Bitzer woofed. He wrung his hat between his front paws and tried a smile. At least there would be a reward for taking the cat back: a package of cookies (three missing) that he would be happy to share.
Night had fallen, and mist was creeping across Mossy Bottom Farm once more. Singing “Pump-um-pum-de-pum” under his breath, Bitzer checked his clipboard.
At his side, Shaun yawned. It was nearly bedtime. It had been a long day, but a good one. They had solved the mystery of the Beast of Soggy Moor and reunited the old lady and her cat.
In the barn, Shirley was putting cucumber over her eyes while Timmy’s Mum told Timmy bedtime stories about the terrifying beast. The Farmer was safely in the farmhouse with a new bandage around his toe. The ducks were playing cards, and the pigs were snoring like bulldozers. Shaun smiled. Tomorrow night, he decided, he would put a sheet over his head and jump out on Bitzer —
Grrrrrrrrrroooooowwwwllll!
Bitzer and Shaun stopped. Turning to face each other, they grinned. What had the Farmer done this time? Bitzer put one final tick on his clipboard and woofed good night to Shaun. Shaun trotted off to the barn and bed.
As he disappeared inside, a gust of wind blew across the farmyard, slapping a piece of paper to the wall.
It’s perfect for keeping in touch while on a beast hunt.
MATERIALS
2 paper cups
A sharp pencil
String (about 25 feet long)
A friend
STEP 1 Poke a small hole in the bottom of each cup using the sharp pencil. (Ask a parent or guardian to help you.)
STEP 2 Thread the string through the hole in one of the cups. Tie a knot to secure it. Repeat with the other cup.
STEP 3 You and your friend each take one cup and then move away from each other until the string is pulled taut.
STEP 4 One person talks into the cup and the other holds the cup to his or her ear. What can you hear? Is the beast nearby?
In the trailer behind the Farmer’s car, Shaun and the Flock bounced along green and leafy country lanes on a hot summer’s day. As swallows dipped and swooped around them, and sheep bleated and hung their heads over the sides of the trailer, enjoying the breeze and the sights of the open road.
Shaun’s favorite sight was the Farmer’s bald head banging against the roof of the car to shouts of “Bah!” and “Ooo-aaaargh!” every time they hit a bump in the road. Bitzer was next to him. His head was stuck out of the window, one paw on his hat to stop it blowing away, and his tongue was fluttering in the wind like a pink flag.
Shaun held on tight as the wheels hit an especially big bump. The Flock bleated to one another. With every mile, their curiosity grew. Where was the Farmer taking them on such a beautiful day?
Timmy was dreaming of the seaside. Shirley hoped they were going out to lunch at a restaurant with a dessert trolley so large that it took three waiters to push it. The Twins wanted to go to a rock festival to see their favorite band, THE REVOLVING CUCUMBERS.
Nuts was sure they were going to a show. He’d even brought some chocolate-covered raisins he’d found sprinkled over the floor of the rabbit hutches to share during intermission. He peered into the paper bag. The rabbits were crazy to leave perfectly good chocolate-covered raisins lying around like that.
His thoughts were interrupted by an excited bleat from Shaun, who was leaning over the side of the trailer and pointing a hoof. Through a gap in the trees, Nuts caught a glimpse of something that was deep blue, sparkling, and dotted with white. The Farmer wasn’t taking them to the theater.
He was taking them to the seaside!
The Flock bleated delightedly as the car clanked over the top of a hill. The sea spread out before them, stretching to the horizon. Even better, in the distance were the striped tents and roller coasters of a fair. The breeze smelled of cotton candy and sunscreen.
Squeezing his eyes closed in concentration, Timmy reached into Shirley’s fleece and pulled out a bucket and spade. Reaching in again, he found a pair of inflatable armbands and a surfboard. Happy sheep beamed at one another. Grinning, Shaun started three bleats for the Farmer: “Bleat, bleat-ooo-ooooo . . .”
