Hi, Ardith Hinton!
I read your message from 08.08.2018 15:52


 ak>> When I was a boy I read a story about a lonely house, abandoned in
 ak>> the forest. The people left it many years ago and also left their
 ak>> dog. The dog probably remembered its happy days in the house and
 ak>> every night it returned to the desolated, dilapidated house... to
 ak>> wind the wall-mounted cuckoo clock. Maybe the ticking sound made
 ak>> the deserted dog feel better?

 AH> Maybe. It's not unreasonable to suppose a dog could learn to wind a
 AH> cuckoo clock...

Yes, the former master had probably trained the dog to do it, when they lived
together.

 AH> all that's required is to pull the chains & nudge
 AH> the pendulum if it has stopped moving because it collided with the
 AH> weights.

The pendulam can be stirred by the winding chain.

 AH> Not only would the sound of the clock be familiar in this
 AH> case, but I've also heard that many people use a ticking clock to
 AH> soothe a puppy which has been recently separated from the litter on
 AH> the theory that it imitates the mother's heartbeat....

Taking into account the low echo traffic, I post here an excerpt from that
novel (in is a fairy tale, about two boys who had found the flying carpet, and
they traveled to distant, desolated  areas around their town). I hope the
author and translator will forgive me.

From "The Magic Carpet"
By Vladislav Krapivin (Jan Yevtushenko translator)
-----Beginning of the citation-----

      ...we spotted a forest lake encircled by strip of sandy beach nestling
among the pines.
      We, of course, whooped with joy, skimmed over the sand and rolled off the
 carpet. The sand was warm, dry and mixed with brittle pine needles and little
hedgehog-like cones but we did not mind that at all. The bottom of the lake was
 hard and flat and its dark clear water was lovely and warm.
      We had a dip, ate half of our supplies, dug ourselves into the sand and
dozed for a while. Then we had another dip, ate a little more and swam again.
      "We ought to be leaving..." said Vitalka reluctantly.
      "Mmm," I replied. "Let's have just one more dip."
      At last we pulled our clothes onto our wet bodies and flew higher up so
that the wind and sun should dry us quickly.
      "Look!" shouted Vitalka.
      Standing along in a large clearing not far from the lake was a house with
 nothing but trees all around.
      "Shall we check it out?" asked Vitalka.
      So we cautiously flew down very close to the dark humpbacked roof whose
rotten planks were covered with velvety green moss.
      We could tell at once that nobody had lived there for a long time because
 untrampled long grass was growing all around its sagging porch.
      So far we had come across little forest mysteries, but this abandoned
house presented us with a serious one.
      So how could we fly off without finding out about it?


