Flash the Sheep Dog

by Kathleen Fidler

  The time came for Tom to take Flash through his final rehearsals before the Trials.

  “Oh, bother! He’s singled the wrong sheep out,” Tom cried in vexation. “He’s never done that before! If he does that on Saturday he’ll lose all our chances of winning. You silly dog, Flash!” There was a note of anger in Tom’s voice. Flash looked up at him unhappily. He came to Tom with his head hanging down, dismayed.

  “You’re both tired and the practice has gone on too long,” Uncle John remarked. “I think Flash is missing Elspeth and her biscuits as well.”

  “Maybe we’re both missing Elspeth. Things went right when she was there! Why did she have to go away just before the Trials?” Tom burst out.

  Uncle John threw Tom a searching glance, but said nothing more. That night, when Tom had gone to bed, he put through a telephone call.

  The Saturday of the Sheep Dog Trials broke bright with sunshine and a light breeze. Breakfast was early, for the Trials were to be held at a park some miles away, and the qualifying runs were to begin at 8.30 am. Uncle John brought out the Land Rover.

  Aunt Jane came out of the house resplendent in a floral silk dress with a navy-blue corded silk coat that smelled faintly of camphor. To crown it and herself, she wore a navy straw hat bedecked with rosebuds. Uncle John stared at her as if beholding a vision.

  “Guid sakes, Jane! Where did you get that rig from? I’ve never seen you in that before.”

  Aunt Jane looked at him pityingly. “It’s a shame you’re getting so old that your memory’s failing! I wore this at our Meg’s wedding five years ago.”

  “Michty me! So you did!” Uncle John exclaimed.

  “Even if you like going round like a tramp there’s no call for me to look an old frump,” Aunt Jane told him. “One of us has got to show folk the family isn’t in the Poor House.”

  Uncle John drove the car to the parking field for the Trials, then they made their way to the ground. The spectators were standing on a small hill that overlooked the course. Some of them had brought car rugs on which their families sat. Aunt Jane spread her rug in an advantageous position near to the rope that divided the spectators from the course. Everywhere farmers and shepherds were standing in little groups with their dogs at their feet. Just in front of the rope was the judges’ tent.

  Tom and Aunt Jane settled down on the ground, while Flash lay down at Tom’s feet. He kept looking about him as though searching for someone all the time. The warm smell of the meadow was wafted towards them mingled with the sharper scent of dogs and sheep. Uncle John went to get a printed programme to see what place Tom had drawn.

  “You’ve drawn fifth place in your heat,” he told Tom.

  “I’m glad I’ve not drawn first,” Tom said with relief. “I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

  “You watch the competitors before you and you’ll see how it goes,” his uncle advised him. “Let Flash watch too!”

  Flash sat bolt upright, never taking his eyes off the competing dogs. It was as though he was learning what to do at the Trials too. Once, when a sheep eluded the dog to escape round the hurdles, Flash gave what seemed like a critical sniff. At last their turn came.

  When Tom took the field with Flash there were interested comments from the spectators.

  “That’s a very young laddie to be competing.”

  “Aye, and the dog’s quite a young one too.”

  “Whose lad is he?”

  “Nephew to Birkhope. He’s been living with them close on a year. The dog belongs to him, so I’ve heard.”

  “Weel, I don’t suppose he’ll do much but we all have to learn the know-how. This’ll be an experience for the boy.”

  Uncle John, who overheard this speech, turned and winked at Aunt Jane. “Only let Tom and Flash get through the qualifying round and we’ll see what they can do.”

  “Do you think he’ll win into the Final, John? It means so much to Tom, more for Flash’s sake than his own.” Aunt Jane sounded anxious.

  “You never can tell. Either of them might do something silly. So far, though, there’s no’ been over-much talent in the other dogs.”

  Tom felt a lonely figure as he stood beside the post, stick in hand and with Flash at his feet, waiting for the signal from the judge. It seemed as if the eyes of the spectators were boring into his back. He stooped and patted Flash to give them both more confidence. Flash responded with his quick grateful lick to the hand.

  “Do your best for us, Flash!” Tom said in a low voice. “Now look at the sheep, lad.” He pointed to the distant sheep that Flash was to bring in, and Flash crouched in readiness.

