branches and vanished.
Every now and then we dipped down into the shadowy wood and danced
like red Indians among the bushes and ferns. Sometimes we made a halt in
a clearing densely covered with wild strawberries or an old cutting where
bumble-bees were droning like heavy bullets among the high willow-herbs
and snap-dragons.
And we also enjoyed stopping above a big tree and carefully tweaking
the topmost leaf of a birch or a soft pine sprig as if tickling the pate
of a sleeping giant.
The forest's little secrets, the slow flight and warm wind cast a
spell on us and caused us to lose all track of time. We had not taken a
watch with us but could tell by the sun that it was well past midday.
And our stomachs were clamouring for food.
"Let's fly over and have lunch at that tower," suggested Vitalka.
"And then make our way home. We've had enough for the first time."
The large geodesic log tower was looming above the wood about two
kilometres away. It did not look at all like our watchtower but the mere
word conjured up a cosy and relaxed atmosphere.
"All right but let's get a move on," I agreed.
We let the carpet fly at top speed. The wind, ceasing at once to be
warm, flattened our hair, blocked our ears, shoved its hairy paws inside
our shirts and whistled like a gale. It grew chilly, and we were soon
covered in goose flesh.
Of course, we had not thought of taking any warm clothes along, so we
were obliged to slow down.
"Never mind," said Vitalka. "What's the hurry? Here we are!"
We had intended to land and have lunch on one of the tower's wooden
landings but, drawing nearer, we spotted a forest lake encircled by strip
of sandy beach nestling among the pines.
We, of course, whooped with joy, skimmed over the sand and rolled off
the carpet. The sand was warm, dry and mixed with brittle pine needles
and little hedgehog-like cones but we did not mind that at all. The
bottom of the lake was hard and flat and its dark clear water was lovely
and warm.
We had a dip, ate half of our supplies, dug ourselves into the sand
and dozed for a while. Then we had another dip, ate a little more and
swam again.
"We ought to be leaving..." said Vitalka reluctantly.
"Mmm," I replied. "Let's have just one more dip."
At last we pulled our clothes onto our wet bodies and flew higher up
so that the wind and sun should dry us quickly.
"Look!" shouted Vitalka.
Standing along in a large clearing not far from the lake was a house
with nothing but trees all around.
"Shall we check it out?" asked Vitalka.
So we cautiously flew down very close to the dark humpbacked roof
whose rotten planks were covered with velvety green moss.
We could tell at once that nobody had lived there for a long time
because untrampled long grass was growing all around its sagging porch.
So far we had come across little forest mysteries, but this abandoned
house presented us with a serious one.
So how could we fly off without finding out about it?
Chapter Ten
Unlike an ordinary village hut, the house had big windows, ornamental
railings round its porch and carved wooden doors. And as these doors were
ajar, we carefully stepped inside.
The entry was empty except for a brown butterfly sitting on a racked
dry tub and as soon as we came in, it flew out through the sunny gap in
the door. We walked into the kitchen and were confronted by the dark
gaping oven of an old-fashioned stove whose upper part was inlaid with
green tiles. Some unpainted wooden stools were scattered about in a
corner. Sitting on the broad table was a little grey creature, which was
gone in a flash through the broken window before we had time to identify
it. And all that was left on the table were the shells of some seeds or
other.
We tiptoed round the two rooms, and the floor-boards sagged gently
underfoot. Here and there the remnants of paint still on them glinted in
the sunlight. The rooms contained a few pieces of furniture, such as a
rusty bedstead, some shoddy chairs, and a book-case with broken glass
panels standing about half a metre away from the wall as if someone had
tried to carry it out of the house and then given up.
I was just going to look behind the case when all of a sudden there
was a loud rumbling sound outside. We both started. The rumbling sound
came again, the windows grew darker and the golden spots on the cobweb in
a corner vanished.
We rushed out onto the porch. Rolling towards us from behind the
trees came a dark-blue stormcloud, which had just swallowed up the sun.
Only straight narrow rays were shining out over the shaggy ridge of cloud
heading towards us fast.
"The carpet!" I cried.