                               Chapter Ten

      Unlike an ordinary village hut, the house had big windows, ornamental
railings round its porch and carved wooden doors. And as these doors were ajar,
 we carefully stepped inside.
      The entry was empty except for a brown butterfly sitting on a racked dry
tub and as soon as we came in, it flew out through the sunny gap in the door.
We walked into the kitchen and were confronted by the dark gaping oven of an
old-fashioned stove whose upper part was inlaid with green tiles. Some
unpainted wooden stools were scattered about in a corner. Sitting on the broad
table was a little grey creature, which was gone in a flash through the broken
window before we had time to identify it. And all that was left on the table
were the shells of some seeds or other.
      We tiptoed round the two rooms, and the floor-boards sagged gently
underfoot. Here and there the remnants of paint still on them glinted in the
sunlight. The rooms contained a few pieces of furniture, such as a rusty
bedstead, some shoddy chairs, and a book-case with broken glass panels standing
 about half a metre away from the wall as if someone had tried to carry it out
of the house and then given up.
      I was just going to look behind the case when all of a sudden there was a
 loud rumbling sound outside. We both started. The rumbling sound came again,
the windows grew darker and the golden spots on the cobweb in a corner
vanished.
      We rushed out onto the porch. Rolling towards us from behind the trees
came a dark-blue stormcloud, which had just swallowed up the sun. Only straight
 narrow rays were shining out over the shaggy ridge of cloud heading towards us
 fast.
      "The carpet!" I cried.
      We quickly rolled up our carpet and dragged it inside. And we were in the
 nick of time. Huge drops of rain began pelting the tops of the grass, the
porch and the window-panels and then the rain began pouring down. It crashed
against the roof and we felt as though we were inside a drum. Then came a pink
flash and a bang so loud that we clapped our ears shut and huddled against a
wall.
      "Now we're caught," whispered Vitalka.
      "Perhaps it'll stop soon?" I said not very confidently and sank even
lower because there was another, even louder clap of thunder.
      It became chilly and draughty. Stinging splashes of rain were flying
through the broken panes and the damp wind was forcing its way through the
doors which we could not shut because they had sunk on their hinges and become
wedged long ago. And, anyway, with such a storm raging outside it was rather
frightening to tear yourself away from the wall and go over to the doors.
      The storm raged for a long time. In fact, it seemed as if a whole week
had passed and not just one thunderstorm but all the thunderstorms in the world
 had brewed over the old house in order to drench, blind and deafen two little
boys...
      At last the thunder claps grew quieter and the sound of the rain
steadier.
      "It's moving away," said Vitalka with a sigh of relief.
      But he was wrong. The rain was now quiet and monotonous but it refused to
 stop.
      "What a nuisance!" said Vitalka despondently. "What if it goes on like
this for several days?"
      It was fearful to contemplate. It would take us at least a week to get
home on foot and, anyway, we did not even know the way. Poor Mum and poor
Auntie Valya would be imagining the most terrible things! And poor us, of
course! We'd get the worst punishment of our lives. And poor magic carpet - it
was bound to be taken away from us...
      "But perhaps it won't go on for that long. It doesn't sound like the kind
 that drags on and on," said Vitalka more cheerfully. "Why worry about it now?"
      Not wishing to seem dejected, I remarked that we used to only dream of
having adventures and now here we were actually having one.
      "After all, we were lucky to find the house," said Vitalka. "What
would've happened if we'd been caught out in the wood?"
      Yes, indeed! The chilly old house seemed more friendly at once. I stared
gratefully up at the peeling ceiling and listened to the rain pattering above
it.
      "We can sleep here tonight," I suggested. "And still get home in time
tomorrow, and we've got some bread left..."
      It was growing dark outside. Something was groaning and creaking in the
corners. It was rather scary and we were chilled to the bone, but at least we
were together and our flying-carpet was with us.
      We rolled it out along the wall opposite the book-case, lay down on one
half and covered ourselves completely with the other. Then we huddled closely
to one another in its soft warmth, and, although our feet were in a draught, on
 the whole, we were fine. And even the rain echoing through the empty house now
 sounded harmless and soothing.
      It was an interesting house. Who could have lived here? Foresters?
Hunters? Geologists? Or just someone who enjoyed peace and quiet?
      And why and when did they leave? Who knew? Perhaps, a year ago or perhaps
 long before we were even born...
      Vitalka and I whispered about this for a while and then dropped off to
sleep.

