And then – Colin could hardly believe it! Simon was talking about him… but he did not say his name.
“This week,” said Simon, “a sad thing happened to old Mr Brown who lived on the edge of the common. But it would have been much sadder if it had not been for two kind boys.”
Colin blushed.
The vicar went on to talk about the hungry, lonely dog and how two boys had noticed and cared about it. (At this point, Colin turned his head and grinned at Will.) Simon told how he and one of the boys had whistled at the gate and how the dog had come rushing out. Then he told the people what Colin had said: “Then she’s mine now … she’ll have a good home all right.”
Simon went on to say how the dog had come to Wednesday group but would go to no one but her own master. “He’s named her Friska,” said the vicar. “He only has to call her name and the dog runs to him. She isn’t lonely or hungry or frightened any more. She’s his, and I know he’ll care for her.”
Colin smiled at Dad and nudged Mum.
“And it was this,” said the vicar, “that reminded me of the verse we just read in the Bible.” He went on to explain that God called people to come to him. They could say no or they could say yes. If they said yes, it was like they were answering his call, like Friska did. Like Friska, they would belong to a master who would love them and care for them. They’d belong to someone who would say to them, “Don’t be afraid. I have rescued you. I have called you by name; now you belong to me.”
“That’s what God says to each one of us,” said Simon. “He says, ‘If you answer and come to me, you will be mine for ever, and safe for ever.’”
There was more, but Colin was so excited that he didn’t listen much to the rest of it. When it was over, Joy came over to him, looking quite proud.
“Fancy having a sermon all about you, Colin!” she said very loudly.
The people nearby looked at him.
“Well, well!” said the man who ran the garage. “Well done, lad!”
And Colin’s teacher said, “So you were the hero of the story, were you?”
Colin went redder than ever. But he did not hang around for long, for up at the farm, his dog was waiting for him. He left Mum, Dad and Joy talking outside the church and hurried up the lane.
But as he ran, part of the verse he’d heard kept going round and round in his head. He wanted to get home and say it to Friska.
“Don’t be afraid. … I have called you by name; now you belong to me.”
Chapter four
Old Charlie never came back. He went to live in a home near to his sister. So Friska stayed at the farm. Colin could hardly remember the time when Friska hadn’t been there. She waited for him at the bottom of the stairs in the morning. She saw him off to school. She scampered down the lane to meet him on his return. She was a beautiful, glossy, bright-eyed dog now. And she was so well-behaved that no one at the farm was sorry that they had taken her in.
The summer holidays came. Colin helped his dad, and wandered over the countryside with Will and Friska. At the beginning of August the boys went to camp. Joy promised to look after Friska. It was a great week. But when the last day came, Colin could hardly wait to get back to his dog. He was nearly knocked over by her welcome.
September arrived and it was time to go back to school. The leaves were beginning to turn yellow and the hills were hidden by mists in the morning. The plums and apples were ripening in the orchard. One Saturday afternoon, Joy and Colin decided to go looking for blackberries.
“If you go down toward the hop yard they’ll be best,” said Mum. “Blackberries ripen quicker down in the valley.”
The children ran down the rutted track that led to the distant hop fields on the further side of the farm. To the left lay the orchards but on the right the woods came down to the track. Here the hedges were heavy with blackberries. Joy and Colin picked the juicy berries. Friska ran into the woods to hunt for rabbits.
Suddenly they heard a furious barking. Colin, spilling half his berries, dashed in among the trees. He saw Friska standing in front of a huge Alsatian dog. It was on a leash and was growling deep in its throat. Colin grabbed Friska’s collar.
The big Alsatian was being firmly held by two boys a little older than himself. They wore scruffy clothes and one carried a sack over his back. Neither they nor the dog looked very friendly. Colin felt a bit scared. He made for the edge of the wood, dragging Friska behind him. She was still barking.
Joy had climbed the bank to see what was going on. She wasn’t afraid of the boys with the big dog. She smiled.
