The column of dust approached rapidly.
"It is a dog," said Mr. Lavender, "it's Blink."
The female sheep-dog, almost flat with the ground from speed, emerged
from the dust, wild with hair and anxiety, white on the cheeks and chest
and top of the head, and grey in the body and the very little tail, and
passed them like a streak of lightning.
"Get on!" cried Mr. Lavender, excited; "follow her she's trying to catch
us up!"
Joe urged on the car, which responded gallantly, swaying from side to
side, while the gas-bag bellied and shook; but the faster it went the
faster the sheep-dog flew in front of it.
"This is dreadful!" said Mr. Lavender in anguish, leaning far out.
"Blink! Blink!"
His cries were drowned in the roar of the car.
"Damn the brute!" muttered Joe, "at this rate she'll be over the edge in
'alf a mo'. Wherever does she think we are?"
"Blink! Blink!" wailed Mr. Lavender. "Get on, Joe, get on! She's gaining
on us!"
"Well I never see anything like this," said Joe, "chasin' wot's chasing
you! Hi! Hi!"
Urged on by their shouts and the noise of the pursuing car, the poor dog
redoubled her efforts to rejoin her master, and Mr. Lavender, Joe, and
the car, which had begun to emit the most lamentable creaks and odours,
redoubled theirs.
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