  The judge’s whistle blew. Back in his spectator’s seat Uncle John started his stopwatch.

  “Away here, Flash!” Tom’s voice rang out clearly and his stick pointed the direction. Flash never hesitated, but was away like the wind and in behind the flock.

  “A lovely outrun, that!” Uncle John said with satisfaction.

  Tom gave the whistle which mean “Down!” and at once Flash crouched behind the little flock.

  There was a murmur of surprised admiration from the spectators.

  Flash approached the sheep and began to “lift” them towards Tom. The sheep were not so docile as the Birkhope flocks and were inclined to scatter. Flash went after them and brought them together again. Owing to the friskiness of the flock Tom had to take more time over the drive than usual. He gave the whistle “Down!” more frequently than he did at home and had Flash crouching behind his five sheep more times than usual.

  Uncle John looked anxiously at his stopwatch. “He’s taking his time,” he breathed uneasily to Aunt Jane. “I hope he’s remembered there’s a time limit.”

  The sheep had steadied, however, under Flash’s powerful compelling eye and he brought all five quite neatly through the first gate and round behind Tom. Next came the cross drive, and again Tom seemed to be taking a long time over it, making sure that the sheep did not scatter. Still Uncle John consulted his watch uneasily.

  Flash gathered the sheep in the shedding ring and divided them into two groups as the test required. This took some time. One of the sheep almost got away out of the ring, though, and Flash’s bunching of the group afterwards was not so neat as he had done it many times before on the farm. Likewise he got through the penning test with little difficulty, though again Flash seemed to take his time. Tom let the gate swing shut with a thankful heart.

  Uncle John again looked anxiously at his watch. “There’s only the singling of the sheep now. If Flash gets to business quickly, he might just make it,” he whispered to Aunt Jane.

  Tom himself realized that Flash had taken longer than usual over some of the tasks and he re-opened the pen gate hurriedly, then went and took up his stance at the shedding ring. Flash bundled the sheep out of the pen to the shedding ring, though they were rather restive there and time was wasted in keeping them together. When Tom pointed to the beribboned sheep, however, Flash had little difficulty in singling him out and holding him at the far side of the shedding ring.

  The judge’s whistle sounded to show that the test was over. Uncle John looked for the last time at his stopwatch. “He’s just made it,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Tom stooped and patted Flash, and from the crowd of spectators there came clapping and a shout of “Weel done, lad!”

  Tom heaved a sigh of relief that the first trial was over.

  “How did we do?” Tom whispered to his uncle.

  “No’ bad!” Uncle John told him. “You nearly ran out o’ time though, Tom. Ye were slow at getting off your mark at the ‘lift’ and in bringing them down the field.”

  “I know,” Tom said ruefully. “The sheep were rather lively, though, and I daren’t risk Flash scattering them.”

  “Fair enough!” Uncle John agreed, “But Flash was no’ showing the spark he usually does. If ye get through to the final, ye’ll need to make better time there.”

  “Shall we get through to the final?”
Tom asked rather despondently.

  “That I can’t tell ye, Tom, till the marks for all the dogs are known, and that’ll no’ be for another hour yet. Take heart, lad! From what I saw, ye’ve at least got a chance.”

  Tom and Flash watched the rest of the Qualifying Trials in a kind of dream, Tom alternately fluctuating between hope and despair that Flash would get a place in the Final. At last the heats were over and the judges went to their tent to compare their findings. It seemed an eternity to Tom before they emerged. The chief judge made his announcements through a megaphone. Six dogs had been chosen to compete in the finals in the afternoon. Everyone waited with bated breath to know which dogs had been successful. Tom went quite pale. The judge shuffled his papers and seemed to have mislaid the very one he wanted. At last he found it, cleared his voice, and began to read out the names. Tom clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into the palms of his hands. Four names were read out, but Flash’s was not among them. Then came the fifth. “Flash, owned by Tom Stokes.”

  Tom could hardly believe his ears. He let out a tremendous breath of relief. Uncle John slapped him hard on the back.

  “You’ve made it, Tom! You’ve made the final!” Uncle John was no less pleased than Tom.

