by Ben Fogle
The hedgehog curled up and rolled neatly into Mr Dog’s jaws. ‘I’m good to go!’
Mr Dog picked up Hog and hared away in search of the vehicle. He sent sheep scattering as he galloped past, and mumbled apologies.
The noise of the engine grew louder. At the bottom of the field stood an open gate, and Mr Dog saw an old, muddy tractor rumbling into view on enormous wheels.
‘We’ll take the direction it came from,’ he decided, and changed course towards the tractor. But then the tractor stopped and its driver dropped down from inside, looking very angry!
‘Chase my flock, would you?’ The farmer, tall, lean and red-faced, pointed at Mr Dog, who skidded to a stop. ‘You must be the wild mutt who was fighting Mrs Maitland’s Dandy. Well, we don’t stand for strays or sheep-worriers on the Isle of Evan!’
‘I’m not wild – I’m really quite reasonable,’ Mr Dog protested. ‘And your sheep aren’t worried, they’re just a little surprised!’ But of course, his words came out just as woofs and wuffs to the farmer, and all muffled by a mouthful of hedgie. To Mr Dog’s horror, the farmer reached inside the tractor’s cab – and pulled out a shotgun.
‘Goodbye!’ Mr Dog turned tail and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, heading for the stream. BOOM! The shotgun fired. Mr Dog’s eyes widened but he kept on running.
‘EEEEP! What was that?’ cried Hog.
‘Nothing nice!’ Mr Dog told him. Heart hammering, he put on a last desperate burst of speed. BOOM! The farmer fired again. Sand sprayed from the bank just in front of Mr Dog and showered over him. Some went in his eyes. Blinded for a moment, he leaped for cover, tumbled down the bank and hit the stream.
The splash-landing knocked Hog from out of Mr Dog’s jaws! With an ‘EEEEEEP!’ and a PLOP, the hedgehog hit the cold blue water … and sank from sight!
‘Hog?’ Mr Dog pushed his face into the water and blinked, trying to clear his eyes. ‘Oh, Hog! What have I done?’ He searched about more desperately. ‘That poor prickled pickle – I’ve lost him in the water. He’ll be drowned!’
Chapter Seven
ON THE ROAD
Mr Dog grew desperate, splashing about in a circle, looking for Hog. The farmer’s voice carried across the field and over the bank, ‘What’s all that splashing? Did I hit him …?’
Not yet, you didn’t, thought Mr Dog. And I’m not going to give you another chance! He knew he had to leave. ‘Oh, Hog …’
‘Quickly, Mr Dog,’ came a high, twittery voice from the hedgerow on the far side of the stream. ‘We must go!’
‘What?’ Mr Dog shook water from his ears. ‘Who said that?’
‘Well, it’s not the hedge, is it?’ A familiar little face with eyes as black as his nose pushed out from the greenery.
‘Hog!’ Mr Dog leaped from the water and gave his little friend a fond lick on the side of the face – before yelping at the sting of prickles. ‘How did you get out of the water?’
Hog blinked. ‘Didn’t you know hedgehogs could swim?’
‘No!’ exclaimed Mr Dog.
‘Well, neither did I,’ Hog admitted. ‘But we can! So I did. I swam right between your back legs and then crawled out to the hedgerow. I called to you but you were too busy splashing about. Now, come on!’
Mr Dog turned back to the field and stood up on his legs to see over the bank. The farmer was striding towards the stream with his gun. ‘You’re quite right, Hog. We must go at once.’ He dug furiously at the sandy turf with his paws, trying to make a space big enough to fit through.
Hog tried to help, but was soon buried in a pile of sand! He pulled himself free and beetled through to the other side of the hedge. ‘Oooh! Mr Dog, I spy a winding grey thing. I think it’s a road.’
‘Really?’ Mr Dog squeezed and squashed through his little trench beneath the hedgerow and joined Hog on the other side. A narrow, single-track road full of bumps and potholes stretched alongside the farmer’s field. ‘You’re right, Hog, it IS a road – and we’d better take it!’
Mr Dog grabbed Hog and tossed him in the air. Hog rolled up into a ball and Mr Dog made a perfect catch with his jaws – then took off at high speed. BOOM! Thunder burst from the farmer’s shotgun one more time, but Mr Dog kept running until he was safely out of sight round the corner. Then he paused, panting for breath as he placed Hog back on the ground.
‘Was that human trying to hurt you?’ asked the hedgehog.
