The Case of the Monkey Burglar

by John R. Erickson

  “Oh, darn. What does he want?”

  “At this point, we don’t know for sure, but I would guess that . . . well, he wants to ask you a question or two.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know any answers.”

  “Drover, just give him a blank stare, the usual stuff. Go on.”

  He didn’t go cheerfully, but he went, mainly because I gave him a shove. He groveled over to Slim. Slim shook his head. “Uh uh.” He pointed a skinny finger at . . . well, at ME, it appeared, and growled, “You. Bozo. Come here.”

  Chapter Eight: Drover and I Figure It Out

  I grabbed a deep breath of air and began crawling toward him, rehearsing my story as I went. This wasn’t going to be fun. I crawled out into the sunlight and gave him a grin that said:

  “Okay, those tracks. We noticed them too, but we have no idea where they came from. We were wondering if they might be . . . well, fossilized monkey tracks. You know, tracks that have been here for thousands and thousands of years. See, once upon a time, when the world was young, bands of wild monkeys roamed across the ranch and . . .”

  I studied his face, and right away I knew that he wasn’t buying my story. Gulp. Then he spoke. “Hank, what happened while I was asleep?”

  I felt myself wilting under the heat of his gaze. It was . . . it was hard to explain . . . impossible to explain, actually. I mean, it was beginning to appear that Willie and Bub might have been impostors.

  Are you shocked? So was I. They had told us an incredible pack of lies, and we’d been completely hoodwinked.

  My head sank, and I felt rotten.

  Slim turned to Viola and told her about Deputy Kile’s report on the Monkey Gang. She was astonished. “He uses a monkey to steal? And you think they robbed Daddy’s shop? Slim, this is really bizarre! But how did the monkey get past Daddy’s dogs? Blackie and Jackie hear everything.”

  “Well, the deputy said they give goofy pills to the dogs.” He glared down at me. “But I guess they decided my dogs were goofy enough and didn’t need any pills. They watched the whole thing and didn’t even raise a squeak.” His eyes widened. “Say, we’d better jump in your pickup and check things up at headquarters. Those crooks might still be around. Come on!”

  They got into Viola’s pickup and roared away, leaving Drover and me sitting in the glare of our own failure.

  “Drover, how could we have allowed this to happen? What went wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it was the clothes that fooled us.”

  “You’re right. Who would ever expect to see a monkey wearing a cowboy costume?”

  “Not me. It’s not fair—they cheated.”

  “They really did. They thought they could make chumps out of us, dressing the monkey in clothes. And you know what? It worked. We were chumps, Drover. We fell for the whole shabby mess.”

  “Yeah, and I feel awful about it.”

  I began pacing back and forth in front of him. “But we can’t just roll over and die. We must learn from our bitter experience and come back again: stronger, wiser, and tougher dogs.”

  He stared at me through his tears. “What do you mean?”

  I whirled around and faced him. “I mean if the Monkey Gang strikes again, we’ll be ready for them.”

  “We will?”

  “Yes sir. We won’t be fooled by the phony cowboy clothes, and next time when we see a midget with monkey ears and a monkey mouth, we’ll know that he’s a monkey.”

  “Gosh, I never thought of that. But what if they try to give us goofy pills?”

  “We’ll laugh in their faces and put ’em under arrest!” I began pacing again as my mind raced toward huge thoughts and concepts. “Never again, Drover. Until we break this case, all leaves are cancelled. We’ll work twenty-four hours a day straight through, no breaks, no sleep, no rest, no food.”

  His eyes popped open. “No food?”

  “That’s correct. We stop for nothing or no one. Until we get those creeps behind bars, we will be oblidious to pain and the needs of the body. Oblibious. Ablibious. What is the word I’m searching for?”

  “Well, let me think here. ‘Ham bone’?”

  “No.”

  He wadded up his mouth. “Uh . . . ‘bacon’?”

