LITMIR.BIZ

      “Beats me, but I wonder what it’s doing here?”

      “Good question, Drover, and we’re fixing to find some answers. Come on!”

      We went streaking toward the unidentified pickup and barked it all the way down to the corrals. Just as I was about to sniff out the tires and mark them for future reference, another pickup came rolling in. And another!

      I called to Drover and we went rushing out to meet the trespassers, gave each one of them as much of a barking as we could manage under the circumstances. Something very strange was going on here, and I needed to find out what it was.

      I picked up some clues right away. All three of the pickups were pulling stock trailers. All three stock trailers had four wheels. Two were green and one was brown—no pattern there, but I noticed it anyway. And finally, inside each of the trailers was a horse—not the same horse, you see, but three different horses—and all three horses were saddled.

      The drivers got out and two of them stretched their arms. I recognized two out of the three suspects. One was named Baxter, the other was Billy. Both lived on ranches down the creek, which meant they were neighbors. I didn’t recognize the third man.

      Oh, and they were all wearing spurs and chaps. That was kind of revealing too. When the neighbors come prowling around in shurs and spaps, spurs and chaps, that is, it usually indicates that some type of work is planned for the day.

      I called my assistant over for a conference. “Drover, circulate around, sniff things out, keep your ears open. Something’s going on around here.”

      “I thought so.”

      I glared at the runt. “Maybe you thought so, but I thought so first. Don’t forget who’s in charge around here.”

      “Oh, okay.”

      “Now get going. I’ll expect a full report.”

      “Okay, Hankie, here I go!” And off he went.

      I had my doubts that he would turn up any good leads, but when you’re short-handed, you have to use whatever warm bodies happen to be available. Drover was what you would call your Basic Warm Body.

      I slipped around the pickups and trailers and checked things out, marked a few tires, kept my eyes and ears open, continued gathering data and amassing clues. When High Loper came down from the house, wearing his summer leggins and big-rowel spurs, I had enough evidence to come up with a Working Hypothenus . . .

      Hypotenuse. Hypodermicus. Hyrolysis. What is the dadgummed word? Hippopotamus.

      . . . I had turned up enough evidence to form a Working Hippopotamus: Without consulting me, the cowboys had decided to roundup and brand one of the pastures. Furthermore, they had invited strangers to come onto the ranch to help, with the work—again, without consulting me.