“Hi,” she said.
“All right?” said the eldest of the boys. The big dog stopped growling. Friska stopped barking. And Colin stopped feeling afraid.
Then Joy asked them what they’d got in their sack.
“Want to see?” said the older boy. He opened the sack and pulled out a pink-eyed, yellow-toothed ferret. It had dirty white fur. He pushed it toward Joy. “Let me introduce you to Rats,” he said.
Joy said, “You’ve been rabbiting, haven’t you? How many did you catch?”
“None. Swagger here’s not much good at rabbiting.” The older boy looked at his dog. “He’s too big.”
“That’s a nice-looking little dog you’ve got there,” said the younger boy, pointing at Friska. “Want to sell it?”
“No way,” said Colin quickly. It was such a terrible idea that he put his arms round Friska and held her tight.
The younger boy said no more. He just glared, his dark curls half over his eyes.
“Where d’you live, then?” the older boy asked Joy.
“Up at the farm on the hill. Where do you live?”
“In a better house than yours. Want to see?”
“Yes, OK,” said Joy. “How far is it?”
“Just down by the road in the lay-by.”
Joy and Colin looked at each other. Colin didn’t really want to go but he could see Joy did. He couldn’t let her go alone so he gave a little nod.
“Come on then,” said the older boy.
They went down the track until they came to the main road. A van was parked in the lay-by hitched to a trailer – a long, white caravan with scarlet curtains. A group of people sat round outside, talking and laughing. The children stopped a little way off.
“There,” said the older boy proudly. “Good, isn’t it? These are my people.” He nodded towards his friend. “His people live in another trailer. It’ll be along soon.”
“It’s great,” said Joy. “I wish I lived in a house like that! Where are you going?”
“Dunno… on to the hops somewhere. Might be anywhere,” said the older boy. “Want to see inside?”
“Not now, we must go back,” said Joy.
“OK,” said the older boy. “Cheers then.” He smiled in a friendly way but the younger boy still said nothing. He just stared and his bright eyes were fixed on Friska.
Joy and Colin hurried up the track, talking about the caravan. They thought it must be wonderful to live in a trailer, always moving on. That kind of life made the farm seem quite boring.
It was dusk and rabbits were coming out in the twilight. Friska kept rushing into the woods and the children did not wait for her. She often chased rabbits and she knew her way home.
They arrived back happy and hungry. Mum was cooking tea. There was a lovely smell in the kitchen. Joy and Colin sat down with glasses of orange juice. They told Mum all about their adventure and how they wished they lived in a caravan. Mum laughed and said she was happy on the farm.
“Where’s Friska?” said Colin suddenly. “I wonder if she’s caught a rabbit for a change. She hardly ever does. She makes too much noise.”
“Let her be,” said Mum. “A dog wants to have a bit of fun on its own. She’ll come in her own time.”
Colin went to the door and stood looking out at the darkening hills. A new moon hung behind the woods and an owl hooted. He felt a bit jealous thinking about Friska having fun on her
own without him. He whistled.
There was no answer. The owl hooted again. Colin stepped out into the yard and looked round. Friska must be having a very exciting time to stay out so long. He walked a little way to where the woods came down to the edge of the track.
“Friska!” he called. “Good dog! Come home now. Good dog!”
But there was still no Friska. The leaves rustled and some little animals ran about in a ditch… just the ordinary night sounds. No happy barking or scampering paws. Colin suddenly felt very scared. He rushed back to the house. He was glad to find his father in the kitchen.
“Dad! Mum! Joy!” he shouted. “Friska’s not there! She never goes far. She always comes when I call. She’s gone!”
“Let’s all call,” said Joy, and they all ran outside. Up and down the track they went, calling and calling. They went all the way back to the place where they had picked blackberries. Then they came all the way back home, still calling. But it was no good. Friska had completely disappeared.
