompanied him for a walk or two--but showed no signs of wishing to return to Liverpool. His place, he intimated, was definitely with the Pengelly?s. In the course of nine years, Lob changed less than Sandy. As she went into her teens he became a little slower, a little stiffer, there was a touch of gray on his nose, but he was still a handsome dog. He and Sandy still loved one another devotedly. One evening in October all the summer visitors had left, and the little fishing town looked empty and secretive. It was a wet, windy dusk. When the children came home for school--even the twins were at high school now and Don was a full-pledged fisherman ? Jean Pengelly said, ?Sandy, your Aunt Rebecca says she?s lonesome because Uncle Will Hoskins has gone out trawling, and she wants one of you to go and spend the evening with her. You go dear; you can take your homework with you. Sandy looked far from enthusiastic. ?Can I take Lob with me?? ?You know Aunt Becky doesn?t really like dogs?oh, very well.? Mrs. Pengelly sighed. ?I suppose she?ll have to put up with him as well as you.? Reluctantly Sandy tidied herself, took her school bag, put on the damp raincoat she had just taken off, fastened Lob?s lead to his collar, and set off to walk through the dusk to Aunt Becky?s cottage, which was five minutes? climb up the steep hill. The wind was howling through the shrouds of boats drawn up on the Hard. ?Put some cheerful music on, do,? said Jean Pengelly to the nearest twin. ?Anything to drown the wretched sound while I make your dad?s supper.? So Don, who had just come in, put on some rock music, loud. Which was why the Pengellys did not hear the truck hurtle down the hill and crash against the post office wall a few minutes later. Dr. Travers was driving through Cornwall with his wife, taking a late holiday before patients began coming down with winter colds and flu. He saw the sign that said STEEP HILL. LOW GEAR FOR 1 ½ MILES. ?What a narrow, dangerous hill! But the cottages are very pretty?oh, Frank, stop, stop! There?s a child, I?m sure it?s a child?by the wall over there!? Dr. Travers jammed on his brakes and brought the car to a stop. A little stream ran down by the road in a shallow stone culvert and half in the water lay something that looked, in the dusk, like a pile of clothes?or was it the body of a child? Mrs. Travers was out of the car in a flash, but her husband was quicker. Don?t touch her, Emily!? he said sharply. ?She?s been hit. Can?t be more than a few minutes. Remember that truck that overtook us half a mile back, speeding like the devil? Here, quick, go into that cottage and phone for an ambulance. The girl?s in a bad way. I?ll stay here and do what I can to stop the bleeding. Don?t waste a minute. Doctors are experts at stopping dangerous bleeding for they know the right places to press.
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