The second bleat turned into a wail as the car turned sharply. The Flock was thrown from one side of the trailer to the other and almost tipped out. Then, on two wheels instead of four, the car screeched through an open gate and skidded to a halt in a field.
“Bleat,” finished Shaun in quiet disgust.
The meadow was filled with familiar sights. Farmers in muddy green coats and rain boots stood sipping tea and eating sandwiches outside a small tent. Through the open flap of another tent, Shaun could see men poking an enormous gourd and making notes.
There were stalls selling BARRY STILES’S SHEEP DIP and HOOF-U-LIKE OINTMENT and DOCTOR ULCER’S PIGGIN’ LOVELY PIG RUB. A sign that read “THE GREAT-PIDDLINGTON-ON-SEA ANNUAL FARM EXTRAVAGANZA” hung from the front of a trestle table, behind which sat three judges with badges pinned to their jackets.
In the center of it all was a large green space dotted with hurdles and pens.
The Flock peered over the side of the trailer and groaned. They weren’t going to the seaside after all. The Farmer had brought them to a farm show, and that could only mean one thing: a sheepdog trial!
There wasn’t even an ice-cream truck.
Meanwhile, the Farmer had spotted the refreshment tent. “Oooyumnumnum,” he cried, rubbing his hands together. Glancing towards Bitzer, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the Flock and barked an order before striding away, licking his lips.
Bitzer jumped out of the car, clipboard in paw. He stared at the largest of the gold cups on the judges’ table with stars in his eyes. He had heard about this trial. It was legendary among sheepdogs. Only the best — the very best — could hope to win the GREAT-PIDDLINGTON-ON-SEA ANNUAL FARM EXTRAVAGANZA GOLD CUP FOR BEST SHEEPDOG. A look of determination crossed his face. This time he wouldn’t accidentally herd the Flock into the portable bathrooms. The cup would be his.
But first, he had to prepare. After unhooking the back of the trailer, he peeped his whistle to order the sheep out into the field. He tapped the clipboard with his pencil as they shoved and jostled around him. In a moment he would direct them to a holding pen to wait their turn, but first he needed to take them through a few tactics and moves.
Shaun held up a hoof, bleating and snickering. Would these be like the tactics Bitzer used at the last trial, where he had tried to impress the judges by wearing roller skates and had herded the sheep straight into a toilet?
Bitzer scowled, remembering how he had skated through a cow pie and accidentally splattered it all over the judges. Ignoring Shaun, he showed the sheep the clipboard. At the start of the course, they would form Bitzer Herding Formation A and proceed in an orderly fashion to —
Scornful laughter interrupted him.
Bitzer turned around. Behind him, a dog in a TOP DOG baseball cap leaned against a holding pen that contained perfectly straight lines of sheep. Each of them had an electronic device clipped to one ear. In one paw, the dog held a gadget that looked like a cell phone. He also had an expensive-looking earpiece and microphone. His eyes were hidden by mirror sunglasses. Chuckling, he shook his head at Bitzer’s clipboard and tapped the screen of his device.
Bitzer’s jaw dropped as a fizzle of electricity went through Top Dog’s sheep. With a startled bleat, they all jumped into a perfect circle.
Top Dog tapped his screen again. Another fizz of electricity buzzed through his flock, and they all leaped back into lines. With a sneering woof, he flashed his phone at Bitzer. Clipboards and whistles were soooo old-fashioned. Everyone had an eHerder these days. It made herding simple, plus it could be used as a telephone and to take photos.
Bitzer, too, looked like he’d been electrocuted. Seconds passed as he stared, mouth hanging open, at the eHerder, until Top Dog snickered again and pointed over Bitzer’s shoulder.
Bitzer tore his gaze from the gad
get and glanced back at the Flock. They were . . .
With a gulp, he turned slowly and blinked.
They were gone.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2015 by Aardman Animations Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First U.S. electronic edition 2015
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2014946829
ISBN 978-0-7636-7586-8 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7636-7886-9 (electronic)
The illustrations were created digitally.
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The Beast of Soggy Moor Page 3