  “No, a big word. Think, Drover.”

  “‘Elephant’?”

  “Wait, I’ve got it. ‘Oblivious.’”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Until we wrap up this case, we will be oblidious to all the so-forth.” Viola’s pickup was coming back toward the hay field. “Well, they didn’t find the crooks. Quick, under the truck. Maybe Slim will forget we’re here.”

  We scooted ourselves under the hay truck and became invisible to human eyes and enemy radar. The pickup stopped and two doors slammed. Slim and Viola made their way toward the truck, and I could hear them talking.

  Slim: “Well, they missed a good chance there, but they’re liable to come back after dark. If they do, I’ll be ready for ’em.”

  Viola: “Slim, please, just call the sheriff.”

  “I ain’t calling the sheriff.”

  “Why?”

  “Viola, when you call the sheriff, it ends up in the local newspaper. I can see it now: ‘While Slim Chance, local cowboy hero, was taking his afternoon nap under the hay truck, two hay hooks and a socket set disappeared from the cab. Mr. Chance couldn’t describe the suspects, didn’t write down the license plate number, and never even saw a vehicle, but he did find a monkey track in the dirt.’”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “I’d be laughed out of the county. If Loper read that in the paper, he’d holler and squall for three days. I’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Well, promise that you won’t do anything foolish.”

  “I never set out to do anything foolish. It just turns out that way sometimes.”

  “Slim! Promise.”

  “Okay, I promise that I won’t shoot out his headlights, radiator, and all four tires. I won’t take a piece of windmill rod and whip him and his frazzling monkey all the way up to Kansas, although that might be fun.”

  “Nothing dangerous or foolish?”

  “All I want is a tag number and a description of the pickup. Then I’ll call the sheriff, and there won’t be any mention of me taking a nap.”

  “Fair enough. Well, you said something about hauling hay?”

  “It ain’t moved. You still offering to drive?”

  “Let the adventure begin.”

  “Heh. Well, driving that old truck will give you plenty of adventure.”

  At this point, you’re probably worried sick that Drover and I got squashed under the wheels of the hay truck, right? I mean, we’d found it convenient to vanish for a while, and we’d gone into Stealthy Silence under the truck, so you might say that our lives were in serious danger.

  Actually, the danger factor was pretty small. A dog would have to be deaf and blind to get squashed under that particular truck, and do you know why? Because when they fired up the motor, it made such an awful roar and sent out such a cloud of smoke, even a rock would have moved.

  We moved, with time to spare, and spent the rest of the day on rodent duty in the hay field. By this time, Slim had other things on his mind besides the Monkey Episode, such as blistered fingers, aching muscles, stickers in his elbows, dehydration, and sweat-burned eyes, and it all added up to a pleasant afternoon. When Slim is bone-tired and dripping sweat, he’s pretty easy to get along with.

  It must have been around eight o’clock that evening when we backed the last load of hay into the stack lot. Slim mopped his face with a bandana and pulled off his leather gloves. “I’ll stack it tomorrow,” he said to Viola. “I’m beat and I know you are too, riding in that hot truck all afternoon.” He sat down on the running board and caught his breath. “I sure appreci
ate your help, Viola. Would you let me pay you something?”

  She gave him an odd smile. “Yes, but not money.”

  “Uh-oh. What have I got myself into?”

  She looked off into the distance. “Frankie McWhorter is playing a dance at Lipscomb tomorrow night.”

  Slim flinched and stared at the ground. “Well, I’m too tired to argue. I guess if you’re brave enough to dance with me, I’m brave enough take you.” With much grunting and grumbling, he jacked himself up to a standing position. “I’ll walk you to your pickup.”

  She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they headed for her pickup. “You look exhausted. How are you going to stay awake tonight?”

  “I don’t plan to stay awake.”

  “What about the thieves?”

  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Well, I don’t know, but I’ll manage somehow. I already know I can’t depend on them dogs. I’d get more help out of a couple of cinder blocks.”

