“I can manage,” said Lisa. Lucy watched her as she stepped up onto the sloping porch and went into the little cabin, closing the door firmly behind her.

Lucy turned and climbed back into the car. Do people know about this? she wondered as she turned the key and drove slowly down the muddy track. These people might as well be living in the nineteenth century, she thought, noticing that most of the houses had little outhouses behind them. How would Crystal adjust to school? How would she cope with flush toilets, bell schedules, and computers?

Deep in thought, Lucy hadn’t been paying close attention to the road. But it was too late. She’d managed to sink all four tires in the slushy mud. She opened the car door and scouted for something to put under the tires to give her some traction. She saw a yard just a bit up the road that was filled with junk. She picked her way carefully along the muddy road, glad that she’d worn her waterproof boots.

There must be something here I can use, she thought, looking about for a few boards or pieces of plywood; even a flattened cardboard box would do. She glanced at the house that was in the center of this junkyard, but no one seemed to be home. She picked her way around a broken washing machine, past bits and pieces of automobiles and lots and lots of tires, and finally found a pile of old asphalt shingles. She was bent over, picking up a generous handful, when she heard a low growl. Turning around, she saw a large, shaggy brown dog coming toward her at top speed, teeth bared and ears flat.

She dropped the shingles, scrambled up a pile of building debris, and, reaching for the branch of a big old pine tree, pulled herself to safety with just seconds to spare. Panting from fright and exertion, she wrapped her arms around the trunk of the tree and rested her forehead against it. She was perhaps seven or eight feet from the ground. The dog had climbed up the pile of debris and was standing on his hind legs, barking frantically at her and snapping his teeth at her feet. She was safe enough since he couldn’t climb the tree, but she sure couldn’t go anywhere.

After a while the dog stopped barking and jumping. Instead, he stood on all fours, eyeing her patiently, prepared to wait. I’ve played this game before, he seemed to be saying to her. Every now and then he’d bark sharply, making her jump, and then he’d resume his patient wait. Lucy shouted for help, and the dog again began barking frantically and jumping up, nipping at her feet. Lucy looked hopefully at the house, praying that someone was home who could help her. Miraculously, the door opened and a large, fat man in overalls scrambled out holding a shotgun.