DUCKFOOT
By some mischance, one of the willows bordering the pool grew at afreakish angle. A two-pound sucker, probably coon-mauled orosprey-dropped somewhere upstream, had washed down and anchored beneaththe misshapen tree. Its white belly was startlingly plain in the clearwater.
When Harky came on the scene, the pup was trying to get that sucker.Harky almost called, certain that he had finally found Precious Sue.Then he knew his error. The pup was marked exactly like Sue, and atfirst glance it seemed exactly the size of Sue. But though it was bigfor its age, and was further magnified by the water in which it swam,undoubtedly it was a puppy.
Since wild horses couldn't have torn him away, Harky stayed where he wasand watched.
The pup couldn't possibly have scented the fish, for the water wouldkill scent. Therefore he must have seen it and known what he was lookingat. Now, despite a certain awkwardness that was to be expected in a pup,he seemed as comfortably at home in the water as Old Joe was in MunMundee's chicken house.
He made a little circle, head cocked to one side so that he might peerdownward as he swam. For a moment he held still, paws moving just enoughto keep him from drifting in the gentle current. Then he dived.
Smooth as a fishing loon, the pup went down headfirst and straight tohis objective. Reaching the anchored sucker, he swiped at it with afront paw. The sucker did not move. The pup, who did not seem to knowthat he was where no dog should be and trying what no dog should try,made another attempt. Failing a second time, he tried a third.
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Harky voiced the astonishment that he hadnot dared express while the pup was in hearing:
"Jinglin' all peelhaul! Sue's pup for sure!"
There couldn't be the slightest doubt. A hound pup was one thing. Ahound pup that looked exactly like Sue, down to the last blue tick,might leave room for argument. But there was no disputing the lineage ofa hound pup that even growled exactly like Sue. Harky had heard her doit a hundred times, always when she was frustrated by something orother.
Once more his feeling had served him well. Sue had not drowned in WillowBrook that black night when she was so hot on Old Joe's trail. However,neither had she followed him across. As close as she'd been, she'd havetreed him sure. Even though Old Joe would have taken care to climb atree with one or more escape routes, Sue would have barked as soon asshe got him up. Harky and Mun, who'd lingered near the broken ice forthe better part of an hour, would have heard her bark.
Something had happened, and though Harky did not know what it was, hesuspected that the broken ice provided the proper clue. If it hadbroken under Sue, and evidently it had, perhaps she'd been hurt. Somehowor other she'd made it across Willow Brook and the breakup had kept herthere. Trapped, unable to come home, she'd gone wandering in search of amate. She'd found one.
Which one? A hound obviously, and a big one, but Harky knew every houndthis side of Willow Brook, and neither the blood nor the characteristicsof any were evident in the pup. It must have been a coon hound, for noneexcept coon hounds had reason to work in the water, and the pup combinedSue's aquatic skill with some other hound's genius. A hound that couldnot only dive, but apparently was capable of remaining submerged for aslong as it chose, was a marvel fully as astounding as the two-headedcalf that had been born to Mellie Garson's mule-footed cow.
It was what one might expect from a mule-footed cow, Mun opined, andanyway the calf lived only a few hours. The pup was not only alive, butHarky himself was watching it. This day, he told himself, would long beremembered in the annals of the Creeping Hills.
The pup, finally needing air, glided up through the water as gracefullyas a trout rising to a fly. Not knowing whether he'd spook, Harky heldvery still. But he could not control his imagination, and, after the pupdived, what held him down? Fish were able to do as they pleased because,as everyone knew, they gulped water to make themselves heavy when theywanted to go down and spit it out to eject ballast when they wanted tocome up. Loons, grebes, and some species of ducks had mastered the sametrick. But the only animals that knew it, probably because they spent somuch time in the water that they could see for themselves what the fishdid, were beavers and muskrats.
Harky had a sudden feeling. Far and away the greatest coon hound ever torun the Creeping Hills, Precious Sue would never run again. If she werealive, she'd be with the pup. But Harky's new feeling had to do with thethought that the pup was destined to become even greater than hismother.
The pup growled once more. Harky rubbed his eyes, certain that he washearing Sue. He looked away and back again before he convinced himselfthat he was watching the pup.