“We’ll have to go home now, Colin,” said Dad sadly. “Maybe someone’s stolen her. We might have to ring the police.”
They went back into the kitchen and Dad put his arm round Colin’s shoulders. Colin began to cry.
“We’ll find her, son,” he said. “Maybe she’ll come home in the night. We’ll hear if she scratches.”
Joy looked up suddenly. “Cal,” she said, “do you think that boy could have taken her? The younger one? He wanted to buy her and he kept looking at her.”
Colin gave a big sniff. “But she was with us till we were nearly home,” he said. “I saw her chase a rabbit into the woods just below the crab apple tree.”
“The boy could have followed us,” said Joy. “It was getting dark and we were hurrying. We didn’t look round.”
Colin got quite excited. “Then the police could find him,” he said. “We know what the caravan looks like, white with red curtains.”
Joy shook her head. “That one belonged to the older boy’s family,” she said. “The other one was waiting for the trailer to arrive. We didn’t see it. But we’d know Friska anywhere. It ought to be easy.”
“We’ll get the police first thing tomorrow morning,” said Dad.
Colin drank a cup of tea and went up to bed very quietly. His mother looked in later and thought he was asleep. His father only discovered their mistake next morning. He came downstairs, yawning, and found Colin asleep in his sleeping bag… right by the door.
Chapter five
It was a sad rainy morning. Colin came in late to breakfast, cold and wet and very miserable. He had been up early, searching the woods. He thought perhaps Friska had been hurt, but Dad shook his head.
“We’d have heard her howling,” he said. “I think Joy’s right and she’s gone with the hop pickers. I’ll ring the police.”
But the police were not very hopeful. The hop fields were spread out all over the county and Colin probably hadn’t seen the right trailer. They had to have a warrant to search caravans. They said every caravan had one or two dogs and their owners would probably say they’d had them since they were puppies. They said that if a dog was stolen, it would most likely be tied up inside a van and only let out at night. Still, they told Colin’s dad that they’d have a look round.
“Well,” said Mum, “we’d best get ready for church. Colin, would you rather stop home? I don’t suppose the dog will come but you never know.”
Colin hesitated. He somehow felt that he would like to see the vicar. Simon had been really helpful in tracking down old Charlie. The vicar always seemed to have good ideas when things went wrong. But if Friska came back, Colin did not want her to come home to an empty house. He decided to stay.
“But tell Simon why,” he said. “He’ll want to know about Friska.”
But there was no sign of Friska. Colin wandered about the yard or sat in the kitchen window. The time seemed to pass very slowly. At last he heard Joy clatter up the steps and fling open the door.
“The vicar’s coming, Cal,” she announced breathlessly. “He’s coming specially to see you.”
Colin ran to the window. Sure enough, Mum, Dad and Simon were coming across the yard. The vicar had changed from his church clothes into an old jacket and wellington boots. Colin jumped the steps and met him.
“Did they tell you?” he said. “She’s gone. Dad and Joy think it might be the hop pickers, but she might be hurt somewhere…”
“Well, let’s check she’s not hurt. We’ll have one more search round,” said Simon. “The sun’s coming out. Look, there’s a rainbow over the hills. Have you been round to old Charlie’s place?”
Colin shook his head.
“Let’s try there first then,” said the vicar.
Outside, the rainbow grew brighter and brighter and all the world looked clean and shining. They searched the woods right up to the ridge and down the other side. They went to Charlie’s house which was a wilderness of weeds and nettles. They sat down on the rough log beneath the window. Colin was quite tired and very miserable.
“Supposing Friska’s hurt,” he said. “Or supposing she’s gone with that boy. Perhaps she’s hungry. Perhaps he’ll beat her. And she won’t like being shut in a caravan. Friska’s an outdoor dog.”
“Oh, I’m sure the boy would be kind to her,” said the vicar. “Listen, Colin, do you ever pray about things?”
