THE FOLLOWING DAY the sun baked down again. The ground was dry and hard and Michael poured a can of water on the embers to make sure the fire was out. Eily fixed up the food bag, wrapping the leftover fish in a large leaf. It was a grand day for travelling. They crossed through a field of rye, pulling as many ears as they could, then they moved back up alongside the winding country boreen.
After a while the children became aware of the distant barking of dogs. The sound got closer. From the corner of her eye, Eily spotted the dogs following behind. There were six of them, a crazed-looking lot. Their leader was a large black collie, and there were two other collies and three mongrels. Their hair was matted and filthy and they panted heavily, their mouths hanging open. Their bodies were bony and scrawny, and two of them had the mange. But it was their eyes that frightened Eily. They were mad and staring.
‘Don’t make any sudden moves,’ whispered Eily, ‘just walk slow and steady. Don’t try to run.’
The three of them were totally petrified. The dogs drew nearer and two of the collies began to circle in and out between their legs. The children froze to the spot, barely daring to breathe. Peggy had closed her eyes tightly. The collie’s nose and mouth were close to her upper leg. She began to tremble from head to toe. The dog had bared its teeth and a low growl came from deep within its throat. Two of the mongrels bared their jaws too and joined in the growling.
This was too much for little Peggy to bear. She snapped out of her trance and tried to run, but in a flash the collie had pulled itself up on its forelegs. She pushed it off, but it sank its jaws into her arm and started to drag the limb back and forth as if trying to pull the bone from its socket. Peggy was screaming and howling with pain.
Eily felt paralysed watching what was happening. She could not even get a sound to come from her mouth. The other dogs, emboldened, had moved in. Eily suddenly snapped out of it as Michael flung stones at the dogs. She started to shout at them and pelted a young collie and a vicious-looking mongrel that had only one ear. They barked with the pain. Michael was frantically searching around in the ditch. Eily tried to pull the crazed collie that was holding Peggy by the scruff of the neck, but he would not let go his grip. Peggy was half-kneeling at this stage under the weight and exhaustion. In another few seconds he would have her down on the ground. A small terrier nipped at Eily’s heels until they bled.
Suddenly, Eily could hardly believe what she saw. Michael came charging with a short thick branch of a tree. He swung it at the collie, who didn’t even notice or care, he was in such a frenzy. Michael began to belt it on the head. Peggy’s eyes had closed and her knees were bent under her. Michael kept on hitting and hitting the dog. Finally it yelped with pain, releasing the arm a bit. Michael made a final smash and the animal collapsed dead in the dust.
Eily ran to Peggy. The little girl’s face was ashen. She was too shaken even to cry.
‘Oh God, it’s all right, pet, he’s dead – the rest are gone – you’re all right, Peggy, the bad dogs are gone.’ Eily didn’t know whether she was trying to reassure herself or Peggy.
Michael stood at the side of the road. He was bent over, getting sick after the shock.
Eily got the water can. First of all she held it to Peggy’s lips, forcing her to drink some to revive her. Then she poured it over the middle part of her arm, between the wrist and elbow, washing away the blood and saliva. Deep puncture marks made by the teeth covered the arm, and part of the skin had been torn and was bleeding heavily. Luckily, Eily had kept the cloths she had torn for Michael’s leg and had washed and boiled them and dried them out. She got some of Mary Kate’s ointment, rubbed it in gently and then bandaged up the arm. Peggy’s breathing was becoming more regular and a bit of colour was coming back to her face. Eily also bathed the nips on her own heels and put a dab of ointment on them.
Michael sat on the stone wall, his head in his hands. His black curly hair clung damply to his forehead. Eily went over to him and hugged him.
‘I don’t like killing things, Eily,’ he murmured.
‘I know, Michael, but you saved Peggy, and anyway that poor demented creature is better off dead,’ she said.
‘I suppose so,’ was his reluctant reply.
Peggy was very scared and shaken, but was ready after about an hour’s rest to go on further. If they followed this road they would be in the town of Ballycarbery by morning.