      I do not know why I woke up. Vitalka was breathing warmly on my cheek.
The rain had stopped and ragged clouds were speeding over the black trees
outside. Every now and then a bright moon bounced out from behind them like a
little ball and lit up the room.
      There was a strange incomplete silence which was being disturbed by a
loud ticking sound.
      I prodded Vitalka. He mumbled something, smacked his lips and woke up.
      "Listen!" I ordered.
      Tick-tock, tick-tock... It was coming from somewhere behind the
book-case.
      "Raindrops? A cricket? No it's..."
      I became scared. I don't know why but I became really scared. And I think
 Vitalka did, too. But it was even more frightening lying there and not knowing
 whether it was someone's light footsteps or someone's heart beating...
      Vitalka slowly threw back the carpet and got up. And then I did too,
shivering in the damp and chilly night air.
      Holding hands tightly, we tiptoed towards the book-case. The moon bounced
 out again and dutifully shone through the window. And as was to be expected in
 a spooky house the floorboards creaked.
      We glanced behind the book-case and saw another door leading into a third
 room which we had not noticed before.
      And it was from that room that the ticking was coming.
      Shoulders abreast, we squeezed through the door into a small room with
one window, which was dark because the moon was shining on the other side.
Vitalka switched on his torch and a yellow disc of light slipped across the
wall and fell upon a wall clock.
      So that was what was ticking in the silence with its pendulum swinging
regularly to and fro!
      We clutched onto each other. We couldn't have been more scared even if we
 had seen a ghost or a robber.
      Yes, the clock was working!
      The house had been abandoned long ago and was standing empty but the
clock was ticking away in the same peaceful and ordinary way as the one in our
kitchen at home!
      Who lived here? Whose invisible hand had pulled the clock's weight? Who
had weighted it down with a large old-fashioned key? (We did the same at home
with a pair of broken pliers. You often had to with old clocks).
      We probably would not have felt so terrified in the daylight, but this
ticking clock in the abandoned house now seemed very eerie indeed. We quietly
backed away from it, our shoulders still close together and our shoulder-blades
 pressed against the wall by the window. Vitalka went on lighting up the clock
with his torch as if afraid that something dreadful might happen if he let it
slip out of sight.
      "Perhaps someone came here before us today?" I asked in an anxious
whisper. "And got it going?"
      Vitalka's shoulder twitched in annoyance - he obviously disagreed. After
all, there were no footprints anywhere in the house or in the grass by the
porch.
      "Then perhaps..." I began again, not knowing what I was going to say...
      Vitalka nudged me with his elbow.
      Besides the ticking sound there was also a light patter on the
floorboards as if someone was coming towards our room. Quietly but confidently.
      Vitalka switched off his torch and we held our breath and squatted down.
      Although my eyes had still not get used to the semi-darkness, I already
made out the gap of the open door, the window ledges, the white clock-face, the
 large cracks in the dull grey wall and then suddenly the outline of the
newcomer against it.
      It was a wild animal.
      It came into the room tapping across the floor with its claws and stopped
 warily.
      Vitalka flicked on his torch, whether on purpose or from fright I do not
know and the light wavered about the room and then fell on the animal.
      It was a dog. A large ginger dog with long ears! It shook its head and
blinked in the light but did not jump back, snarl or bark and then it came up
silently and poked its wet nose into my knees.
      It was such a pleasant surprise that my fear vanished instantly and I at
once felt sure it was a kind dog and that it was pleased to see us. And no
longer in the least scared, I hugged its neck, tousled its long ears and,
delighted by the happy end to our terrifying adventure, said to it, "What a
fright you gave us, doggie, nice dog you."
      The dog wagged its tail so hard that we felt a breeze about our legs.
      Vitalka asked, "Who are you? Where's your master?"
      But it went on wagging its tail, poking its nose into my arm-pit and
pressing its shaggy side against me.
      Yes, where indeed was its master? He would most likely show up any
moment. What would he be like? What if he wasn't as friendly as his dog?
      A short loud thud made us start, but it was only the clock's weight which
 had jerked down several centimetres and was now swinging to and fro with the
heavy key just above the floor.
      But the dog lifted its head from my arm-pit, pricked its ears and then
did something that took our breath away.
      It went up to the clock, stood on its hind legs with its front ones
propped up against the wall, grabbed the chain between its teeth, and sent the
weight and key whirring upwards. Then it jumped down, waved its tail and
glanced at us.
      "Why, you clever dog!" I said.
      "It hasn't got a master," Vitalka said with relief. "They've all gone
away and left it all on its own. That's who winds up the clock."
      "But why?"
      "Who knows? Perhaps it's used to a clock ticking in the house. It's
waiting for people to come back and reckons the clock's something very
important. Maybe it used to wind it up when there were people about and doesn't
 want to stop going so now..."
      I felt sorry for the dog and wanted to do something nice for it, to help
it in some way.
      "Come here, dog," I called. "Have you been ditched?"
      It came up again and put its head on my knees. Some fur and tiny feathers
 were sticking round its mouth.
      "It's just wolfed something up," said Vitalka.
      I hated to think that such a lovely dog could eat another animal, but
Vitalka went on, "Of course, it has. What else can it do? Since it's been
abandoned, it's got to feed itself, so it goes out hunting."
      Fancy abandoning a dog like this! What sort of people were they?!
      "Fancy abandoning a dog!" I said indignantly. "It's probably been living
here alone for years waiting..."
      "How do we know what happened?" Vitalka argued reasonably, "Perhaps it
was nobody's fault..."
      But I did not want to think it was nobody's fault. How could it be? The
dog had been abandoned and was now living all on its own and endlessly waiting.
 And it wound the clock up so that the house did not feel completely dead. It
was taking care of the house for the people who had forgotten about it. So how
come it was nobody's fault?
      "Look how thin it is," whispered Vitalka, stroking the dog's back.
      We fed it almost all our supplies which it gulped down greedily, glancing
 guiltily at us as if apologising for not using more restraint.
      Then we dragged the carpet into the small room, which now seemed cosier
than the others. The clock was ticking away just like the one at home and the
master of the house was walking about with us, so all our fears vanished.
      We wrapped ourselves up in the carpet and the dog lay down at our feet
and started breathing evenly.
      "Good dog," I said in a loud whisper.
      The dog wagged its tail in reply.
      "It's happy people have come," said Vitalka.
      "Shall we take it with us tomorrow?" I asked.
      "Of course."
      We talked a little more about the dog, the old house, the people who had
once lived here, and made guesses as to why they had left without taking the
dog with them and who it was waiting for. Later on we often made up all sorts
of stories about this, but we never found out the truth.