Colin nodded. “I say my prayers at night. I say, ‘Our Father in heaven, help us to honour your name…’ I can’t remember the rest of that prayer. Anyway, then I say, ‘Bless Mum and Dad and Joy and me’ and last night I said, ‘Bless Friska’.”
“Well, that’s a good prayer. But do you believe there really is a Father in heaven? Do you think you can belong to him, tell him everything and ask him to help you?”
Colin frowned. He had never really thought about it.
“Dunno,” he said.
“Well, when you do believe he’s really there, it makes things all different. Do you remember the verse you learned when I told the story of you and your dog?”
Colin smiled. “‘Don’t be afraid. … ’ I can’t remember the middle bit. Then it went, ‘I have called you by name; now you belong to me.’” I said it to Friska when I got home.”
The vicar laughed. “You said it to Friska, but God says it to you! ‘Don’t be afraid, Colin. I have rescued you. I have called you by name; now you belong to me.’”
“What does it mean, ‘rescued’?” asked Colin. “Rescued from what?”
“Colin, you know God is good. He loves us and wants us to belong to him. But sometimes we don’t listen to him. We go the wrong way and do wrong things. But when Jesus came, he said, ‘I’ll take away those wrong things and put you right with God.’”
“How did he do that?” asked Colin.
“He took the punishment we all deserve for doing wrong when he died on the cross. He paid the price. He rescued us. Now he calls us to be his children, and you can say yes or no. It’s best to say yes. When you belong to God, then you have a loving heavenly Father. You can tell him everything and you need never feel lonely or scared. You can tell him about Friska and ask him to help you find her. He loves us and he wants to help – he’s always there for us. And Colin, remember: he doesn’t always give us exactly what we ask for. But he always does the thing that is right and best.”
“It would be right and best to find Friska,” said Colin. “Could you ask him now?”
So they prayed and asked God to look after Friska, wherever she was, and to bring her back. Then they left the cottage and said goodbye. Colin went home feeling much happier. If God was really so great, he must know where Friska was and he would look after her.
Chapter six
The week passed slowly. The police said they were still keeping their eyes open but so far they had seen nothing of a black mongrel dog. Every day Colin hurried back from school with just a tiny hope in his heart that Friska might come rushing to meet him. But there was no so
und except the cows, mooing as they went to the milking, or Growler’s deep bark. Growler was a big dog who guarded the yard and he wasn’t very friendly. But he seemed to know Colin was upset. He licked Colin’s hand and pretended to be a gentle dog. Colin would sometimes cry into his bristly coat and bring him extra dog biscuits.
On Saturday morning, Colin woke very early. Dad was in the barn and the house was silent. It was a clear day with golden leaves blowing about. Sprays of crimson creeper waved in the wind. Colin leaned on the sill and suddenly knew what he was going to do that day. He would have one last try. After all, Friska must be somewhere. He thought of waking Joy and asking her to go with him. But then he remembered she had to go back to school for a hockey match.
He dressed and went to the kitchen. He found some food – a bread roll, an apple and some pork pie. He put on his wellingtons. He was ready to set off and no one must stop him. He wouldn’t tell his mum and dad in case they tried to talk him out of it. He’d just write a note and go.
So he started off down the track. He went past the crab apple tree and the orchards. He went past the blackberry hedges. Then he came to the road and the lay-by where the van and its trailer had parked. It had been heading north toward Worcester and there were hop yards all the way.
“Who knows?” he said to himself. “I might turn out to be a good detective. I might even be one when I grow up.”
He trotted along as the warm September sun rose in the sky. He was going down a road where a fluffy plant called old man’s beard grew. There were also bright red rose hips in the hedges. Behind the hedges, the hop yards stretched away as far as he could see. But there were no caravans – only little clusters of sheds where the pickers who didn’t have caravans bedded down. Colin went as close to these as he dared and watched for a long time. But they were mostly locked and deserted, for the people were all out working in the fields. There were no dogs about.
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