“Okay, let’s talk about cats. You believe in cats, don’t you?” No response. “Of course you do. As it happens, I’ve got one to sell, and I’ll make you a very special deal.”
They gave me blank stares. “What kind of berry spetchell deal?”
I rose to my feet, leaned toward them, and whispered, “Free, no sales tax, no commission. All you have to do is hike over to the ranch and pick up the cat, range delivery.”
Snort shook his head. “Brothers not give a hoot for hike around all night.”
“Okay, tell you what. I’ll fetch him myself. That’ll sweeten the pot even more.”
“Hunk fetch cat in pot?”
“No, no, I’ll fetch him from the iris patch. That’s where he stays.”
“Hunk catch cat in Irish pot?”
“Not Irish pot. Iris patch. I’ll fetch the catch who stays in the Irish potch.”
The brothers went into a whispering session, then Snort turned his scowling eyes back on me. “Brothers not understand about Irish fat cat.”
“Okay, listen carefully. He’s fat but not Irish. He stays in the iris patch and I can fetch him.”
“What about Irish pot?”
“There never was an Irish pot, but if you want a cat in an Irish pot, we’ll throw that into the deal. But you have to let me, uh, go back to the ranch to fetch him. What do you say?”
They stared at me for a whole minute without speaking or showing any expression. Then Snort raised his paw and clubbed me over the head. BAM! “Hunk not go nowhere and brothers not give a hoot for potted Irish cat, so Hunk shut trap.”
“Fine. I was just trying to help.” Well, that idea had flopped. I cut my eyes from side to side. “Okay, let’s try a different approach. Bones. How do you feel about bones?”
Their tongues shot out of their mouths and their eyes lit up. “Ha! Brothers got big yum yum for bones!”
“Just what I figured. See, I noticed that you were looking at my bone in the trench.”
“Trenchant bone smell berry yum yum.”
“Right, and do you know why? It’s ancient.”
Snort shook his head. “Uh-uh. Bone trenchant, not ancient.”
I took a moment to collect my thoughts. Communicating with cannibals can be difficult. “Okay, the bone is trenchant but also ancient. Do you know what that means?” Blank stares. “Ancient means old, very old.”
“Trenchant bone got mold?”
“Not mold. It’s old, even older than your grandma.”
“Coyote grandma not got mold.”
“I didn’t say she did.”
“Hunk not tell lies about coyote grandma got mold.” He raised his fist.
“Wait! Let’s don’t do that again. My head still hurts from the last one.”
He lowered his fist. “Hunk sorry for tell lies about moldy grandma?”
“Yes, yes, I’m very sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Your grandma is probably the sweetest cannibal in all of Texas, so why don’t you give her a bone for Christmas?”
“Too hot for Christmas.”
“Okay, for her birthday . . . anniversary . . . Valentine’s Day, whatever. The point is, you can give her the bone. What a gift idea, huh?”
They went into a whisper session, then Snort said, “Rip and Snort like bone more than Grandma. Not give to Grandma.”
“Exactly my point. Hey, you’d be crazy to give away a bone like this and, well, you guys aren’t crazy, right?”
They traded glances and laughed. “Guys pretty crazy.”
“That’s what I mean. You guys are crazy as bedbugs and you deserve the bone.”
Snort showed me his fangs. “Guys not crazy as bunk beds.”
“Okay, sorry. Forget bug banks and let’s talk deal. I’m ready to give you the bone—no charge, no tax, no nothing—but I have to clear it with the, uh, sales manager.” They stared at me. “It’s not actually my bone, see, and the guys upstairs . . . well, they always want the last word. Ha ha. You know how they are. It’s just a formality, honest.”
I held my breath and waited for their reply. I mean, this was about the looniest conversation I’d ever had with anyone, but it seemed to be moving in the right direction.
Snort rolled his eyes upward. “Snort not see upstairs.”
“Right. Upstairs is just an expression, a finger of speech. Actually, the sales manager stays in that tent over there, so you give the okay and I’ll just, you know, pop over to the tent and that’ll be it. Ha ha.”
