Number the Stars by Lois Lowry Page B

about this, Annemarie," he said with a serious look. "But the soldiers are so angry about the escaping Jews—and the fact that they can't find them—that they have just started using trained dogs."
    "They had dogs! The ones who stopped me on the path!"
    Uncle Henrik nodded. "The dogs are trained to sniff about and find where people are hidden. It happened just yesterday on two boats. Those damn dogs, they go right through dead fish to the human scent.
    "We were all very, very worried. We thought it meant the end of the escape to Sweden by boat.
    "It was Peter who took the problem to scientists and doctors. Some very fine minds have worked night and day, trying to find a solution.
    "And they have created a special drug. I don't know what it is. But it was in the handkerchief. It attracts the dogs, but when they sniff at it, it ruins their sense of smell. Imagine that!"
    Annemarie remembered how the dogs had lunged at the handkerchief, smelled it, and then turned away.
    "Now, thanks to Peter, we will each have such a handkerchief, each boat captain. When the soldiers board our boats, we will simply pull the handkerchiefs out of our pockets. The Germans will probably think we all have bad colds! The dogs will sniff about, sniff the handkerchiefs we are holding, and then roam the boat and find nothing. They will smell nothing."
    "Did they bring dogs to your boat this morning?"
    "Yes. Not twenty minutes after you had gone. I was about to pull away from the dock when the soldiers appeared and ordered me to halt. They came aboard, searched, found nothing. By then, of course, I had the handkerchief. If I had not, well—" His voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
    If she had not found the packet where Mr. Rosen had dropped it. If she had not run through the woods. If the soldiers had taken the basket. If she had not reached the boat in time. All of the ifs whirled in Annemarie's head.
    "They are safe in Sweden now?" she asked. "You're sure?"
    Uncle Henrik stood, and patted the cow's head. "I saw them ashore. There were people waiting to take them to shelter. They are quite safe there."
    "But what if the Nazis invade Sweden? Will the Rosens have to run away again?"
    "That won't happen. For reasons of their own, the Nazis want Sweden to remain free. It is very complicated."
    Annemarie's thoughts turned to her friends, hiding under the deck of the
Ingeborg.
"It must have been awful for them, so many hours there," she murmured. "Was it dark in the hiding place?"
    "Dark, and cold, and very cramped. And Mrs. Rosen was seasick, even though we were not on the water very long—it is a short distance, as you know. But they are courageous people. And none of that mattered when they stepped ashore. The air was fresh and cool in Sweden; the wind was blowing. The baby was beginning to wake as I said goodbye to them."
    "I wonder if I will ever see Ellen again," Annemarie said sadly.
    "You will, little one. You saved her life, after all. Someday you will find her again. Someday the war will end," Uncle Henrik said. "All wars do.
    "Now then," he added, stretching, "that was quite a milking lesson, was it not?"
    "Uncle Henrik!" Annemarie shrieked, and then began to laugh. "Look!" She pointed. "The God of Thunder has fallen into the milk pail!"

17. All This Long Time
    The war would end. Uncle Henrik had said that, and it was true. The war ended almost two long years later. Annemarie was twelve.
    Churchbells rang all over Copenhagen, early that May evening. The Danish flag was raised everywhere. People stood in the streets and wept as they sang the national anthem of Denmark.
    Annemarie stood on the balcony of the apartment with her parents and sister, and watched. Up and down the street, and across on the other side, she could see flags and banners in almost every window. She knew that many of those apartments were empty. For nearly two years, now, neighbors had tended the plants and dusted the furniture and