The Case of the Saddle House Robbery by John R. Erickson

Author:John R. Erickson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cowdog, Hank the Cowdog, John R. Erickson, John Erickson, ranching, Texas, dog, adventure, mystery, Hank, Drover, Pete, Sally May
Publisher: Maverick Books, Inc.
Published: 2015-05-06T19:44:32+00:00

Chapter Seven: The Mysterious Visitor

Okay, where were we? Oh yes, everyone had left the ranch, and I had to run to catch up with Jake the Uninvited Bird Dog. When I caught up with him, he was standing in front of the old shed, and he appeared to be muttering to himself.

“This could be it. Yes, I’m sure it is.”

I glanced around and saw nothing that seemed unusual or important. “What are you looking at?”

His head whirled around. “Shhh! Do you want to give away my plans?”

“Plans for what? What are you doing?”

He lifted his eyes to the sky and heaved a sigh. “How can I do my work . . . this is the entrance to the secret passage, you noodle!”

I looked it over. “No, Jake, I think you’re the noodle in this haystack. That happens to be the entrance to the underside of the shed. There’s nothing under there but dirt and a cinderblock foundation.”

He gave me a sneer. “What do you know? Have you ever traveled the world, been to the Seven Seas, stood on the coast of Madagascar?”

“Well, I . . . no.”

“Then please be silent.” He glanced around. “I’m going. You may come or not, it’s of no matter to me.”

“No thanks.”

“So be it. To Madagascar!”

He dropped down on his belly and began wiggling into the narrow space between the shed and the ground. Soon only his stick tail was showing, and then even that vanished. I stuck my nose into the dark space and looked into the gloom.

“Hey, is there really a secret passage in there?”

“Of course there is. Are you coming?”

Well . . . hmm. On the one hand, I wasn’t too fond of dark narrow spaces, but on the other hand . . . gee, what if there really was a secret passage? That was the kind of information a dog should know about his own ranch, and what the heck, a short trip to Magabaster might be kind of . . . well, fun.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t the kind of dog who was driven by a foolish desire to have fun all the time, but a little fun every now and then . . . don’t forget the wise old saying: “All work and no play make Jack Sprat eat no fat.” Is that what I wanted out of life? A life without steak fat or fatty ends of bacon? Heck no.

I mean, these wise old sayings have been passed down through the ages for a reason—to guide us and help us make difficult decisions—and it seemed pretty clear that I needed to spend a couple of hours sunning on the beaches of . . . whatever the name was.

So I plopped down on the ground and was about to embark on a new adventure, when all at once, my ears picked up a sound. Several sounds. Squeaking, rattling, and the hum of a motor. It appeared that we had a vehicle approaching head­quarters.

Slim, no doubt. Perhaps he had forgotten something.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.