Two pairs of empty yellow eyes stared at me. Then Snort growled, “Ha ha brothers not fall for stupid trick again.”
“Yes, but let me hasten to point out . . .”
“Snort got better deal of all, break Hunk’s face and take trenchant bone, too.”
“Now Snort, we needn’t . . .”
He leaned toward me and licked his toothy mouth. “Eat bone first, then eat Hunk, ho ho.”
They were on their feet now, creeping toward me with wild hungry looks in their eyes. My mind was racing. I had to come up with something, and real fast.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Cannibals Eat Me
All at once I remembered something very important. Coyotes always avoid people, yet here they were in the middle of camp. Why? Because they were burning up with thirst and had come looking for water!
“Wait, stop! There’s one last thing we need to discuss.” I took a gulp of air and tried to keep my knees from knocking together. “If you guys didn’t find the root beer deposits, that means you haven’t had a drink all day, right? What about your boom boom thirsty?”
They didn’t answer but I could see it in their eyes. I was right! I had hit the nail right on the donkey.
I plunged on. “Guys, I’ll give you my bone, but I must tell you that it’s old and crumbly. If you tried to eat it with a dry mouth, you’d be disappointed, no kidding. I mean, let’s go back to our example of the dry cornbread.”
“Hunk not talk about corny crumblebread.”
“Snort, I’m telling you this for your own good.” I turned to his brother who . . . have we ever mentioned that Rip’s eyes always seemed to be about half-crossed? They were. “Rip, this will be the best bone of your life. Do you want to eat it with a dry mouth?”
Rip licked his dry lips and shook his head. “Uh-uh.”
“Well, there you are. It happens that we have a pan of fresh water here in camp, but it’s not mine to give away. I’d have to talk to my boss . . . I mean, if you want a drink.”
Snort lumbered up into my face. “Snort got plenty boss.” He showed me two rows of bear-trap teeth.
“Yikes, good point.”
“Hunk find water pretty quick, and not talk hooey about root beer.”
I tried to hide my excitement. Hey, this plan seemed to be working! With a coyote escort on each side (they weren’t taking any chances), I made my way over to the spot where Slim had left his Handy-Dandy Cowboy Wasp Trap.
“Okay, fellas, there it is. Help yourself, but I have one request. Please don’t drink it all. I’m kind of thirsty myself.”
The brothers roared with laughter, as if to say . . . well, as if to say that where I was going, I wouldn’t need a drink. They shoved me out of the way and started lapping. I held my breath and watched.
Uh-oh. After about ten laps, Snort raised his head and spit something out of his mouth.
“Uh. Water got full of whops.”
“Wasps? Oh, well, maybe you’d better not drink it.”
Snort gave me a sour look and started beating his chest. “Snort not even little bit scared of whops, eat whops like candy, oh boy!”
“Well, whatever you think.”
They went back to lapping. Then, uh-oh, Snort raised his head again and curled his lip. “Uh. Water got funny taste.”
Oops, he’d tasted
the soap. I had to act fast. “Oh, I forgot to mention that it’s a little bit muddy. You probably won’t like it, so . . .”
“Hunk shut trap. Rip and Snort not scared of mud. Drink muddy water like root beer, ho ho.”
They stuck their heads back into the pan and started lapping again. I watched and waited. How long would it take the soap to do its work? I had a feeling that we would see some pretty dramatic results, and it wouldn’t take long.
I was right. The brothers drank so much and so fast, their bellies were dragging on the ground. They licked the bottom of the pan and ate all the dead wasps. Then they raised their heads and unleashed loud grunts of cannibal satisfaction. “Now brothers eat trenchant bone, oh boy!”
They pushed me into the trench where they could keep an eye on me, licked their respective chops, and gazed down at the Most Ancient of Bones. But then . . .
The grin on Snort’s face began to fade. His eyes glazed over. He laid a paw upon his stomach. “Uh. Muddy water not feel so good in tummybelly. Muddy water feel kind of . . .” His eyes popped wide open and he hiccuped.