  “Oh, Flash! Flash!” Tom hugged the dog to him.

  The dog knew that Tom was pleased with him and licked his face with the warm affection that only a dog can show. At the same time he looked round about Tom as if missing something.

  “He’s looking for Elspeth,” Tom said. “Elspeth always praised him when he did well.”

  “Weel, now, ye’ll be wanting some food,” Uncle John said briskly. “You and Tom go to the marquee, Jane, and get some dinner. See that you get a drink of water for Flash, Tom, but don’t give him anything to eat, not till he’s run in the Final.”

  “Aren’t you coming for dinner with us too, Uncle John?” Tom asked, slightly disappointed.

  “No – er – I’ve got to go and see someone. See you later on just here before the Finals begin,” he said in a vague kind of voice and strode away in the direction of the car park.

  “Come on, Tom! We may have to queue for places at the tables,” Aunt Jane said.

  With a reluctant backward glance at his uncle, Tom whistled Flash to heel and they set out for the refreshment tent.

  After lunch people began to take up their positions overlooking the course again. Tom and Aunt Jane were just taking their seats on the rug when Uncle John reappeared. A smaller figure followed in his wake. It was Elspeth! Tom jumped to his feet with delight. “Elspeth! It’s you! I didn’t know you were coming!”

  “Your uncle came to fetch me.” Elspeth bubbled over with joy too. “He rang up Father last night, and Mother said she could spare me this afternoon.”

  “Has Uncle John told you Flash is in the Final?”

  “Yes, he did! Oh, Tom, I’m so glad!”

  Flash leaped for joy about her feet, licking at her hands. She bent to pat and hug him. “Oh, Flash, you’re a wonder dog!”

  Suddenly Flash sniffed at her pocket.

  “You crafty one, Flash! You know I’ve got your biscuits in this pocket,” Elspeth laughed. “Do well in the Final, and you’ll have your reward.”

  Flash gave an excited bark as if showing he understood.

  “We shall both do better now you’re here, Elspeth,” Tom said.

  Tom had drawn the fourth place to run in the Final. Elspeth went with them as far as the post where Tom was to stand, gave Flash a pat and said, “Do your best, Flash, there’s a good dog!” and withdrew again behind the rope.

  Tom took up his position at the first post with far more confidence than he had felt in the morning. He pointed the far-away sheep out to Flash and they waited for the judge’s whistle. Almost before the words “Away there!” came from Tom, Flash was off like a streak of lightning.

  “See that!” came voices from the crowd, amazed at the speed of the dog.

  In a second or two Flash was behind the flock and at Tom’s whistle he dropped down, crawling towards them on his stomach so as not to alarm them. Tom hardly needed to give him any commands. He came stealthily towards the little flock of five sheep. As soon as they were aware of him they began to move down the hill. To Tom’s relief they went quietly, not in the least fussed, but obedient.

  “Oh, grand! Grand!” Uncle John breathed, not even bothering to look at his stopwatch. “He’ll get good marks for that.”

  Flash turned the sheep neatly between the posts and down to Tom, who then advanced to the second post.

  Then came the cross-drive which he executed with skill, manoeuvring even the stupid outside sheep through the two gates without any bother. He brought them in a tidy bunch to the shedding ring. This time, when Tom pointed out the sheep to be shed, there was little hesitation. Flash went in close and crouched before the small flock which parted, three to one side and two to the other. He then turned to the two sheep and brought them out of the ring at Tom’s command. One of the sheep turned and stamped at him, but Flash was not to be intimidated. He crouched before it and wore it down with a glaring look.

  “Come by!” Tom pointed to the left and motioned to Flash to reunite the five sheep within the ring. Without any further direction from Tom he brought them together again and stood panting a little, his pink tongue flicking in and out, looking for Tom to lead the way to the pen. As soon as Tom held the gate by the rope he was at the heels of the sheep. It was with an air of surprise that they found themselves propelled into the pen. Tom let the gate swing to and gave the sheep just time to breathe and settle before he opened it again. Flash stood with one paw lifted, his eyes on Tom.

