A day of events
Unfortunately, walking to London takes a lot longer than it does taking a train there. But I knew I could do it. I kept a steady speech running through my head, which motivated me to move as fast as I could. The speech said: I am a survivor. I am strong. My mother was a golden retriever who brought ducks back to my first master and made sure we exercised. My father was a hell-hound who was muscular and tough. I have inherited those traits. I have been able to run for miles after a man, and survived falling off a cliff. Walking with an injured leg to get back to the home I love will be difficult, but if I can do those things, I can do anything.
Despite the speech and my determination, I still had a difficult time. I had to dive out of the way every time I saw or heard a train coming, which happened almost every hour. I had to stop every time I saw a lake so I could have a drink and soak my leg. On top of that, I had nothing to eat, and I always went to sleep on an empty stomach. My hours on the track varied, as I would walk until night fell and I reached a station. It could be midnight when I found a station, or it could be dusk when I found something. In the morning, I would see what station I was at, figure out how much farther I had to go, and I'd be off again.
It was around my tenth day on the road when three important things happened to me. The first was an old Times newspaper that I came upon in the morning. I wanted a break in my monotony, so I pawed through it, looking for an interesting article. When I saw the second leading article, my blood froze and I read that article as quickly as I could.
Sherlock Holmes catches Crook, but sustains double loss.
The legendary Sherlock Holmes, who has been invaluably helpful to the London police many times before, has finally left a case unfinished. Two
weeks ago, the police were called in to find the murderer of Sir Arthur Bennett. The murderer also took a black box full of valuables that had been
in Sir Bennett's safe.
Sir Arthur's daughter, Nancy Bennett, not only contacted the police,
but also Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "I believed that Mr. Holmes, with his
brilliant powers of deduction, would be able to find the murderer much faster than the Police." She told reporters. A day after taking the case,
Holmes returned to London with the murderer. It turned out to be Jack Bennett, son of Sir Arthur. Mr. Bennett had murdered his father because he
had heard that he was not to be left anything in his father's will.
But though the criminal has been found, the valuables have not been recovered. Though police have searched Mr. Bennett's house thoroughly, no trace of the objects has been found. "It's very baffling," Said Inspector
Lestrade, "We've questioned Mr. Bennett, but he won't say a thing."
Meanwhile, Holmes' ego must be bruised somewhat, as the rapid find of the criminal was credited, not to Mr. Holmes, but to his dog, Elizabeth. Holmes' partner, Dr. Watson, explained the reason. "She found the scent of the man, followed it, chased the man for five miles, and then held him down
until Holmes' could get to him."
Unfortunately, Elizabeth fell off a cliff as she held Mr. Bennett
down, and is now dead. Holmes now offers ten pounds to anyone who can
provide him with a new dog.
I wanted to scream. Holmes was looking for a new dog already? Didn't he feel any remorse for my loss? No, I decided angrily, he might have an ego but he has no emotions. That settled it for me. I was going to quicken my pace and get to London faster, so that I could give Holmes a piece of my mind. I leapt up and started my journey, walking faster than ever, the newspaper article clutched tightly in my mouth.
The second thing that happened occurred around noon. I was passing by a lake and stopped as usual to quench my thirst. But as I was dipping my leg in the water, I heard a muted thud. Something had to be down there. I dipped my head down and had a look. It was a small black chest. My heart leapt. I quickly looked at the article again "The murderer also took a black box full of valuables." I grabbed the hook that served as the handle of the box in my teeth and hauled as hard as I could. For a box full of valuables it was surprisingly light, and it came up rather easily. I laid it on the ground and nudged it open. I was stunned at its contents. It was empty. Did Mr. Bennett hide the valuables somewhere else? I mused, or was Sir Bennett absentminded and didn't put anything in here? Or, I thought, realization sweeping over me, did Sir Bennett think something like this would happen? Did he hide his valuables in the box in a hidden pocket? I had to find out.
I sniffed all around it, prodding, poking, the whole thing. Finally, I found it. A hard nudge at the back right corner opened the black covering to reveal the objects underneath. One glance told me why they were valuables. There was a watch, a diamond necklace, several old coins, and a beautiful ruby. I gazed at the treasure with wonder for a minute. Then reality stepped in. I needed to get this back to Miss Bennett. But how to carry it? I glanced around, and my eye fell upon the tattered remains of my leash, which Holmes had released so that I could run better. Perfect.
I wriggled my collar off, bit off the leash, and slipped the loop of the leash onto the small hook. Then I put the paper in the box, took the other end in my mouth and began to drag the treasure towards home.
But the third thing occurred in the evening. The sun was setting, and I began to look for a station. As I did so, I realized that I didn't know where I was. I'd been so mad about the article that I'd failed to check the map to see where I was. Brilliant, I thought, now I'm lost, I'm hurt, and I'm dragging at least 1,000 pounds worth of valuables along a railroad track. I couldn't take it anymore. Everything that had happened to me ever since I'd caught Mr. Bennett boiled up inside me, and I dropped my leash and let out a long, despairing howl. I was so tired and miserable that I wanted to throw myself in front of the next train. And as if my howl was magical, the lights of a station glimmered faintly about ten feet away. I knew it would do me no good to kill myself, so I grudgingly picked up the leash and dragged myself to the station.
I got into the station and immediately went to the map. I took a quick look.and I dropped my leash in shock. I was in London. I'd made it home.
