LITMIR.BIZ

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rear, Drover. We have only one rear.”

      “No, we’ve got two and mine’s the one with the stub tail, and it’s the one I sit on all the time.”

      I glared at the runt. “Are you trying to be funny?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Good. You’re not. When I say ‘our rear,’ I mean our collective rear, the area behind us.”

      “Yeah, but what if we’re facing the other direction?”

      “Everything changes, Drover. In the blink of an eye, the front can become the rear and the rear can become the front. We have to be prepared for any contagency.”

      “Oh, okay. So we’re not supposed to blink our eyes?”

      I heaved a deep sigh. Sometimes, when I talk to Drover . . . oh well. We had work to do. “Never mind. We’re going in, and you’d better cover the rear.”

      “Well, all right, but I still don’t understand . . .”

      I didn’t wait around to hear the rest. I crept up to the door, peered inside (it was dark), and then went charging in, barking in all directions. I was a little surprised that Mysterious Esther was no­where in sight. I was even more surprised—shocked, actually—when I saw Slim sprawled out on a layer of hay.

      “Cover the door, Drover. We’ve got a man down.”

      “Yeah, I guess he took a nap.”

      “Are you nuts? He’s unconscious. Mysterious Esther is obviously a spy. She clubbed Slim from behind and now she’s out there stampeding our cattle. Don’t you see how it all fits together?”

      “Not really, and you know what else?”

      “Is this important, Drover? We’ve got a man down and an enemy spy running loose on the ranch. This isn’t a great time to be making small talk.”

      “Yeah, but I just figured it out.”

      I studied him with narrowed eyes. “You figured it out? Drover, you don’t need to figure it out because I figured it out long ago. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

      He gave me a silly grin. “Yeah, but I just figured out what Slim said. He didn’t say he was going to ‘see Esther.’ He said he was going to take a ‘siesta,’ only he called it a ‘see-ester,’ and that’s why he’s asleep. Pretty neat, huh?”

      I held him in my glare for a long, throbbing moment. “Drover, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve said in weeks. In the first place, we’ve already put out a tracer on Mysterious Esther, and we know she’s a spy. In the second place, your phony explanation doesn’t account for the stampede that is occurring at this very moment. I’m sorry, Drover, but your can of worms just doesn’t cut bait.”

      At that very moment, just as I had disposed of Drover’s ridiculous theory, I heard a noise behind me. In one rapid motion, I whirled around and cut loose with a withering barrage of . . . hmm, Slim seemed to be coming out of his coma, the one brought on by a savage blow to his head.

      That was good news, great news. By George, I’d been pretty worried about him. I cancelled all barks and leaped up on the hay beside his potsrate body and began giving him Emergency CPR Licks on the face. That brought him around.

      He pushed me away and said, “Quit.” Then he sat up and yawned. “You birdbrains. I come down to the hay barn to take me a little nap and you show up like ants at a church picnic, barkin’ your fool heads off. You got something against hired hands takin’ a little see-ester?”

      HUH?

      I cut my eyes from side to side. Okay, maybe Drover had . . .

      If he was going to take a nap, why didn’t he just call it a nap? How can a dog run a ranch when people go around speaking in five different languages?

      Siesta baloney.

      Suddenly Slim cocked his ear and listened. “Good honk, dogs, the calves are running!” He grabbed his hat and headed for the corrals. For a moment Drover and I were alone. I beamed him a glare of purest steel. He gave me his usual silly grin.

      “Drover, sometimes I think you’re trying to make a mockery of my position on this ranch.”

      “Yeah, but I figured it out, didn’t I?”

      “Even a blind hog finds a piece of baloney once in a while.”

      “What does that mean?”

      I didn’t have time to explain the obvious. I went streaking down to the corrals, where we found . . . you’d be shocked if I told you we found Mysteri­ous Esther, wouldn’t you? Well, we didn’t, and for the very best of reasons. Obviously, she didn’t exist. She’d come straight out of the trash heap of Drover’s imagination.

      No, we didn’t find Mysterious Esther. We found Slim standing beside the fence, watching 146 head of insane steers and heifers running around the weaning pen. I took up a position right beside him, and together we beamed disgusted looks at the cattle.

      “Stupid calves, what’s got into ’em now? Uh-oh. Do you see what I’m a-seein’? Stray dogs, Hank, four of ’em, and they’re chasing our little darlings. I’ll go for my shotgun. You go whup the tar out of ’em.”

      Yes sir!

      And so the adventure began.

      Chapter Two: I Arrest Four Stray Dogs

      Slim trotted off to the house. I whirled around and was ready to address Drover when he came limping up. “Okay, men, here’s the situation. We’ve got a Code Three out there in the weaning pen. It’s liable to be a combat engagement, so lock and load, and prepare for the worst. Any questions?”

      Drover raised his paw. “Yeah, this old leg’s about to quit me.”

      “That’s not a question, trooper. We’ll handle com­plaints after the battle. Any more questions?”

      Drover raised his paw. “Can I go home?”

      “Negative. You’ll join me in combat against four stray dogs.”

      His eyes popped open. “Four stray dogs! I thought it was a woman spy. Boy, I sure get confused.”

      “You’re right, Drover, but being right for once won’t get you out of combat. And neither will being confused. Let’s hit the beach and give ’em the full load of barking. Good luck, men.”

      And with that, we shot under the fence and went streaking out into the weaning pen. I could see them now, four scruffy-looking mutts who’d drifted out from town and were shopping around for trouble. Well, they’d come to the right place for that.

      As I drew closer and got a better look at the mutts, I realized that I’d seen them before. It was Buster and Muggs and their gang of town dogs. Remember them? I absorbed this information with . . . uh . . . mixed emotions, shall we say. On the one hand, I knew they were double-tough. On the other hand, heh heh, I knew that Slim’s shotgun was even double-tougher.

      A guy doesn’t worry much about the opposi­tion when he’s bucked up by backshot. Backed up by buckshot, I should say, and sometimes it even makes him a little . . . well, cocky, you might say. Confident. Braver than normal. Secure in his feelings of self-esteem.

      I headed straight for them and switched on all flashing lights and sirens. Oh, and I also yelled, “Pull over, you creeps, I want to have a word with you! And be quick about it.”

      When they ignored my warnings, I had no choice but to crash into the one

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