The Case of the Blazing Sky. John R. Erickson

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Ididn’t slow down until I had reached the saddle shed. Whew! Boy, that was close. There, I stopped for a breath of air and found Drover hiding in some weeds nearby. He was shaking all over and his eyes had turned into plates.

      “I told you he was a robot monster!”

      “Drover, you said he might be a robot, but you said nothing about a monster.”

      “No, I said he was both and you didn’t listen. You never listen.”

      “Okay, maybe I didn’t listen and maybe you were right this time. I’m sorry.”

      “Are you really sorry or just saying it to be nice?”

      I gave the runt a scorching glare. “Look, pal, we survived. You don’t get a medal for being right once every five years.”

      “Yeah, but he could have eaten us for supper.”

      “He didn’t eat us for supper. We’re alive and I’ve admitted that I underestimated the crisis. What more do you want?”

      “I want to go home!”

      “You are home. This ranch is where you live.”

      He blinked his eyes and glanced around. “I guess you’re right, but I don’t feel any better. What’ll we do now?”

      “I’m not sure. It’s pretty clear that we’ve lost Slim.”

      “Poor old Slim! I really liked the guy. He used to let us sleep inside the house on cold nights.”

      “I know, and he was always willing to share his ketchup and mackerel sandwiches.”

      Drover gave his head a sad shake. “Yeah, they always made me sick, but he tried to be a friend.”

      “Yes, those were the worst sandwiches I ever ate. I never understood why he kept eating canned mackerel.”

      “Cheap.”

      I glanced around. “Did you hear that?”

      “What?”

      “I think it was a bird. It said ‘cheep.’”

      “No, it was—”

      “Quiet. I’d better check this out.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “Shhhh!” I rose to my feet and studied the treetops in the tops of all the nearby trees. “That bird made an unusual sound, almost like the call of a . . . well, a young chicken in distress.” Sud­denly and mysteriously, I felt a rush of water in my mouth. “A tender, juicy young . . . slurp . . . chicken.”

      “Hank, is your mouth watering?”

      “Uh . . . yes, but how did you know that?”

      “Well, I heard you licking your chops.”

      I cut my eyes from side to side and a cunning smile worked its way across my dripping mouth. “You know, Drover, this could turn out to be . . . uh . . . very interesting. A poor youthful chicken has wandered away from the chicken house and lost its way. One of our jobs on this ranch is to . . . well, to supervise, so to speak, the comings and goings of Sally May’s chickens, right?”

      “Yeah, but . . .”

      “And if a chicken has lost its way, the Security Division must swing into action.”

      Drover let out a moan. “Hank, I don’t like that look in your eyes. It makes me think . . .”

      I lumbered over to him. “My eyes have nothing to do with it. Let me go straight to the point. Are you hungry?”

      “Well . . . I guess so.”

      “Are you aware that our dog food bowl was empty this morning?”

      “Yeah, I guess Slim forgot to fill it.”

      “There you are. After all the work we do for this ranch, don’t we deserve a decent meal?”

      He stared at me. “You mean, eat one of—”

      I covered his mouth with a paw. “Hush, don’t say it out loud! Someone might be listening.”

      “Muff muff murff.”