  “Bring them out, Flash!” was all Tom needed to say quietly and the little dog was at the pen, moving behind the sheep. One sheep, the one who had given trouble before, faced about as if to defy him, but Flash advanced in menacing fashion, glaring at the sheep. It backed away and out to join the other four. Quietly, determinedly, Flash brought them along, running back and forth behind them, darting to the sides to prevent a breakaway by the frisky one. When he had them all in the ring before Tom, he had to single out the sheep with the ribbon.

  Perhaps it was fortunate that the beribboned sheep was the one which had given trouble in the pen. He had been thoroughly subdued already by the masterful look in Flash’s eye. When Flash went in close and bent that baleful glare upon him again, he backed away. Flash “wore” him by alternately crouching and moving, never taking his eyes off him. The mesmerized sheep retreated before him till he was separated from the others and arrived at Tom’s feet. Even there Flash held him by crouching before him.

  The judge’s whistle blew and the test was over!

  “Grand! Well within his fifteen minutes too!” Uncle John cried with delight. “That dog’s a wonder!”

  “So is Tom!” Aunt Jane declared, but her remark was lost in the loud applause from the spectators.

  Tom stooped and gave Flash the well-earned pat and said “Good dog, Flash! Good dog!” Flash gave his hand the usual quick lick, then he looked beyond Tom with searching eyes. There was Elspeth waiting on the rope fence, just as she had watched and waited so often at the farm. Flash gave a little yelp of delight, though he still kept obediently to heel behind Tom. When they left the field Elspeth went down on her knees and hugged the dog.

  “Oh, well done, Flash! And well done, you too, Tom! It was just marvellous.”

  “I think Flash did so well because he knew you were watching him.” Tom told her. “He always does better when you are there.”

  Uncle John came up and shook Tom by the hand. “Man, Tom, I’m proud of you,” he said.

  Flash was looking up expectantly at Elspeth.

  “Mercy me! I almost forgot!” she exclaimed. “Mr Meggetson, do you think I could give Flash a biscuit?”

  “One biscuit! You can give him three.” John Meggetson said recklessly.

  When the last of the trials was over, after a brief interval,
the judges announced their decision.

  “Two dogs came very close in the final award of marks,” the spokesman told the spectators gathered round the judges’ tent, “These were Mr Morrison’s ‘Laddie’ and Mr Tom Stokes’ ‘Flash’.”

  Tom’s heart missed a beat with excitement and Elspeth’s cheeks went pink.

  “On the aggregate of marks, however, leading by two marks only, the prize is awarded to Flash, owned by Mr Tom Stokes. We would specially like to commend Flash for his speedy outrun and the controlled way he gathered and lifted the sheep, and Mr Tom Stokes for the quiet way he gave his commands. May I say that for a lad he did remarkably well. We think that if both boy and dog go on in the same way, someday Peebleshire may produce a new national champion.”

  There was loud applause at this last remark. Tom could hardly believe that the judge was speaking about him.

  “I have to add that the Cup for the youngest competitor goes to Tom Stokes and Flash also. And now I will ask Mistress Ogilvie if she will kindly present the prizes. Will each prizewinner kindly come up as his name is announced, and bring his dog with him?”

  “Go on, lad!” Uncle John said, giving Tom a little push when his name was called.

  Feeling that he was in a dream, Tom advanced to the tent with Flash at his heels. He shook hands with Mistress Ogilvie, putting a rather grubby and sticky hand into hers. Mistress Ogilvie gave him a very friendly smile as she presented him with his two silver cups and a cheque for three guineas, which she tucked into one silver cup for him. Tom turned back to his uncle and aunt. The silver cups were much admired and Aunt Jane took charge of the cheque in her handbag at Tom’s request. Uncle John kept introducing Tom with pride to his farmer friends. At last they broke away and made for the car park. As they went, Uncle John was waylaid by a stranger. The others waited by the car while Uncle John talked to him, then, to their surprise, Uncle John brought the man along to the car.

  “This is Mr McKay, the dog dealer,” he said in a reserved voice. “This is my nephew, Tom Stokes, who owns Flash.”

  “Your dog put up an excellent performance in the Final,” Mr McKay told Tom. “Do you think of selling him at all?”