‘I’m afraid so. He must’ve been on the hunt last night – he saw me fight off Dandy the basset, and now he thinks I’m a menace to other animals, like his sheep.’ Mr Dog sighed. ‘Farmers have to guard their flocks well in isolated spots, as help is so hard to come by.’
‘So is help for hedgehogs,’ said Hog sadly.
The two friends continued along the road, Mr Dog wanting to put a safe distance between himself and the farmer. Hog lay draped over Mr Dog’s back, snoring now and then as he snoozed. The clouds were starting to darken in the late-afternoon sky when the sound of another engine thrummed through the landscape. A car was coming!
Mr Dog quickly hid among the long grass and buttercups at the side of the road, afraid it might be the farmer. But no, this was a red Land Rover driven by an old woman, towing a trailer loaded with chopped-up logs for firewood. As the Land Rover rattled past, Mr Dog waited, poised to spring.
‘Hold on tight,’ he told Hog. Then he ran out and, with a majestic leap, landed in the trailer on the logs.
‘WHEEE!’ cried Hog through a mouthful of neckerchief as he clung to Mr Dog’s back. ‘That was an amazing jump.’
‘I believe I was a racehorse in a former life,’ said Mr Dog with a chuckle. ‘Now we can travel further, faster – and in style!’
The road wound along through fields and moors, and Mr Dog watched them go by, quietly regaining his strength. But as the trailer turned left at a junction and trundled past a stretch of woodland, he caught a sudden sniff of danger.
Hog stiffened beside him, nose twitching too. ‘I recognise that smell …’
Ahead of them, Dandy the basset was pushing out from the forest edge. Just behind him came three more dogs – a harrier, a bloodhound and a ridgeback.
‘It’s the hounds from last night!’ Mr Dog flattened himself down over the logs in the trailer. ‘They said I’d regret picking your side …’
Hog was shaking. ‘You mean they’re roaming free, and looking for us?’
Dandy sniffed the air – then turned sharply towards the trailer. His floppy ears practically stood on end as he saw Mr Dog.
‘They’re not looking for us, Hog,’ said Mr Dog grimly. ‘I’m afraid they’ve found us!’
‘There he is!’ Dandy howled. ‘I can smell that hedgehog too. After them!’
The hounds came charging after the trailer, barking and yapping. Mr Dog saw the fury in Dandy’s face. I normally get on terribly well with bassets, he reflected. It just goes to show: there are no mean dog breeds – only mean dogs.
‘We’re going too fast for them,’ Hog realised as the car accelerated away. The angry hounds grew smaller and smaller, until they were lost from view round the next corner. ‘They can’t catch up! Yay!’
‘What a relief,’ Mr Dog agreed – just as the old lady’s car began to slow down again. ‘Oh, no!’ Up ahead he could see that some cattle were being led from one field to another. They were completely blocking the road. ‘We’ll be stuck here for ages.’
‘That means that Dandy and the others will catch up with us.’ Hog had already curled into a ball. ‘Oh, no. Oh, EEEP! They’re going to get us!’
Chapter Eight
INTO THE WOODS
As the old lady’s car slowed down further, Mr Dog made a quick decision. ‘I’ve enjoyed the ride, but I think this is our stop. Come on, Hog!’ Mr Dog snatched up Hog and made an enormous leap from the still-moving trailer, clear over the top of a big clump of nettles. Hitting the ground running, he disappeared into the woods.
‘But they’re sniffy do
gs, Mr Dog!’ Hog squeaked. ‘Won’t they just follow your trail?’
‘My scent will be stronger in the trailer,’ Mr Dog panted. ‘I jumped the bush so I wouldn’t leave an obvious track. Hopefully by the time they realise we’re not hiding in the old lady’s log pile, we’ll have a good head start!’
The four hounds came yapping and barking round the corner. The trailer had stopped moving by now, and Dandy put on a burst of speed on his sturdy little legs, eager to catch up. But the cattle saw the dogs running at them and started to mill about in alarm, mooing. The farmer frowned and shouted a warning at the dogs. The harrier and the bloodhound held back, but Dandy and the ridgeback jumped on to the trailer, sniffing about furiously. The old woman got out of her car and started waving her arms at them, shooing them out.
‘So far, so good,’ said Mr Dog as Hog scrambled on to his back. ‘But we must keep moving.’
