The Case of the Missing Birddog. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Case of the Missing Birddog
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887409
isbn:
“Um-hmm, and if I were you, Hankie, I’d start worrying about that.”
I laughed in his face and walked a few steps away. “Ha, ha, ha! Me worry? No chance of that, Kitty, for you see . . .” I paced back to him. “Why should I be worried? I mean, I really don’t care what you say, Pete, and there’s no chance that I’ll believe this ridiculous story, but . . . uh . . . why should I be worried? I mean, just for grins, I’d like to hear this.”
“You really don’t know?”
“I didn’t say that. Of course I know, but I want to find out if you know. And frankly, Pete, I doubt that you do.”
His brows rose. “Oh, I do know, Hankie. It would mean that you’re out of phase with the moon.”
“Out of phase with . . . is that bad?”
A low whistle escaped his lips, and he turned his gaze away from me. “I was sure you knew, Hankie, or I never would have brought it up.”
“What are you saying, cat? Out with it.”
“Nothing, Hankie. Don’t give it another thought. I’m sure it won’t happen to you.”
“You bet it won’t, and do you know why? Because there’s nothing to it. It’s a pack of lies, just another of your sneaky tricks. Sorry, Kitty, no sale here, and that’s all the time I can afford to waste on you today. Good-bye. I have a ranch to run.”
As I turned to leave, I heard his parting words. “Good-bye, Hank.”
On hearing those two words, I knew that I was in serious trouble. Did you get the hidden message? Maybe not, because it was pretty subtitled, so let me explain. Subtle. See, Pete never called me Hank. He always called me Hankie, and he always said it in that simpering, whiny voice of his. But this time he’d called me Hank, in a normal voice.
The meaning was clear, and it went through me like a jolt of electric current. See, the cat knew that I was out of phase with the moon—and even more onimous, he understood the terrible consequences of being out of phase with the moon.
You know what I did? I walked away from him at a casual pace and wandered back to my gunnysack bed. I watched him out of the corner of my periphery and saw that he was drifting back up to the yard. Then and only then did I dare to . . .
You may find this hard to believe, but I began . . . gnawing my, uh, left front paw.
I know, I know. A guy should never take advice from a cat or believe anything a cat says, but on this occasion, I just couldn’t afford to take a chance. I mean, this was something entirely new to us. Nobody in the Security Division had heard about these Deadly Moonbeams. We had no idea what kind of catastrophic . . .
There, you see? Another mysterious clue just popped up: CAT-astrophic. Cat. Pete. Do you see the pattern here? No, we couldn’t risk a disaster, so I . . . well, I began chewing my paw, and we’re talking about serious bites. Kack-kack-kack. I was in the midst of this Anti-Moonbeam Procedure when . . .
Drover was there, grinning down at me. “Oh, hi. What you doing?”
“I’m . . . it’s very complicated, Drover, and I’m not sure you’d understand.”
“I’d say you’re chewing your paw, is what I’d say.”
I tore myself away from my business long enough to give him a stern glare. “Sit down, son, I’ve got some news for you.”
“Uh-oh. Good or bad?”
“Both. Sit down.”
“Can we skip the bad news? I hate bad news.”
“Just sit down. We’ll take the bad with the good.” He sat down. “Drover, the bad news is that the Earth is being bombarded with Deadly Moonbeams.” He gave me a vacant stare and said nothing. “Hello? Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah, but I can’t figure out if that’s good or bad.”
“It’s bad. How could Deadly Moonbeams be good?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen one.”
“Because they’re virtually invisible, Drover, and therefore hard to see.”
“Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen one.”
“That’s what I just said. That which is invisible can’t be seen.”
“I’ll be derned. I never would have thought of that. What’s the good news?”
“The good news is that we now know why you’ve been chewing your paw. It has nothing to do with your being a moron.”
“Oh good.”
“There’s a reason for it, a scientific reason.”
“Yeah. I’m bored.”
“No, it’s much more complicated than that. You see . . .” At this point, I launched myself into a full and complete scientific explanation of this mysterious process. Would you care to listen in? I must warn you: it’s pretty complicated. If you think you can handle heavy-duty scientific stuff, keep on reading.
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