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“Graf? But ... I thought Graf died ten years ago in that fire at the Showgrounds?” Suka stared at him.
The shaggy dog sighed. “That’s what everyone thought.”
He moved slowly past them to the mouth of the cave and stepped outside. They all followed him. The wind seemed to be dying down now and the rain was slowing. The skies were brightening up a bit. It looked like the storm was over ... for now.
Graf walked stiffly to the edge of the overhang and looked out across the field. Now that he was out in the light, Honey was able to get a good look at him for the first time. He was old—very old—his back legs splayed with arthritis and his eyes filmy with cataracts. She could see the thick dreadlocks now that covered his face and body—the typical coat of the Puli—although his were no longer white. Living out here in the wild with no bath or grooming, his coat had become a dirty greyish-brown colour, with darker stains around his head and paws. From a distance, it was difficult to even make out the shape of his body—he just looked like one big, dirty mop. It was hard to believe that he was once a champion show dog.
“You mean, you escaped the fire? But ... I don’t understand.” Ruffster scratched his ear in confusion. “Why didn’t you go back and let everyone know?”
“Yes, they were searching for you for days.” Biscuit nodded. “One of the older Beagles told me. He was in the search party ten years ago. He said your human was going crazy.”
“My human?” Graf’s ears perked up.
“She still hasn’t forgotten you,” said Honey. “The Royal Show is back at the Showgrounds this year for the first time since the fire and she’s come back too. I saw her looking at your picture on the wall. She was crying.”
Suka wagged her fluffy tail excitedly. “Howling Hyenas, she’s going to be so happy when she sees you again!”
Graf sighed again and looked away. “I can’t go back.”
“Why not, mate?” Ruffster gaped at him. “You don’t want to go on livin’ out here! Reckon it’s a miracle you haven’t starved to death.”
“I can catch things,” said Graf. “And there’s a big farm on the other side of this hill where they throw out loads of rubbish. I go and scavenge there sometimes. The cave is warm and dry. I’ve been here nearly ten years now and I’ve been OK.”
“Aw, c’mon, mate,” said Ruffster incredulously. “You’re not serious? Dogs aren’t supposed to live all alone.”
Graf sat down and hung his head. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back. I ... I’m too ashamed,” he said in a low voice.
“Ashamed?” Suka and Biscuit looked at him in confusion.
Ruffster cocked his head. “Mate, what are you talkin’ about? Why would you be ashamed to go back?”
Honey stared at Graf, her mind whirling. She looked at his shaggy, matted coat, at the way the colour darkened around his head, especially around one of his ears. She thought of that picture of the dog that looked so like him, except with the one grey ear. And she thought of that message they had deciphered in those paper fragments: “WHITE DYE CAUTION: FLAMMABLE”. Suddenly everything fell into place.
“I think I know why,” she said gently.
Graf turned to look at her and it was not horror that she saw in his brown eyes, but relief. Relief that somebody had discovered his guilty secret at last.
“You cheated ten years ago, didn’t you?” said Honey. “One of your ears isn’t white—it’s a sort of dark grey colour, but your human dyed it white. I saw a picture of you with your real ear colour; your human was carrying it around with her.”
Graf sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. The breed standard for Pulis says that we have to be a solid colour. If our coats are parti-coloured—you know, with large patches of another colour—then we would be disqualified from the show ring. My human said I was perfect in every way—the only thing wrong with me was my left ear with its patch of grey fur. It was just slightly bigger than the two inches allowed, you know. My human ...” Graf faltered. “She was young and she really wanted to win. She said ... she said it was stupid to lose just because of some hairs being the wrong colour. So she said we could cover it up with a bit of white dye and nobody would ever know.” He hung his head.
Honey glanced at the others, then looked back at Graf. “We found some paper scraps in the storeroom ... I think they were from the label of the bottle of white dye that your human used to dye your ear. There was an accident, wasn’t there? And the white dye, which is really flammable, caught fire. That’s what started that terrible fire ten years ago.”