HICK!
And suddenly the air was filled with thirty-seven of the prettiest soap bubbles you ever saw. On the other side of the trench, Rip did the same.
HICK!!
All at once the fearsome cannibal brothers didn’t look so fearsome anymore. Their legs had turned to rubber and they were staggering around in circles, hicking bubbles. The time had come for me to move into Phase Two.
I reached for the microphone of my mind and switched over to the Alert and Alarm Frequency. Barking in my very loudest tone of vone, I sent out the alarm:
“Attention all campers! We have coyotes inside the wire! Repeat, Charlie is inside the wire! Doug McGrubber, please report to the front! We have cannibals trying to eat your bone!”
Maybe Doug McGrubber was a light sleeper or maybe he actually did read my mind. Either way, he came flying out of his tent, carrying his pants in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He yelled, “Dog, if you mess up my bone . . .” When he saw the coyotes, he slid to a stop. The brothers stared at him with soggy eyes as foam dripped off their lips. “Jumping jiminy! Coyotes, and they’ve got rabies! Where’s my gun?”
He made a dash for his pickup. By then I could hear the rumble of voices as the other men stuck their heads out of their tents. Rip and Snort were still stumbling in circles, staring in wonder at all the bubbles in the air.
I dived back into the trench. “Guys, I don’t mean to intrude, but you need to get out of here real fast. That man went for his shotgun.” No response. They didn’t even look at me. “Snort, the man went for his boom-boom! Do you hear me? BOOM-BOOM!”
Snort’s eyes came into focus. “Uh. Boom-boom not so healthy for coyote.”
“Right, so get out of here, run for your lives! And don’t stop to smell the bubbles!”
They crawled out of the trench and staggered sideways toward a line of brush about fifty yards away. It was one of the funniest sights I’d ever seen, these two ferocious cannibals running away like a couple of dizzy spiders, but there was no time to laugh and enjoy it.
By then, the other men had pulled on their jeans and had come running out of their tents, so I, uh, figured it was time to put on a little show. I took a firm three-legged grip on the ground and began firing off round after round of Heavy Duty Barks.
“And the next time you bums try to tamper with the work of science, you won’t get off so lucky! The very idea, trying to eat a priceless artifact! You guys make me sick! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, and if you’re not, come back here and I’ll give you a few lessons in charm and manners. I dare you! I double-dog dare you!”
It was a pretty impressive show of force and righteous anger, and as you might expect, the cowards wanted no more of me. No sir. They hit the brush and disappeared.
Mr. Wilkens and Little Alfred were the first to reach me. Wilkie raked the hair out of his eyes and gazed off in the distance. “What on Earth is going on around here?” He looked into the trench and saw the bone, then turned a stern pair of eyes on me. “Hank, were you . . . ?”
Little Alfred placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a look of deepest concern. “Hankie, you weren’t trying to eat the bone . . . were you?”
Me? Eat the bone? Why, I hardly knew what to say.
At that moment, Doug McGrubber came running up, stuffing shells into his double barrel shotgun. He snapped it shut and gazed off into the distance. “Did they get away?”
Wilkie seemed confused. “Who? What was going on out here?”
I held my breath and went to Slow Wags on the tail section. This was a crucial moment. My whole career hung in the balance.
McGrubber narrowed his eyes and chewed his lip. “When I got here, I saw two coyotes standing in my unit. And Hank here was barking.” McGrubber’s beady little eyes drifted down to me and all at once I felt very uncomfortable. He said, “I’m having trouble believing this, but maybe the dog was trying to protect my bone.”
Whew! My whole body went limp.
Alfred threw his arms around my neck and gave me a hug. “Hankie, I knew you were a good dog!”
Well, sure. Was there ever any doubt? The Head of Camp Security does not, repeat, does not ever eat or tamper with evidence, samples, specimens, or anything else that would contribute to the March of Science. I mean, that would be totally out of character, right?
At that moment, Slim Chance came hobbling into the crowd, bent over and walking like a crab. “What’s all the noise?”
