Tags:
adventure,
Mystery,
Texas,
dog,
cowdog,
Hank the Cowdog,
John R. Erickson,
John Erickson,
ranching,
Hank,
Drover,
Pete,
Sally May
planning your attack.
Beware of wasps and scorpions âcause they will bite you back.
And earthworms are a special case, they have no legs or toes,
And if you try to eat âem fast, theyâll wrap around your nose.
Eating bugs is lots of fun,
It wonât require a hotdog bun.
Nourishment for everyone.
Eating bugs is lots of fun.
Bugs are better for you than corndogs on a stick.
The only disadvantage is that bugs can make you sick.
Donât eat too many june bugs or miller moths or flies,
âCause if you do not chew them up, theyâll tickle your insides.
Eating bugs is lots of fun,
It wonât require a hotdog bun.
Nourishment for everyone.
Eating bugs is lots of fun.
Pretty good song, huh? You bet it was, just full of important dietary information and good practiÂcal advice. I mean, kids like Molly are going to eat bugs anyway, so we might as well give âem some instructions on how to do it right.
Anyways, where were we? Oh yes, we were in the pickup, rushing me and my snakebit nose to the doctor in town. How was I feeling? Very puffy, I guess youâd say, and not too full of energy. My highest ambition at that point was to lie down in a shady place and stare.
And drool. We were still getting a lot of action in the Drool Department.
Well, we came to the place where the county road runs into the main highway. Sally May stopped at the stop sign, mashed the clutch to the floor, and went looking for first gear. She missed and got third gear instead, and we went clattering and jerking out onto the highway.
A big eighteen-wheeler cattle truck came zooming around us and blew his horn. You know how that irritates me, smart aleck truck drivers blowing their horns and playing big shot on the highway. On a better day, I would have given that guy a barking he never would have remembered . . . a barking he would have remembered and never would have forgotten . . . a stern barking, in other words, but with the swollen face and everything, I had to let him go with a growl.
Sally May heard the growl, and I guess it must have sounded kind of pitiful. She reached down and scratched my ears.
âPoor old Hank. I know you donât feel good. Now that weâre on the highway, Iâll try to make up some timeâif this garbage can of Slimâs will hold together.â
Boy, I appreciated that. I mean, Sally May and I had had our ups and downs and our little periods of misunderstanding, and the fact that she would exceed the speed limit and go streaking into town just for me . . . well, that meant a lot.
And I was very sorry that the highway patrolman was waiting over the next hill, but I canât take the blame for that.
Chapter Eight: Sally Mayâs Secret Crinimal Record
I donât think we had been speeding for very long, but I guess it was long enough.
Alfred was the first to spot the officerâs car parked on the side of the road. We had just zoomed over a hill and, bingo, there he was at the bottom. All at once, the roof of his car began flashing blue and red lights, I mean, it looked like a prairie fire up there.
âUh-oh, Mom. Wooks wike you got nailed.â
I noticed that Sally Mayâs eyes rolled so far up in her head that they just sort of vanished for a moment. Kind of scared me, to tell you the truth, but then she snapped out of it, pulled over to the side of the road, and came to a stop.
She left the motor running. Maybe she wasnât sure it would start again. Good thinking.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. The officer came walking up to the window, a nice-looking fellow with brown eyes and a round face. On his shirt, he wore a little nameplate that said âRocha.â
âGood morning, maâam.â
Sally May managed a smile. âGood morning, Officer Rocha.â
âWeâve met before on this road, havenât we?â
âYes, Officer Rocha, we have met before on this
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley