And this is Chapter Twelve and we’re running out of time and space to come up with a happy ending.
Pretty sad, huh? You bet it was but don’t give up yet.
With nothing better to do, we hung onto our respective branches, and I mean hung on for dear life. We got zero sleep and I had to listen to Drover whimper, cry, squeak, and moan for the rest of the night.
Then, at last, I saw the faint glow of morning appear on the eastern horizon. Knowing that the sun could not possibly rise without a good stern barking from the Head of Ranch Security, I was forced to perform this crucial task from the top of the tree.
I mean, if we didn’t get that sun barked up, fellers, we might have been stranded in total darkness for days or weeks. So I did my duty and barked it up, and whilst I was in the midst of my Bark Up the Sun Procedure, what do you suppose I heard?
A door slam. Then a voice . . . a voice that sounded slightly familiar . . . a man’s voice which said, if I can remember the exact quotation, which said, “Shut up, you idiot dog!”
HUH?
My goodness, that voice sounded quite a bit like Slim’s, and then I glanced down and noticed a house down there on the ground, and a tall skinny man, wearing nothing but underpants and boots, standing out on the porch.
Holy smokes, that was Slim the Cowboy! The tornado had carried us two miles down the creek and deposited us in that big cottonwood right in front of Slim’s house—what a terrific struck of loke—and all at once I was filled with joy and began barking with all my heart and soul.
Stroke of luck.
And Drover added a few squeaks. His squeaking and my massive barking made just enough noise to draw Slim’s soggy red eyes away from ground level and up to the top of the tree.
And at last, yippee, he saw us there! His eyes popped open and his jaw dropped several inches.
And he said—this is an exact quote—he said, “Good honk, I’ve got huge barkin’ squirrels in my tree, where’s my gun!”
No, no! We weren’t squirrels! It was us, Hank and Drover, his loyal dogs.
Okay, it appeared that he was joking. You know Slim and his warped cowboy sense of humor. It gave me a little scare.
Well, he got a big laugh out of our miserable condition. Yes, while we were up there, clinging for dear life to branches that were rolling like ocean waves in the wind, he got big chuckles.
But suddenly the laughter stopped. He scratched his head and squinted up at us and said, “Hmmm. I wonder how a guy goes about rescuin’ two ranch mutts from the top of a cottonwood, ’cause I ain’t fixing to climb up there myself. Hmmm.”
How did he do it? Well, he called Loper on the phone and Loper came. He had spent most of the night in the cellar, so you can imagine how glad he was to see us dogs up in Slim’s tree.
Not glad. Much grumbling and muttering.
But by then he and Slim had figured out how we got there and were ready to call it a good deal. I mean, the tornado hadn’t killed anyone or destroyed any ranch property, so they decided to count their blessings.
They got us down, but it was no instant rescue. It took ’em several hours and it ended up involving several of the neighbors, chainsaws, ropes, ladders, and a windmill repair truck with a telescoping crane.
Loper had to pay two hours of rig time on Jay Cox’s windmill truck, but I’m sure he considered it a huge bargain. He got his dogs back, that was the important thing.
Well, we had dodged another bullet and had . . . oh, I almost forgot. Sally May never did learn the Awful Truth, that her little stinkpot son had let us into the house that night. But I heard through the grapevine, so to speak, that she found fleas in Alfred’s bed.
They weren’t mine.
Anyways, it was a great moment in history when Drover and I finally made it back to headquarters and to our gunnysack beds, which is where this had all started, with me and Drover trying to catch a few winks of sleep between assignments.
And that was exactly what I planned to do now. After saving the ranch from the Swirling Killer Tornado, I figured I was entitled to a few winks.
I had just about drifted off into a pleasant dream about Miss Beulah the Collie when I heard Drover’s voice.
“Hank, are you awake?”
“Murk snork not if I can help it.”
“I was just thinking. Remember that song I wrote about barking at a funnel-shaped cloud? It turned out just that way. We really barked at one. Do you reckon I can see into the future? Gosh, maybe I’m a prophet or something.”
I raised my head and managed to open both eyes a crack. “Drover, one of the great challenges we face in this life is trying to distinguish between prophecy and indigestion. Yours was indigestion. Good night.”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“Shut your trap.”
“Good night, Hank.”
And with that, we drifted off into our respective dreams and ended another exciting adventure on the ranch.
Case clo . . . snork murk sassafras zzzzzzzzzzzz.
Further Reading
Have you read all of Hank’s adventures?
1 The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
2 The Further Adventures of Hank the Cowdog
3 It’s a Dog’s Life
4 Murder in the Middle Pasture
5 Faded Love
6 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
7 The Curse of the Incredible Priceless Corncob
8 The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse
9 The Case of the Halloween Ghost
10 Every Dog Has His Day
11 Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest
12 The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox
13 The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve
14 Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business
15 The Case of the Missing Cat
16 Lost in the Blinded Blizzard
17 The Case of the Car-Barkaholic Dog
18 The Case of the Hooking Bull
19 The Case of the Midnight Rustler
20 The Phantom in the Mirror
21 The Case of the Vampire Cat
22 The Case of the Double Bumblebee Sting
23 Moonlight Madness
24 The Case of the Black-Hooded Hangmans
25 The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado
26 The Case of the Kidnapped Collie
27 The Case of the Night-Stalking Bone Monster
28 The Mopwater Files
29 The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper
30 The Case of the Haystack Kitties
31 The Case of the Vanishing Fishhook
32 The Garbage Monster from Outer Space
33 The Case of the Measled Cowboy
34 Slim’s Good-bye
35 The Case of the Saddle House Robbery
36 The Case of the Raging Rottweiler
37 The Case of the Deadly Ha-Ha Game
38 The Fling
39 The Secret Laundry Monster Files
40 The Case of the Missing Bird Dog
41 The Case of the Shipwrecked Tree
42 The Case of the Burrowing Robot
43 The Case of the Twisted Kitty
44 The Dungeon of Doom
45 The Case of the Falling Sky
46 The Case of the Tricky Trap
47 The Case of the Tender Cheeping Chickies
48 The Case of the Monkey Burglar
49 The Case of the Booby-Trapped Pickup
50 The Case of the Most Ancient Bone
51 The Case of the Blazing Sky
52 The Quest for the Great White Quail
53 Drover’s Secret Life
54 The Case of the Dinosaur Birds
55 The Case of the Secret Weapon
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56 The Case of the Coyote Invasion
57 The Disappearance of Drover
58 The Case of the Mysterious Voice
59 The Case of the Perfect Dog
60 The Big Question
61 The Case of the Prowling Bear
About the Author and Illustrator
John R. Erickson, a former cowboy, has written numerous books for both children and adults and is best known for his acclaimed Hank the Cowdog series. He lives and works on his ranch in Perryton, Texas, with his family.
Gerald L. Holmes has illustrated numerous cartoons and textbooks in addition to the Hank the Cowdog series. He lives in Perryton, Texas.
The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado Page 7