Graf hung his head even more. “We hid and did it in the storeroom before the show. After the show, my human rushed back there to get rid of the dye and stuff. But she was so scared that people would come in and see what we were doing. She was trying to do things faster and ... I don’t know what happened ... I think she must have spilled some of the dye.” He shuddered at the memory. “There was one of those smoky white sticks that humans like to put in their mouths, on the floor. Somebody must have been in the storeroom earlier and thrown it on the floor. It was just a little stub, but it was still burning. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly, there was smoke and flames everywhere and people screaming and dogs barking ... I just ran—and kept on running. When I finally looked around, I was in the field. I saw the hill and I came here.”
Honey said eagerly, “That’s what the Phantom Hound was trying to tell me—and that’s why he led us here!”
“Phantom Hound?” Graf looked up in puzzlement.
“Haven’t you seen him? He’s supposed to keep coming out here,” Honey said. “I’ve seen him a few times ... he’s a grey, ghostly dog ... almost like a Weimaraner.”
Graf stared. “That sounds like Oskar. He was a Weimaraner with the most beautiful pale, grey coat. They used to joke and call him ‘the grey ghost’.” He hung his head again. “Oskar got second place—‘Reserve Best in Show’—but he really should have been the champion. If I hadn’t cheated, he would have won. Instead, Oskar lost his life. I saw him when I was running from the fire. There was so much smoke everywhere ... he ... he didn’t make it.”
“Do you think the Phantom Hound is really Oskar?” asked Suka. “My Boy has this book of ghost stories and he says ghosts sometimes hang around when something wrong has been done. They can’t rest until the wrong has been set right.”
Honey nodded. She looked at Graf. “You need to go back.”
Graf shook his head fearfully. “No.”
“You have to,” said Honey. “You’re the only one who can set things right. Everybody should know the truth about what happened.”
“I ... I can’t! Then everybody would know that I cheated! And that it was my fault that the fire started and Oskar died!” cried Graf, taking a step back.
“Reckon the fire was an accident. And anyway, it wasn’t really you, mate, was it?” said Ruffster. “It’s really your human who was doing the cheatin’ so she should take the blame.”
“Yes, but I kept quiet about it,” said Graf, hanging his head. “I could have at least told the other dogs, but I didn’t. Everybody thought I’d won because I was the best dog in the show, but it was all a lie. I won by cheating.”
“You can still set things right,” urged Honey.
Graf hesitated for a second, then sighed and shook his head. “No. It’s too late now.” He turned away and walked back into the cave.
They sat and looked at each other uncertainly, unsure what to do next. The wind was picking up again, whistling as it blew around the boulders at the top of the hill. Finally, Suka stood up and shook herself. Glancing at the sky, she said, “Shouldn’t we be heading back? It’s starting to get dark. And it might rain again.” She looked back out across the fields to the Showgrounds in the distance. “I’ve got to get back to my Boy.”
Ruffster nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want to be crossin’ that boggy field in the dark again.”
Reluctantly, Honey agreed and they all stood up to go. Suka looked at the cave, but no dog came out to join them. She shrugged, then started down the hill with Ruffster and Biscuit at her heels. Honey hesitated, looking back towards the cave. She could see Graf still sitting there, his eyes wistful but scared. She started to turn away and follow her friends, then stopped and walked back to the mouth of the cave.
“Graf, it’s not too late,” she said gently. “I know you’ve done something wrong and you’re scared of people finding out. But running away isn’t the answer. You can’t hide here, alone, forever. I know you want to come back, to see your human again.”
The Puli looked away.
Honey stepped closer. “Sometimes you have to face up to what you’ve done, to tell the truth—even if it might be scary. I think everyone will understand. And ... and if the Phantom Hound really is Oskar, then this is the best way you can make it up to him. By letting everybody know the truth and giving him the credit that he deserved.”
She touched Graf’s nose with her own, then turned and started down the hill. She could feel his eyes on her back, watching her as she walked away.