Unfortunately, walking to London takes a lot longer than it does taking a train there. But I knew I could do it. I kept a steady speech running through my head, which motivated me to move as fast as I could. The speech said: I am a survivor. I am strong. My mother was a golden retriever who brought ducks back to my first master and made sure we exercised. My father was a hell-hound who was muscular and tough. I have inherited those traits. I have been able to run for miles after a man, and survived falling off a cliff. Walking with an injured leg to get back to the home I love will be difficult, but if I can do those things, I can do anything.
Despite the speech and my determination, I still had a difficult time. I had to dive out of the way every time I saw or heard a train coming, which happened almost every hour. I had to stop every time I saw a lake so I could have a drink and soak my leg. On top of that, I had nothing to eat, and I always went to sleep on an empty stomach. My hours on the track varied, as I would walk until night fell and I reached a station. It could be midnight when I found a station, or it could be dusk when I found something. In the morning, I would see what station I was at, figure out how much farther I had to go, and I'd be off again.
It was around my tenth day on the road when three important things happened to me. The first was an old Times newspaper that I came upon in the morning. I wanted a break in my monotony, so I pawed through it, looking for an interesting article. When I saw the second leading article, my blood froze and I read that article as quickly as I could.
Sherlock Holmes catches Crook, but sustains double loss.
The legendary Sherlock Holmes, who has been invaluably helpful to the London police many times before, has finally left a case unfinished. Two
weeks ago, the police were called in to find the murderer of Sir Arthur Bennett. The murderer also took a black box full of valuables that had been
in Sir Bennett's safe.
Sir Arthur's daughter, Nancy Bennett, not only contacted the police,
but also Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "I believed that Mr. Holmes, with his
brilliant powers of deduction, would be able to find the murderer much faster than the Police." She told reporters. A day after taking the case,
Holmes returned to London with the murderer. It turned out to be Jack Bennett, son of Sir Arthur. Mr. Bennett had murdered his father because he
had heard that he was not to be left anything in his father's will.
But though the criminal has been found, the valuables have not been recovered. Though police have searched Mr. Bennett's house thoroughly, no trace of the objects has been found. "It's very baffling," Said Inspector
Lestrade, "We've questioned Mr. Bennett, but he won't say a thing."
Meanwhile, Holmes' ego must be bruised somewhat, as the rapid find of the criminal was credited, not to Mr. Holmes, but to his dog, Elizabeth. Holmes' partner, Dr. Watson, explained the reason. "She found the scent of the man, followed it, chased the man for five miles, and then held him down
until Holmes' could get to him."
Unfortunately, Elizabeth fell off a cliff as she held Mr. Bennett
down, and is now dead. Holmes now offers ten pounds to anyone who can
provide him with a new dog.
I wanted to scream. Holmes was looking for a new dog already? Didn't he feel any remorse for my loss? No, I decided angrily, he might have an ego but he has no emotions. That settled it for me. I was going to quicken my pace and get to London faster, so that I could give Holmes a piece of my mind. I leapt up and started my journey, walking faster than ever, the newspaper article clutched tightly in my mouth.
The second thing that happened occurred around noon. I was passing by a lake and stopped as usual to quench my thirst. But as I was dipping my leg in the water, I heard a muted thud. Something had to be down there. I dipped my head down and had a look. It was a small black chest. My heart leapt. I quickly looked at the article again "The murderer also took a black box full of valuables." I grabbed the hook that served as the handle of the box in my teeth and hauled as hard as I could. For a box full of valuables it was surprisingly light, and it came up rather easily. I laid it on the ground and nudged it open. I was stunned at its contents. It was empty. Did Mr. Bennett hide the valuables somewhere else? I mused, or was Sir Bennett absentminded and didn't put anything in here? Or, I thought, realization sweeping over me, did Sir Bennett think something like this would happen? Did he hide his valuables in the box in a hidden pocket? I had to find out.
I sniffed all around it, prodding, poking, the whole thing. Finally, I found it. A hard nudge at the back right corner opened the black covering to reveal the objects underneath. One glance told me why they were valuables. There was a watch, a diamond necklace, several old coins, and a beautiful ruby. I gazed at the treasure with wonder for a minute. Then reality stepped in. I needed to get this back to Miss Bennett. But how to carry it? I glanced around, and my eye fell upon the tattered remains of my leash, which Holmes had released so that I could run better. Perfect.
I wriggled my collar off, bit off the leash, and slipped the loop of the leash onto the small hook. Then I put the paper in the box, took the other end in my mouth and began to drag the treasure towards home.
But the third thing occurred in the evening. The sun was setting, and I began to look for a station. As I did so, I realized that I didn't know where I was. I'd been so mad about the article that I'd failed to check the map to see where I was. Brilliant, I thought, now I'm lost, I'm hurt, and I'm dragging at least 1,000 pounds worth of valuables along a railroad track. I couldn't take it anymore. Everything that had happened to me ever since I'd caught Mr. Bennett boiled up inside me, and I dropped my leash and let out a long, despairing howl. I was so tired and miserable that I wanted to throw myself in front of the next train. And as if my howl was magical, the lights of a station glimmered faintly about ten feet away. I knew it would do me no good to kill myself, so I grudgingly picked up the leash and dragged myself to the station.
I got into the station and immediately went to the map. I took a quick look.and I dropped my leash in shock. I was in London. I'd made it home.