The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887317
isbn:
We made several laps around the corral. The good news was that I managed to stay a step ahead of her deadly horns and thus saved the ranch the price of a funeral. The bad news was that . . . well, old Slim was attached to her by a chain and as we lapped the corral, he sure moved a lot of dirt. And fresh manure. He looked like a propeller tied to the cow’s tail, is how he looked.
It was on our third lap around the pen when he got wrapped around the snubbing post. That tightened the chain and, bingo, a cute little black baldface calf made his entrance into the world. The heifer must have noticed that something was different. She stopped, sniffed the air, bawled, and looked back towards her calf.
And Slim. He undid the chain, got up on his hands and knees, and let out a groan. Maybe the heifer thought she’d given birth to a cowboy instead of a calf. Anyways she went over and gave him a sniffing. He looked pretty strange, I must admit. He’d bulldozed so much dirt with his face that it had turned brown. Oh, and the back of his white shirt had a big green splotch on it, the exact color of recycled grass.
That snubbing post had knocked the wind out of him and he wasn’t in the mood to be sniffed, I suppose. He waved a hat in front of her face and said, “Get out of here, you old bat.” Another bad idea. The heifer decided that whoever that guy was on the ground, he had no business lurking around her new calf. She dropped her head, shook her horns, bellered, and started pawing up dirt.
Slim got to his feet and made a run for it. The heifer followed and was taking aim at his back pockets when I decided to spring into action. I left my spot on the other side of the corral fence and went charging into battle. I think I could have saved him if he hadn’t . . . well, gotten his feet tangled up on . . . well, on ME, you might say.
I don’t know how it happened. Apparently Slim wasn’t paying attention to his business. I think he could have missed me if he’d . . . okay, maybe I ran between his legs, but don’t forget that it was very dark out there and I was just trying to help. And don’t forget that I was concentrating on an insane heifer with horns.
“Hank, get out of the way!”
Anyways, Slim did another dive into the dirt and all at once I found myself positioned between him and the heifer. She stopped and we glared into each other’s eyes. Her head was shaking. Her eyes were on fire and bulging out of her head. Smoke and steam and burning lava hissed out of her nostrils.
I was cornered, trapped, exposed, and all at once I realized that heroism had been thrust upon me. I decided to show her some fangs and address her in a firm term of voice: “Listen, you old hag, if you don’t . . .”
Maybe we’d better not go on. The next part is so scary, I’m not sure I should reveal it. No kidding. You know how I am about the kids. I don’t mind giving ’em a little thrill now and then, but the real hardcore, heavy-duty scary stuff . . .
Better skip it.
Sorry.
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