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

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