We quickly rolled up our carpet and dragged it inside. And we were in
the nick of time. Huge drops of rain began pelting the tops of the grass,
the porch and the window-panels and then the rain began pouring down. It
crashed against the roof and we felt as though we were inside a drum.
Then came a pink flash and a bang so loud that we clapped our ears shut
and huddled against a wall.
"Now we're caught," whispered Vitalka.
"Perhaps it'll stop soon?" I said not very confidently and sank even
lower because there was another, even louder clap of thunder.
It became chilly and draughty. Stinging splashes of rain were flying
through the broken panes and the damp wind was forcing its way through
the doors which we could not shut because they had sunk on their hinges
and become wedged long ago. And, anyway, with such a storm raging outside
it was rather frightening to tear yourself away from the wall and go over
to the doors.
The storm raged for a long time. In fact, it seemed as if a whole
week had passed and not just one thunderstorm but all the thunderstorms
in the world had brewed over the old house in order to drench, blind and
deafen two little boys...
At last the thunder claps grew quieter and the sound of the rain
steadier.
"It's moving away," said Vitalka with a sigh of relief.
But he was wrong. The rain was now quiet and monotonous but it
refused to stop.
"What a nuisance!" said Vitalka despondently. "What if it goes on
like this for several days?"
It was fearful to contemplate. It would take us at least a week to
get home on foot and, anyway, we did not even know the way. Poor Mum and
poor Auntie Valya would be imagining the most terrible things! And poor
us, of course! We'd get the worst punishment of our lives. And poor
magic carpet - it was bound to be taken away from us...
"But perhaps it won't go on for that long. It doesn't sound like the
kind that drags on and on," said Vitalka more cheerfully. "Why worry
about it now?"
Not wishing to seem dejected, I remarked that we used to only dream
of having adventures and now here we were actually having one.
"After all, we were lucky to find the house," said Vitalka. "What
would've happened if we'd been caught out in the wood?"
Yes, indeed! The chilly old house seemed more friendly at once. I
stared gratefully up at the peeling ceiling and listened to the rain
pattering above it.
"We can sleep here tonight," I suggested. "And still get home in time
tomorrow, and we've got some bread left..."
It was growing dark outside. Something was groaning and creaking in
the corners. It was rather scary and we were chilled to the bone, but at
least we were together and our flying-carpet was with us.
We rolled it out along the wall opposite the book-case, lay down on
one half and covered ourselves completely with the other. Then we huddled
closely to one another in its soft warmth, and, although our feet were in
a draught, on the whole, we were fine. And even the rain echoing through
the empty house now sounded harmless and soothing.
It was an interesting house. Who could have lived here? Foresters?
Hunters? Geologists? Or just someone who enjoyed peace and quiet?
And why and when did they leave? Who knew? Perhaps, a year ago or
perhaps long before we were even born...
Vitalka and I whispered about this for a while and then dropped off
to sleep.
I do not know why I woke up. Vitalka was breathing warmly on my
cheek. The rain had stopped and ragged clouds were speeding over the
black trees outside. Every now and then a bright moon bounced out from
behind them like a little ball and lit up the room.
There was a strange incomplete silence which was being disturbed by a
loud ticking sound.
I prodded Vitalka. He mumbled something, smacked his lips and woke
up.
"Listen!" I ordered.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... It was coming from somewhere behind the
book-case.
"Raindrops? A cricket? No it's..."
I became scared. I don't know why but I became really scared. And I
think Vitalka did, too. But it was even more frightening lying there and
not knowing whether it was someone's light footsteps or someone's heart
beating...
Vitalka slowly threw back the carpet and got up. And then I did too,
shivering in the damp and chilly night air.
Holding hands tightly, we tiptoed towards the book-case. The moon
bounced out again and dutifully shone through the window. And as was to
be expected in a spooky house the floorboards creaked.
We glanced behind the book-case and saw another door leading into a
third room which we had not noticed before.
And it was from that room that the ticking was coming.
Shoulders abreast, we squeezed through the door into a small room
with one window, which was dark because the moon was shining on the other
side. Vitalka switched on his torch and a yellow disc of light slipped
across the wall and fell upon a wall clock.
So that was what was ticking in the silence with its pendulum
swinging regularly to and fro!