Mr. Wilkens explained that I had, well, made a hero of myself and saved The Most Ancient of Bones. Slim uttered a grunt (don’t forget, he speaks Gruntlish in the mornings) and went back to his bed, again limping like an old man.
Wilkie noticed. “What’s wrong with you?”
Slim muttered, “I feel like I was dropped out of an airplane.”
“Next time you go camping, bring an air mattress, like the rest of us.”
Slim kept walking. “It ain’t manly.”
Wilkie laughed and shook his head. “He’s really stubborn, isn’t he?”
Yes, exactly! I’d been saying that for years, and nobody had ever listened to me.
Well, it was almost daylight, so Wilkie built a fire and boiled a big pot of coffee, while some of the other men started cooking breakfast. Just as Wilkie was passing out tin cups of steaming coffee to the crew, we heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. We all turned and saw . . .
That was odd. It appeared to be a pickup . . . Loper’s pickup, in fact. He drove up to the site and got out.
Wilkens handed him a cup and Alfred walked over to him. “Hi, Dad. What are you doing here?”
Loper took a sip of coffee and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m ashamed of myself for not coming over here with you yesterday.”
The boy seemed surprised. “Well, you had to haul water, I guess.”
“Slim could have hauled the water. The cows aren’t fussy.”
“Yeah, but you don’t like arkimology. You said so.”
Loper looked into Alfred’s face and smiled. “But I like you, son, and I’m your dad. A daddy ought to be with his boy before he’s grown and gone. I was just thinking of myself and I’m sorry.” Loper turned to Mr. Wilkens. “As far as I know, I’ve got no talent for this stuff, but I’m willing to learn, if you’ll put up with me.”
Alfred hugged his dad. “I’m glad you came. It’ll be fun.”
Slim Chance came limping up just then. “Yeah, you’ll love it, Loper . . . but tomorrow you won’t be able to walk. This stuff ain’t for sissies.”
That drew a big laugh, then the men formed a line and loaded their plates with scrambled eggs and bacon. I was astonished when Stork Legs Witt, the same flint-heart who had refused to share his ham sandwich the ni
ght before, gave me a plate of my very own. Wow! It was one of the proudest moments of my career.
And that’s about all the story. No, wait. There’s more, and it’s pretty interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Amazing Conclusion
Here’s the rest of the story. After breakfast, the men stacked their dishes in a washtub and went to their units to begin the day’s work. As Wilkie was leaving the breakfast area, Stork Legs Witt caught him by the arm.
“Hey, boss, you know that rock in Slim’s unit? I did some research last night and it’s not a rock.” He flipped open a big book and pointed to a photograph. “Look at this.”
Wilkie glanced at the picture, then looked closer and smacked his hand against his forehead. “A mammoth tooth? That’s impossible! How can you have a twelve-thousand-year-old mammoth tooth in a house that dates to 1300 a.d.?”
Witt pointed to Little Alfred, who was standing nearby. “My guess is that one day, seven hundred years ago, a little feller like him was out on a hike and dug it out of the creek bank. He did what little boys have always done—brought it home and gave it to his mom, and she kept it in a special place.”
Wilkie chuckled to himself. “I guess that makes sense, and it kind of brings the past to life, doesn’t it?” He turned to Alfred. “Well, kiddo, it’s not exactly a dinosaur, but it’s close enough. You got your wish, and it’s going to make a great addition to my report.”
Pretty neat, huh? Alfred was thrilled and that’s about the end of the . . . wait. One last thing.
When the crew went back to work, I found myself . . . well, a bit restless. Bored, shall we say. After scratching a couple of fleas, I happened to glance around and saw . . .
Guess who was sitting in the back of her pickup, gazing at me with adoring brown eyes. Heh heh. After checking to be sure her ugly brother wasn’t lurking around, I drifted over to the pickup and gave her a wolfish smile.
“What do you think now, sweet thang?”
“Well, you came out of that smelling like a rose.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
The Case of the Most Ancient Bone Page 13