Swimming so smoothly that there was scarcely a ripple in his wake, thepup made another circle. Harky's heart pumped furiously as he realizedwhat was happening.
The pup, who probably had tried to retrieve the fish a dozen times, wasnot working blindly. Having learned from past mistakes, he was planningthis new attempt in a brand new way. Rather than go straight down, heturned, swam four feet away, then turned again and dived at a forty-fivedegree angle.
This time he aimed at the willow stalk rather than the anchored fish. Hestruck with his shoulder so hard that the willow's topmost leavesrattled, but the stalk moved aside and the fish floated free.
Floating slowly upward, the fish was within three inches of the surfacewhen it was seized by a swift little current and whisked away. Breakingwater exactly where the sucker should have been, the pup was bewildered.But he remained at a loss for only a split second.
Splashing for the first time, he churned mightily, raised hisforequarters high, looked all around, and sighted the fish. Now it wasabout a dozen feet away. The pup overtook it, grasped it in his mouth,and circled back toward shore.
With one mighty leap, Harky landed in knee-deep water. He hadn't daredmove while the pup was in the shallows near the bank, for there was toomuch chance that it might slip around him, run into the brush, andescape. But not even a pup as talented as this one could swim fifteenfeet and get away.
The water rose to Harky's thighs, then to his belt. Watching him, butnot dropping the sucker, the pup made a downstream circle designed tocarry him around Harky and into the willows. His eyes were calculating,his manner the calm and detached air of one who knows exactly what he'sdoing.
Water lapped Harky's armpits, and he knew that he was going to win butnot by a comfortable margin. With another foot or so of lead, or asecond more, the pup would get away.
When a yard and a half separated them, Harky flung himself forward,enfolded the pup with both arms, and clasped it to his chest. Beingcaught, the pup dropped his fish. Sinuous as a snake and swift as ahummingbird, he brought his head around, scored Harky's arm withneedle-sharp puppy teeth, and blood seeped out of the scratches.
"Ouch!" Harky gritted. "Leetle devil!"
Holding the pup with his right arm, he clamped his left hand around itsneck so the pup could not turn and bite again. The pup whined. WhenHarky petted him gently, his whine changed to a warning growl. Harkypondered the entire situation.
Here was the proper place to teach manners, but the pup was not withoutjustice on his side. He had located the fish and worked hard to get it.Therefore he should have it. Now in quiet water, the fish was bobbingagainst Harky's chest. He let go of the pup's neck, grabbed at the fish,and the pup bit him again before he was able to grasp it.
"Cut it out!" Harky ejaculated. "I'm just trying to help you!"
Now that the fish was in Harky's hand, the pup forgot all about biting.He extended his muzzle, licked his chops, and wriggled. When Harky heldthe fish near enough, the pup bit off a chunk of tail and swallowed itwhole. Three bites later, the fish was eaten.
"You ain't just hungry," Harky commented. "You're starved."
The pup sighed, snuggled against Harky's chest, and then turned to lookhim full in the face. Harky looked back. The pup was Sue all over againexcept for his eyes. Hers were gentle. His could be, but they could alsobe proud and fierce. Harky thought of Mu
n.
"I think you'd as soon be friends," Harky said, "but something tells menobody will ever take a switch to you. Whoever thinks you need a hidinghad best use a club."
Oddly as though he wanted to shake hands, the pup raised a forepaw toHarky's left palm. Harky's heart skipped a beat. He gulped, wondering ifhe felt what he thought he did and not daring immediately to feel again.Then he did and almost threw the pup back into the pool.
"If I hadn't felt it!" he gasped, "I couldn't no ways believe it!"
No lightning flashed in the blue sky and no thunder pealed. Bright daydid not turn to black night. Harky felt the paw again, then steeledhimself to look. He gulped, but because no supernatural forces descendedupon him, he first felt and then looked at the pup's other three paws.
There was no shade of doubt. Each of the pup's toes was joined to thenext by a webbing of skin. Sue had given birth to a duck-footed hound!
Suddenly it occurred to Harky that he was still waist-deep in WillowBrook, and that nothing special was to be gained by staying there.Carrying the pup, who seemed satisfied to be carried now that he was nolonger so hungry, Harky waded back to the bank. His awe mounted. Sincehe was born with a duck's feet, no wonder Sue's pup could swim like aduck. Dripping water, Harky climbed the bank.