We clutched onto each other. We couldn't have been more scared even
if we had seen a ghost or a robber.
Yes, the clock was working!
The house had been abandoned long ago and was standing empty but the
clock was ticking away in the same peaceful and ordinary way as the one
in our kitchen at home!
Who lived here? Whose invisible hand had pulled the clock's weight?
Who had weighted it down with a large old-fashioned key? (We did the same
at home with a pair of broken pliers. You often had to with old clocks).
We probably would not have felt so terrified in the daylight, but
this ticking clock in the abandoned house now seemed very eerie indeed.
We quietly backed away from it, our shoulders still close together and
our shoulder-blades pressed against the wall by the window. Vitalka went
on lighting up the clock with his torch as if afraid that something
dreadful might happen if he let it slip out of sight.
"Perhaps someone came here before us today?" I asked in an anxious
whisper. "And got it going?"
Vitalka's shoulder twitched in annoyance - he obviously disagreed.
After all, there were no footprints anywhere in the house or in the grass
by the porch.
"Then perhaps..." I began again, not knowing what I was going to
say...
Vitalka nudged me with his elbow.
Besides the ticking sound there was also a light patter on the
floorboards as if someone was coming towards our room. Quietly but
confidently.
Vitalka switched off his torch and we held our breath and squatted
down.
Although my eyes had still not get used to the semi-darkness, I
already made out the gap of the open door, the window ledges, the white
clock-face, the large cracks in the dull grey wall and then suddenly the
outline of the newcomer against it.
It was a wild animal.
It came into the room tapping across the floor with its claws and
stopped warily.
Vitalka flicked on his torch, whether on purpose or from fright I do
not know and the light wavered about the room and then fell on the
animal.
It was a dog. A large ginger dog with long ears! It shook its head
and blinked in the light but did not jump back, snarl or bark and then it
came up silently and poked its wet nose into my knees.
It was such a pleasant surprise that my fear vanished instantly and I
at once felt sure it was a kind dog and that it was pleased to see us.
And no longer in the least scared, I hugged its neck, tousled its long
ears and, delighted by the happy end to our terrifying adventure, said to
it, "What a fright you gave us, doggie, nice dog you."
The dog wagged its tail so hard that we felt a breeze about our legs.
Vitalka asked, "Who are you? Where's your master?"
But it went on wagging its tail, poking its nose into my arm-pit and
pressing its shaggy side against me.
Yes, where indeed was its master? He would most likely show up any
moment. What would he be like? What if he wasn't as friendly as his dog?
A short loud thud made us start, but it was only the clock's weight
which had jerked down several centimetres and was now swinging to and fro
with the heavy key just above the floor.
But the dog lifted its head from my arm-pit, pricked its ears and
then did something that took our breath away.
It went up to the clock, stood on its hind legs with its front ones
propped up against the wall, grabbed the chain between its teeth, and
sent the weight and key whirring upwards. Then it jumped down, waved its
tail and glanced at us.
"Why, you clever dog!" I said.
"It hasn't got a master," Vitalka said with relief. "They've all gone
away and left it all on its own. That's who winds up the clock."
"But why?"
"Who knows? Perhaps it's used to a clock ticking in the house. It's
waiting for people to come back and reckons the clock's something very
important. Maybe it used to wind it up when there were people about and
doesn't want to stop going so now..."
I felt sorry for the dog and wanted to do something nice for it, to
help it in some way.
"Come here, dog," I called. "Have you been ditched?"
It came up again and put its head on my knees. Some fur and tiny
feathers were sticking round its mouth.
"It's just wolfed something up," said Vitalka.
I hated to think that such a lovely dog could eat another animal, but
Vitalka went on, "Of course, it has. What else can it do? Since it's been
abandoned, it's got to feed itself, so it goes out hunting."
Fancy abandoning a dog like this! What sort of people were they?!
"Fancy abandoning a dog!" I said indignantly. "It's probably been
living here alone for years waiting..."
"How do we know what happened?" Vitalka argued reasonably, "Perhaps
it was nobody's fault..."
But I did not want to think it was nobody's fault. How could it be?
The dog had been abandoned and was now living all on its own and
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