  What? Did you hear that? Why, I’d never been so insulted. Hey, just because we’d messed up the first time didn’t mean we would let it happen again. For his information, I was wide-awake and loaded for bear. And mad too. If that monkey showed up on my ranch again, he was going to get a rude surprise.

  Slim walked her to the pickup and opened the door. They stood there for a moment, as though neither knew what to say. Viola fussed with a button on her blouse, while Slim rocked up and down on his toes and jingled some coins in his pocket. Then he cut his eyes from side to side, grabbed a big gulp of air, bent down, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Thanks again. See you tomorrow evening.” He hurried away.

  She smiled, touched the spot he had kissed, and drove off.

  I turned to Drover. “Did you see that?”

  His face melted into a grin. “Yeah, how sweet!”

  “Sweet, my foot. He has his nerve, planting kisses on my lady friend.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “What do you think? Of course I’m jealous. She came over here to see ME. I turn my back on him for a minute, and he’s kissing her on the cheek!”

  “Well, I think maybe she came to see him, not you.”

  “Drover, anyone can see that she’s nuts about me. Why, I’m surprised she didn’t slap him baldheaded. And if he ever does that again, I hope she does.”

  “She won’t.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I’m starved.”

  At that very moment, my stomach growled. “Yes, I’m kind of hungry myself. Let’s grab some supper. This could be a long night.”

  We made our way up to the machine shed, where we found the overturned Ford hubcap that served as our dog bowl. Slim had filled it to the brim with kernels of Co-op dog food, and we hacked our way through about half of it.

  Was it delicious? No, but it would keep us alive until something better came along. That’s the best you can say about Co-op dog food.

  Chapter Nine: We Prepare for the Worst

  Around dark, Slim finished his chores at the corrals and joined us in front of the machine shed. Dragging himself along like an old man, he sat down on an overturned bucket in front of the shed and stared at the ground with glazed eyes.

  “Dogs, here’s the plan. We’ve got to stay up tonight and keep a watch. The trouble is, I’m wore out and hungry, and I smell like a billy goat.”

  Hmm. Good point. I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but, yes, he did smell a little ripe, after sweating all day in the field.

  “I’m going to raid Sally May’s icebox and fix myself a bite of supper. Then I’m going to crawl into her bathtub and soak for about half an hour.” He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “Maybe a nice hot bath will wake me up.”

  What? He thought that soaking in a tub of hot water would wake him up?

  Maybe I should have barked a protest and tried to argue the point, but I had no reason to suppose that he would listen to me. They never do, you know. One of the first things a cowdog learns about his job is that his people really don’t want to know what he thinks.

  It’s too bad. We dogs could spare them a lot of grief if they would just listen to us, but they don’t and there’s nothing we can do about it.

  He took a big yawn and stretch, then his eyes drifted down to me. The lines in his brow hardened. “Hank, I don’t know what kind of foolishness went on between you and that monkey this afternoon, but if he shows up again tonight, I’d sure appreciate it if you’d remember who buys your dog food.” He leaned down into my face. “It ain’t a monkey. Am I making myself clear?”

  Well, sure . . . yes. Of course.

  “If you want to be pals with a monkey, do it on your own time.”

  I did NOT want to be pals with a monkey, and there was no need for Slim to rub salsa into old wounds.

  He turned and started toward the house. “You act like a monkey about half the time, but try to remember that you’re a dog.”

  Oh, brother. Make one little mistake around here and they throw it on you like a saddle and ride you until you drop. For his information, I had spent the entire afternoon roasting over the fires of guilt, and had concluded on my own that . . . yes, Drover had made a serious mistake and had failed his ranch. And I had no intention of letting it happen again.

  Slim shuffled down to the house and disappeared inside. As darkness fell around me, I realized that . . . yawn . . . gee, I was really bushed. I mean, chasing rodents all day in the hot sun . . . yawn . . . will suck the life right out of a . . . yawn . . . dog.

