The Case of the Saddle House Robbery. John R. Erickson

not have enough bark for punch hole in wet paper sack.”

      “Oh yeah? Tell that to the sun, Snort, because it comes up every morning when I bark at it . . . well, except this morning, and for some reason it didn’t work.”

      “Didn’t work ’cause Hunk have weenie bark.”

      “Weenie bark! Are you kidding me? Oh, I get it. You’re thinking of Drover, and yes, you might describe his bark as a weenie bark. But see, I’m not Drover.” They stared at me with empty eyes. “I’m not, honest. I’m not Drover and I’ve never been Drover. Therefore . . .”

      “Therefore Hunk talk too much.” He clubbed me over the head with his paw. BONK! “Hunk have weenie bark and not bark up sun.”

      “Okay, fine. But if I don’t bark up the sun, why do you think it comes up every morning, huh? You can’t answer that, can you?”

      They exchanged wicked glances and grinned. Then Snort puffed himself up to his full height and tapped himself on the chest. “Rip and Snort howl up sun, not dummy ranch dog with weenie bark.”

      “Oh yeah? Let’s see you do it.”

      The cannibals exchanged grins and nodded their heads. “Ha! Hunk fixing to see. Better watch real close.”

      The brothers turned and faced the east. Well, they had that part right, facing east instead of north or west. They sat down on their haunches, puffed themselves up with big gulps of air, and started launching their famous “Coyote Howl-Up-the-Sun Song” toward the eastern horizon.

      Have we discussed that song? Maybe not. It was a special coyote song they used for this one big event. It wasn’t quite as bad as most of the trash they sang, but it was bad enough. Here’s how it went, word for word and note for note.

      The Coyote Howl-Up-the-Sun Song

      Sun get up

      Off your duff

      We cannibals order the start of day.

      Shake a leg,

      Out of bed.

      Or else we will have to get mad.

      That’s bad.

      Well, they finished their noise, and you know what? It was still as dark as the inside of a cow. The sun wasn’t coming up.

      This pleased me, of course, but I didn’t dare say a word. Snort mumbled something about “dummy sun,” then he and Rip reloaded their lungs with air, and went back to work. This time, they skipped the singing and went to straight howling. They howled so hard and loud, they both collapsed on the ground.

      Snort called me over. “Maybe Hunk better help howl up stupid sun.”

      “Now you’re talking. Okay, guys, the gloves come off now. Let’s give it the full load this time.”

      And so it was that . . .

      BONK!