A Double Dose of Driving Dogs
Horace slumped to the ground and lay there despondently.
“Mr Hay was right,” he moaned. “I’m just a hopeless hound.”
“Never!” said Max stoutly.
“If I only had my helmet and my overalls,” sighed Horace, “people might think I
was a racing driver.”
“Wait – that’s a brilliant idea!” barked Max. “A disguise: that’s what you need.
Just wait there.”
He bounded into the farmhouse and returned a moment later with something big
and yellow flapping in his jaws.
“It’s Farmer Lott’s raincoat,” explained Max. “Try it on!”
He helped Horace pull on the coat, which was stiff and smelt of rubber. Although
it covered his body well enough, the hood was too small to go over his nose and ears.
“I need something to disguise my head,” said Horace.
“Hang on!” Max darted back into the house. When he came out again, he was
trailing a long, green, floaty cloth behind him.
“O ne of Mrs Lott’s headscarves,” he panted.
“A what? But I don’t–” Horace’s protest was cut off in mid-sentence. Max had
just wrapped the scarf around his jaws. Then he pulled it over Horace’s ears and tied
it with a bow.
“There. That covers you up nicely! All I can see are your eyes. And these will
disguise your paws,” he added, giving Horace a pair of bright pink rubber gloves.
Horace put them on. They were too big. Five floppy rubber fingers dangled from
“How do I look?” he mumbled through the scarf.
“Fabulous!” said Max. “Very glamorous. Just like Mrs Lott when she’s all dressed
up. We need to get a move on now!” He jumped into the car and sat eagerly in the
driver’s seat. “I’m ready to be towed!” he called.
Horace, clumsy in his stiff yellow raincoat, climbed back on the tractor. He started