The Eyes of the Dragon - Stephen King [108]
Animals were skittish. People were nervous. Wise meadhouse keepers would not open their doors. They had observed the falling mercury in their barometric glasses, and long experience had taught them that low air pressure makes men quick to fight.
Delain battened down for the coming storm, and everyone waited.
Ben and Naomi took turns running beside the sledge. They reached the Peyna farm at two o'clock that Sunday after-noon-at about the same time Dennis was stirring awake on his mattress of royal napkins and Peter was beginning his meager lunch.
Naomi looked beautiful indeed-the flush of her exercise had colored her tanned cheeks the pretty dusky red of autumn roses. As the sledge pulled into Peyna's yard, the dogs barking wildly, she turned her laughing face to Ben.
"A record run, by the gods!" she cried. "We've made it three- no, four!-hours earlier than I would have believed when we left! And not one dog has burst its heart! Aiy, Frisky! Aiy! Good dog!"
Frisky, a huge black-and-white Anduan husky with gray-green eyes, was at the head of the tether. She was jumping in the air, straining against the traces. Naomi unhooked her and danced with her in the snow. It was a curious waltz, both graceful and barbaric. Dog and mistress seemed to laugh at each other in a powerful shared affection. Some of the other dogs were lying down on their sides now, panting hard, obviously exhausted, but neither Frisky nor Naomi seemed even slightly winded.
" Aiy, Frisky! Aiy, my love! Good dog! You've led a famous chase!"
"But for what?" Ben asked glumly.
She released Frisky's paws and turned to him, angry but the dejection on his face robbed her of her anger. He was looking toward the house. She followed his gaze and understood. They were here, yes, but where was here? An empty farmhouse, that was all. What in the world had they come so far and so fast for? The house would have been just as empty an hour two hours four hours from now. Peyna and Arlen were in the north, Dennis somewhere in the depths of the castle. Or in a prison cell or a coffin awaiting burial, if he had been caught.
She went to Ben and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Don't feel so bad," she said. "We've done all we could do."
"Have we?" he asked. "I wonder." He paused, and sighed deeply. He had taken off his knitted cap and his golden hair gleamed mellowly in the dull afternoon light. "I'm sorry, Naomi. I don't mean to snap at you. You and your dogs have done wonders. It's just that I feel we're very far from where we could give any real aid. I feel helpless."
She looked at him, sighed, and nodded.
"Well," he said, "let's go in. Maybe there'll be some sign of what we're to do next. We'll at least be out of the blow when it comes."
There were no clues inside. It was just a big, drafty, empty farmhouse that had been quit in a hurry. Ben prowled restlessly from room to room and found nothing at all. After an hour, h collapsed unhappily beside Naomi in the sitting room in the very chair where Anders Peyna had sat when he listened to Dennis's incredible story.
"If only there was a way to track him," Ben said.
He looked up to see her staring at him, her eyes bright and round and full of excitement.
"There might be!" she said. "If the snow holds off-"
"What are you talking about?"
"Frisky!" she cried. "Don't you see? Frisky can track him! She has the keenest nose of any dog I've ever known!"
"The scent would be days old," he said, shaking his head. "Even the greatest tracking dog that ever lived could not "
"Frisky may be the greatest