‘Where are we going?’ Hog wondered, biting hard on to Mr Dog’s red spotted neckerchief to hold on.
‘For now, anywhere that Dandy and his friends are not,’ said Mr Dog. ‘It’s the only way to keep you safe.’
The pair set off again. Mr Dog’s legs ached, but he didn’t dare stop. He knew the hounds would be able to pick up even a faint trail, given enough time. To his relief, he chanced upon a stream running through the wood and drank thirstily. ‘We must travel on through the water,’ he said. ‘That way, we’ll leave no trail or scent at all.’
‘Clever!’ Hog jumped into the stream and started paddling away. ‘You need a rest from carrying me. I’ll swim alongside you.’
Mr Dog gave him a grin and splashed into the water after him. ‘Nothing like an afternoon swim when you’re all hot and dusty, eh?’
They set off through the stream, but Mr Dog’s good mood didn’t last long. He could already hear the yap of Dandy and the hounds in the distance.
The day was turning to dusk, and Hog began to tire. Mr Dog lifted him up, dripping, from the water and jumped out on to the bank, being careful to leave no tracks.
‘Where are we going to go, Mr Dog?’ asked Hog. ‘Where can a little hedgie like me find safety?’
‘We’ll find somewhere,’ Mr Dog told him. ‘What we need is someone local … someone who knows the area …’
‘You called, pets?’ came a high, wavery voice from behind them. ‘If it’s safety for hedgies you’re after, I may be able to help!’
The voice seemed to belong to the stump of a tree. Mr Dog gently dropped Hog as another hedgehog popped up. It was a very plump and elderly hedgehog, her prickles grey but her eyes bright with wisdom.
‘How do you do,’ said Mr Dog politely. ‘I’m Mr Dog and this is Hog. And what is your name, may I ask?’
‘I’m Maura,’ said the old hedgie. ‘I am forty seasons old.’ She smiled proudly. ‘In hedgehog years, that’s about one hundred and four!’
Mr Dog’s jaw dropped. ‘To have lived for so long, you must know all the best places for a hedgie to hide!’
‘Not only that, pet. I happen to be very well bred.’ Maura raised her little twitchy nose up in the air. ‘I am descended from the very first hedgehogs on the Isle of Evan.’
‘The very first?’ Hog marvelled. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because the very first hedgehogs on this island were brought across from the mainland over a thousand seasons ago,’ Maura explained. ‘The lady who owns these lands wanted hedgies to eat the slugs and snails in her garden. Well, they did, of course, as hedgies do. And in time, they had little hoglets, and those hoglets grew up and they had hoglets …’
Mr Dog nodded. ‘So the hedgehog population grew and grew.’
Hog was fidgeting. ‘Um, please, Mr Dog, shouldn’t we be finding that place to hide?’
‘Soon, Hog. I think we’re learning the reason why hedgehogs have to hide at all.’ Mr Dog turned back to Maura and grinned. ‘The D-O-G in my surname is short for “DO-Go on” …!’
‘Thank you, pet. I shall.’ Maura seemed pleased. ‘With quiet roads, no predators and a huge amount of delicious wader eggs nearby, it was a hedgie paradise. My ancestors were the first to be brought here, yes, but soon there were thousands of hedgies on the Isle of Evan.’
‘And that must have affected the other wildlife,’ Mr Dog realised.
‘Like the wader birds!’ Hog wheezed in alarm. ‘It’s like you said, Mr Dog. The birds were always able to hatch their eggs here safely until us hedgies came along and started to eat them …’
Mr Dog nodded sadly. ‘I hate to say it, but it sounds as if Mrs Maitland was right – hedgehogs don’t belong on the Isle of Evan.’
Maura bristled. ‘It’s not my family’s fault we were kidnapped and set to work here, is it?’
‘It’s not any hedgehog’s fault,’ Hog agreed.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Mr Dog. ‘Which is why Lizzie Toddy “Busybody” is trying to deal with the situation kindly, even while Mrs Maitland and her friends are hunting you down.’
‘Lizzie Toddy, you say?’ Maura nodded. ‘Why, these woods back on to her garden, pet. Her farm is the safe place I was going to tell you about!’
‘Marvellous,’ woofed Mr Dog. ‘Which way do we go? I’m all ears!’ And he shook his shaggy ears about to prove it. As he did so, he heard distant snorting and yapping from somewhere in the woods.
‘You’d better tell us fast, Maura,’ said Hog. ‘Some hounds are coming. They must’ve picked up our scent.’