  And all at once, I began to . . . yawn . . . wonder if I could . . .

  I know what you’re thinking. You think I rushed down to the gas tanks, fell into the loving embrace of my gunnysack bed, and didn’t move a hair until morning. And while I slept, the Monkey Burglars came and stole half the ranch.

  Isn’t that exactly what you were thinking? Go ahead and admit it.

  Well, I have two words to say to that: ha ha. That’s the most ridiculous, the most outrageous . . . okay, maybe it’s not so ridiculous, and just to prove what kind of dog I am, I’m going to admit, here and now, in front of everybody, that I was tempted to sprint down to the gas tanks and dive into the awaiting arms of my gunnysack bed.

  But get this: I didn’t do it. I imposed Higher Discipline upon myself and stayed awake, so you were wrong. Are you sorry that you doubted me? You should be.

  I stayed awake, even though I could hear my gunnysack singing a lullaby and calling my name. Then, sometime in the deep dark of night, I saw a pair of headlights creeping toward ranch headquarters, and heard the sound of an unidentified vehicle.

  Okay, let’s be honest. Drover was the first to turn in the report. “Hank, wake up! Somebody’s here. Hank?”

  I leaped to my feet. “Everybody stand back, don’t panic. Drover, is that you?”

  “Where?”

  “There, right in front of your stub tail.”

  He looked at his tail. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Good, I thought so.” I blinked my eyes. “Drover, I have a feeling that something’s going on around here.”

  “Yeah, something is. A pickup just stopped at the mailbox.”

  “A pickup!” I swung my gaze around to the north, just in time to see a pair of headlights go dark. A chill of dread cut a path down the middle of my back. “Holy smokes, they’re back! Where is Slim?”

  “I don’t know. He went down to the house three hours ago and never came back.”

  “What!”

  “Hank, what are we going to do? What if it’s that monkey again?”

  By this time, the vaporous waves of vapor had . . . okay, maybe I had slipped into a very light doze, but now I was back on the job

  “Drover, listen carefully. We don’t have much time. I’m going to rush down to the house and bark the alarm. I do
n’t know what Slim’s doing in there, but we need him out here right away. While I’m gone, you go up to the machine shed and stand guard. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Be a brave little soldier, and I’ll see you on the other side.”

  In the privacy of my mind, I strapped on the tanks of my Rocket Dog suit, turned the controls to Turbo Five, and went roaring down to the house, followed by a long streak of yellow flames and smoke. At the yard gate, I screeched to a halt and unbuckled the RD equipment. I was about to sound the alarm when I noticed . . .

  “Drover? I thought you were guarding the machine shed. That was our plan.”

  “Yeah, but I thought of a better plan: Stay close to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well . . . I’m kind of scared of monkeys.”

  “Oh, brother. Okay, it’s too late to spill the milk. Let’s go into Code Three Barking. Ready? Hit it!”

  Boy, you should have heard us. We leaned into those Code Threes and really rattled the windows. Very impressive barking. Then we waited for Slim to come bursting out the door. Seconds passed, minutes. Nothing.

  “What is wrong with that guy! How can I protect this ranch if he . . . wait a second, I just figured it out. He fell asleep in the bathtub! I knew it, I tried to tell him. Okay, son, I’m going into the yard, and I may have to tear down the door to dig him out of there. You wait here and keep a lookout. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “If a monkey tries to offer you some pills, don’t take ’em.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good luck, soldier.”

  I coiled up the enormous muscles in my hind legs and went flying over the fence. Back on Planet Earth, I sprinted toward a window on the north side of the house, which I happened to know was the bathroom window. There, I spread out all four legs, went into the Barking Stance, and prepared to . . .

  “Drover? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be standing guard at the gate.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” He keeled over, kicked all four legs, and started bawling. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what I’m doing!”