      I was awoken by the hot sun beating down on the rain-washed window-panes
and ricocheting into the room. Golden dots were blazing on Vitalka's eyelashes.
 He blinked, smiled, threw back the carpet and sat up. I at once felt chilly
and sat up, too, hugging my shoulders.
      According to the clock ticking away, it was half-past five but we had no
idea, of course, if it was keeping time. The dog was still asleep at our feet.
Its ginger coat was matted and dirty brown in parts and its ribs were sticking
through it.
      "It must be awful hungry," Vitalka said pityingly.
      The dog opened its eyes and looked at us. It had a sad, kind and very
intelligent face.
      "Do you want to come with us, dog?" asked Vitalka. "Don't worry, Auntie
Valya won't boot you out."
      The dog got to its feet slowly and wagged its tail.
      "It's saying yes!" exclaimed Vitalka, overjoyed. "Let's go!"
      We carried the carpet outside with the dog at our heels. Still damp, the
high grass entwined our legs with what seemed like cold fingers. We rolled the
carpet out on the porch's dry boards so that it did not get wet, and sat down
on it.
      "Come here, dog," I called.
      It obediently sat down beside us and I put my arms round its neck.
      We flew up very slowly and smoothly so as not to frighten the dog and it
sat very still, looking down, but did not take fright. However, after we had
flown about a hundred yards, it started getting restless, freed its head from
my arm, turned round and glanced anxiously at me and Vitalka in turn.
      "Don't be scared," I said tenderly.
      But the dog wasn't scared: it was asking to go back. It crept to the very
 edge of the carpet, whined and barked softly.
      "It doesn't want to leave," said Vitalka.
      "We can't leave it all on its own!" I said angrily.
      "That's its home. What can we do if it doesn't want to leave it? It'll
come back here even if we take it away."
      I realised this myself. It was such a pity to leave the dog behind but
what else could we do? So we landed near the house, and the dog jumped off the
carpet and looked round as if inviting us to go with it.
      "We can't," said Vitalka. "You can't leave and we can't stay. Do you
understand?
      The dog looked sad: it understood.
      "We'll come and visit you," I promised.

----- The end of the citation -----


Bye, Ardith!
Alexander Koryagin
ENGLISH_TUTOR 2018

--- Paul's Win98SE VirtualBox
 * Origin: Quinn's Post - Maryborough, Queensland, OZ (3:640/384)