Red Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

Nancy, her fingers shaking with anxiety, telephoned the transport section of Hamersley Iron. She rang when the men were having smoko, and got through almost straight away. ‘Is John there?’ she asked. ‘It’s really important.’
    John came to the phone, and as he listened to Nancy, his face turned pale. ‘It’s about Red,’ said Nancy.
    ‘Why what’s happened? What’s up?’
    ‘Look, John, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Red’s been shot.’
    ‘Shot? What d’you mean, shot?’
    ‘I found him, just now. He was dragging himself along the road, near Seven Mile Creek. Someone’s shot him.’
    What John said next, about whoever it was that had shot his dog, can be left to the imagination. He swore and cursed, and then, realising that Nancy was still on the phone, he said, ‘Sorry about that, Nance, I couldn’t help it.’
    ‘It’s all right, John,’ she said, ‘I’ve been feeling the same way. You’ve got to be sick in the head to go round shooting dogs.’
    ‘Where is he?’ asked John.
    ‘Well, I had Patsy in the car and she’s stayed with him at Seven Mile Creek while I came in to find a phonebox. Look, I’m nearly out of coins. I’ll get back there and wait for you, OK?’
    John put down the phone and, white-faced, worried and angry, turned to the blokes who had been listening to his side of the conversation, with their cups of tea halfway to their lips. ‘Where’s the nearest vet?’ he asked.
    ‘Port Hedland,’ said Jocko, who was originally from Scotland, but had been in the Pilbara for several years.
    ‘Strewth, that’s four hours’ drive,’ exclaimed John. ‘He could bleed to death before we get there.’
    ‘I’ll come with you, mate,’ said Jocko, ‘I’ll do the first aid.’ He was a part-timer with the St John’s Ambulance Brigade, and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about staunching blood.
    ‘I’m coming too,’ said Giovanni, who was known to everyone as ‘Vanno’.
    ‘And me,’ said Piotr, who was known as ‘Peeto’.
    John went to see their supervisor, and came back afew minutes later. ‘The good news is that we can go, and he’s going to organise a whip-round to pay for the vet. He’s calling up some of the blokes so we’ve got enough drivers on the buses. The bad news is that we get the day’s pay docked.’
    The men’s faces fell somewhat, but not one of them changed his mind about coming along. Red Dog was special, and this was a genuine emergency. He had ridden around in the buses with each one of them, they were fond of him and proud of him, and it was worth losing a day’s pay for Red Dog’s sake.
    Jocko ‘borrowed’ one of the First Aid boxes from the workshop, and they ran outside and piled into John’s Holden. Off they went at high speed, raising a cloud of russet dust behind them until they reached the tarmac of the public highway.
    At Seven Mile Creek they spotted Nancy’s car, with Patsy and Nancy kneeling beside it at the roadside, tending to the sad bundle of red fur that lay in the stones. They piled out of the car, and John reached down and ran his hand over Red Dog’s head, ‘Hello, mate,’ he said. Red Dog wagged his tail feebly at the sound of his master’s voice. ‘What’ve they done to you?’ asked John. Red Dog laid his head on the ground as if he were too tired to think of anything any more. He felt a terrible stinging and aching in his leg, and his thoughts had become hazy and disconnected. It was like being in someone else’s dream, a dream where you can’t understand what is going on, because it isn’t yours.
    ‘Jeez, look at that,’ said Peeto. He gestured towards the dog’s haunch. The rusty coat was matted with dark-red blood, and fresh scarlet blood flowed from somewhere beneath the fur. John could hardly speak. He thought that Red Dog was bound to bleed to death, and this made him so sad that his throat felt as though it would never loosen up again. He didn’t want to shed tears in front of