"What are we going to do with you, Duckfoot?" he asked.
Duckfoot answered that question by wriggling, rolling sidewise, andjumping to the ground. Harky sighed with relief. If the pup was alliedwith witches--and how else could duck feet on a dog be explained?--nowwas the time for him to disappear in a flash of flame and a cloud ofsmoke and return to the infernal regions from which he had emerged.
He did nothing except sit down, blink solemnly at Harky, and wag histail. Harky had a fleeting thought that almost frightened him all overagain. Duckfoot had certainly been touched by sinister forces that noman ever saw.
Man sometimes heard them when they shrieked on the midnight wind ormoaned among the forest trees, and decidedly they were better leftalone. But suppose, just suppose, that Duckfoot was more hound thanspirit? What if the good, as embodied in the hound, was powerful enoughto overcome the bad, which was surely represented in webbed feet on adog? If Duckfoot gave his allegiance to any man ...
Harky trembled when he considered such possibilities. Old Joe himself,who'd been running the Creeping Hills for all of time, could not runaway from a duck-footed hound!
In sudden near panic Harky swooped, caught Duckfoot, clutched himtightly, and raced up Willow Brook. He needed experienced counsel. Mun,who knew far more than he about such matters, was the man to advise him.
It never occurred to Harky that deserved punishment awaited his return.And it never occurred to Mun, who knew the ways of his son, that Harkywould even think of coming home until he had enjoyed his full day. Thehiding wouldn't be any harder.
Mun's first fleeting thought was that Harky had gone insane. Then henoticed the pup in Harky's arms and came incredulously forward.
"What the blazes?"
"Look!"
Harky put Duckfoot down. The pup gave Mun a sober and very criticalinspection, then came forward to sniff his shoes.
"Sue's pup!" Mun ejaculated.
Harky looked curiously at his father. He'd never thought much about Munexcept that, when it came to running away from trifling farm tasks toengage in worthwhile pursuits, he was a mighty hard man to fool. All heknew at the moment was that, for the first time since that dreadfulnight when Sue disappeared, Mun looked happy.
Harky fidgeted. He'd like it well enough if Mun always looked happy, buthe dared not assume the fearful responsibility of pronouncing judgmenton Duckfoot. Nor was it for him to bring a hound that was only parthound into the household. Not even if the hound part was all PreciousSue. Harky steeled himself, caught up Duckfoot, and extended his paw.
"Look!"
For a moment Mun did not speak. Then he discovered his voice.
"Goshamighty! Whar'd ye git that pup?"
"In the pool by the shale bank he was, trying to get a sucker frombeneath that crookety willow--"
Mun listened attentively, and when Harky finished he cleared his throat.But he did not speak for a full forty-five seconds.
"I got it figgered now," he said seriously. "When Sue run off thatnight, she missed Old Joe, but now I know how come she didn't drown. Aduck pulled her out of the water."
"A duck?" Harky questioned.
"Not jest a barnyard duck," Mun said, "an' not jest a wild duck neither.It was some big ol' duck, mebbe bigger'n Sue herself, what's beensettin' back in the woods for no man knows how many years, jest waitin'to put a spell on Sue."
"What'll we do, Pa?" Harky asked worriedly.
"Watch Duckfoot," Mun declared. "Watch him close an' shoot him theminute we find he's puttin' spells on us. Mebbe he won't. He's anyhowhalf Sue an' mebbe that'll keep the half that ain't down. Leave him go,Harky."
Harky put Duckfoot down. Just at that moment the single forlorn duckthat shared the chicken house with Mun's chickens, chose to stroll past.Duckfoot leaped ecstatically at it, overtook it, bore it down in aflurry of threshing wings, and looked very pleased with himself.
"Sue done that," Mun declared. "She knows what she's fetched on us, an'she's tryin' to make up. But we still got to have a care. Jest as Suewas under a spell in the dark of the moon, Duckfoot is bewitched byducks."
"What about the duck?" Harky asked practically.
"Take it behind the barn an' pick it," Mun directed. "We'll have it forsupper. 'Twas sort of a piddlin' duck anyhows."
The Duck-footed Hound Page 5