The Case of the Saddle House Robbery. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Case of the Saddle House Robbery
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887355
isbn:
I cut my eyes from side to side. Data Control was flashing a warning light. Okay, it was all coming clear now. Remember all that stuff about “seven-come-eleven” and “shooting dice”? That was nothing but a garbage report from Data Control. What we had confronting us now had nothing to do with shooting dice or high-energy echoes.
What we had confronting us now was a whole lot worse—Rip and Snort, the coyote brothers. Have we discussed Rip and Snort? There had been times in my career when I had shared some laughs with them, but there had been other times when I’d gotten the feeling that they wanted to . . . well, to eat me.
And now it appeared that they had broken my codes and intermessed my messages, followed my barking patterns, and traced them back to ME.
Me, standing alone on Funeral Hill. Me, away from the safety of the house.
I swallowed a big lump in my throat, then addressed them in their own coyalect diote . . . coyote dialect, shall we say, a primitive grunting version of Universal Doglish. “Hey, Rip and Snort, how’s it going, fellas? Nice morning for a walk, huh?”
“Ha! Big phooey on walk. Nice morning for fight. Hunk ready for big noisy fight?”
“I . . . uh . . . no, not really.” I began backing away. “See, I was just . . . did you guys hear about the big dice game? Yeah, big dice game. You know, ‘seven-come-eleven’ and all that stuff. I know for a fact that you guys love to gamble.”
“Us guys love to fight, beat up dummy ranch dog, kick and bite and scratch, oh boy.” They were getting closer. I could smell them now. Boy, did they stink. “How come Hunk stand on hill, in plainest sight, and bark louder and loudest?”
“Well, I . . . if you must know, Snort, I was trying to bark up the sun a little earlier than usual.” I continued backing away, but this time they noticed. I heard them growling.
“Hunk not try sneaking back to house and boom-boom.”
“Me? Sneak back to the house? Ha, ha. Not me, guys, no sir. Really. No, I have to stay out here until I get that old sun barked up.”
By this time they were right in front of me and I could see the outline of their sharp noses and sharp ears. I must admit that the sight of them, and the smell too, sent shivers of dread down my spine. I couldn’t believe I had gotten myself into this mess. Why hadn’t I . . . oh well, it was too late to spill the milk.
Snort looked me over and then spoke. “Hunk barking up sun?”
“Sure. That’s one of my jobs on this outfit. I bark up the sun every morning.”
That drew a big laugh from the cannibals. “Ha! Hunk got big stupid in head, not have enough bark for punch hole in wet paper sack.”
“Oh yeah? Tell that to the sun, Snort, because it comes up every morning when I bark at it . . . well, except this morning, and for some reason it didn’t work.”
“Didn’t work ’cause Hunk have weenie bark.”
“Weenie bark! Are you kidding me? Oh, I get it. You’re thinking of Drover, and yes, you might describe his bark as a weenie bark. But see, I’m not Drover.” They stared at me with empty eyes. “I’m not, honest. I’m not Drover and I’ve never been Drover. Therefore . . .”
“Therefore Hunk talk too much.” He clubbed me over the head with his paw. BONK! “Hunk have weenie bark and not bark up sun.”
“Okay, fine. But if I don’t bark up the sun, why do you think it comes up every morning, huh? You can’t answer that, can you?”
They exchanged wicked glances and grinned. Then Snort puffed himself up to his full height and tapped himself on the chest. “Rip and Snort howl up sun, not dummy ranch dog with weenie bark.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see you do it.”
The cannibals exchanged grins and nodded their heads. “Ha! Hunk fixing to see. Better watch real close.”
The brothers turned and faced the east. Well, they had that part right, facing east instead of north or west. They sat down on their haunches, puffed themselves up with big gulps of air, and started launching their famous “Coyote Howl-Up-the-Sun Song” toward the eastern horizon.
Have we discussed that song? Maybe not. It was a special coyote song they used for this one big event. It wasn’t quite as bad as most of the trash they sang, but it was bad enough. Here’s how it went, word for word and note for note.
The Coyote Howl-Up-the-Sun Song
Sun get up
Off your duff
We cannibals order the start of day.
Shake a leg,
Out of bed.
Or else we will have to get mad.
That’s bad.
Well, they finished their noise, and you know what? It was still as dark as the inside of a cow. The sun wasn’t coming up.
This pleased me, of course, but I didn’t dare say a word. Snort mumbled something about “dummy sun,” then he and Rip reloaded their lungs with air, and went back to work. This time, they skipped the singing and went to straight howling. They howled so hard and loud, they both collapsed on the ground.
Snort called me over. “Maybe Hunk better help howl up stupid sun.”
“Now you’re talking. Okay, guys, the gloves come off now. Let’s give it the full load this time.”
And so it was that . . .
BONK!
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