‘You’ll be in danger too, Maura,’ Mr Dog realised.
‘In my younger days, I could climb this tree,’ Maura said wistfully. ‘Hedgies are quite the climbers, you know! But as it is, I’ll just curl up.’ She demonstrated, revealing her hundreds of extra-spiky prickles. ‘No dog’s silly enough to bother me! Tatty-bye, pets!’
‘Wait! Which way do we go?’ Mr Dog pawed the ground in front of her. ‘You haven’t told us yet!’
‘No time!’ Hog cried, beetling away towards the cover of a nearby bush. ‘Run for it, Mr Dog!’ But as he vanished under the leaves, there came a clang of metal and a frightened ‘EEEP!’
Mr Dog dashed over and bit at the bush’s branches. They came away easily to reveal an old rusted cage of wire mesh beneath. ‘A vermin trap!’ he breathed. Some of the bars were bent, leaving a gap – not quite enough to let a hedgie get out, but enough for determined paws to get in.
‘I can’t leave you here, Hog,’ said Mr Dog. ‘Dandy and his friends might get you.’
Hog was shivering with fear. ‘But if you stay, they’ll get us both for sure!’
Chapter Nine
ATTACK FROM ABOVE!
Mr Dog had come across traps like this before.
The cage door had closed as Hog blundered inside and brushed against the catch. Now it was jammed tight and, though he bit at the rusty bars and pulled with all his strength, he couldn’t budge it.
The sound of the hounds crashing through the undergrowth was getting louder.
‘I’ll try to lead them away,’ Mr Dog told Hog, nudging the branches back over the cage. ‘Hopefully they’ll chase after me and lose your scent. I’ll circle round and get back to you just as soon as I can.’
Hog was rocking from side to side. ‘But what if they catch you?’
‘I’m quick on my paws,’ Mr Dog assured him. But then he heard the sound of something bigger and larger thumping through the woods.
‘What’s this?’ A woman with blonde frizzy hair, red gardening gloves and a red coat came running into sight. ‘I thought I heard woofing and the scream of a frightened hedgie …’ She scowled at Mr Dog. ‘Get away from that cage! Go on, shoo!’
Me? thought Mr Dog indignantly.
Lizzie pulled the cage from under the bush. ‘My old trap caught the hedgie before you could hurt him, thank goodness.’ She looked up at the sound of Dandy and his pack-mates crashing through the bracken, then back at Mr Dog. ‘You can’t have this hedgie. Go on, get back to your friends.’
‘They’re no friends of mine, mad
am!’ Mr Dog protested, but of course to her it only sounded like woofing, and seemed to make her crosser. She lifted the cage to head height out of any animal’s reach, wedged it in the fork of two sturdy branches in Maura’s tree and opened the door, ready to scoop Hog out from inside.
‘Get off me!’ squealed Hog, wriggling away from her fingers. ‘Help!’
‘She won’t hurt you, Hog,’ barked Mr Dog. ‘This is Lizzie, she wants to help …’
Lizzie looked again at Mr Dog. ‘Wait a moment. Hey, didn’t I see you at the harbour yesterday? Are you the stray dog that Moaning Minnie Maitland’s been on about?’
Mr Dog quickly sat down and offered a paw as a show of friendship.
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You don’t seem very wild and dangerous to me …’
‘But those hounds are!’ Hog was looking through the bars of his cage and trembling. ‘Run, Mr Dog! The sniffy dogs are coming!’
The next moment, Dandy came thundering through the undergrowth, barking ferociously. Mr Dog reared up in alarm, and the ridgeback came flying at him and knocked him over backwards. Mr Dog quickly rolled and got back to his paws – only for the bloodhound and the harrier to hare up and knock him down again. Mr Dog fell, winded, barking in warning, but the other dogs yapped louder.
‘No!’ Lizzie said sternly – leaving Hog in the cage up in the tree, she quickly jumped between Mr Dog and the hounds. ‘Four against one isn’t fair, is it? Where are your owners? Get off with you.’
But the hounds did not back down. ‘She can’t keep you safe from us,’ Dandy yapped. ‘Nobody can!’
But Mr Dog wasn’t looking at the blustering basset any more. His eyes were fixed on Hog, who’d now crept out of the cage … and, perhaps inspired by Maura’s talk of climbing hedgehogs, was starting to wriggle up the tree branch!