Free The Case of the Missing Cat by John R. Erickson Page A

love to fight and eat and belch! Those two were champs.
    Tough. Double-tough.
    So I just lay there on top of the bluff and watched and listened. Hmmm. Pete was sitting and he appeared to be studying the same thing. Staring at the ground.
    Snort stood nearby, looking over Rip’s shoulder.
    That was odd.
    All at once Pete extended his right paw and tapped it on the ground, three times, and said, “Mmmm, sorry, Rip, but you sure let that one slip up on you.”
    Snort began to laugh. “Huh, huh, huh! Brother lose again! Brother got great big dumbness in head. Maybe now we stop and eat,” his gaze drifted to Pete, “cat supper!’’
    â€œUh!” said Rip.
    â€œMmm, let’s not rush into anything,” said Pete—and you’ll notice that he didn’t hump up and hiss at those two guys, since that would have made him an instant meatball. “Now let me see. I played Rip and won. I played Snort and won. But Rip and Snort haven’t played each other.”
    â€œHuh!” said Snort. “Snort not waste time play Chesterless Chester with brother, ’cause brother just big dummy.”
    Rip scowled and said, “Uh!”
    â€œOh, I’m not so sure about that,” Pete said, flicking the end of his tail, “and if you’ll just watch the tail going back and forth, back and forth, to and fro, lull-a-bye and good . . .”
    BLAM!
    Snort clubbed Kitty over the head with his paw. “Not try funny cat trick on Rip and Snort.”
    Pete scraped himself off the ground, straightened his ears, and spit dirt out of his mouth. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    â€œTalking about cat try to cheat, but Rip and Snort not fall for funny cheating cat trick, huh! Now cat move back and let Rip and Snort play Chesterless Chester, oh boy!” Snort swatted Pete out of the way and sat down at the so-called board. “Brother go first move.”
    â€œUh!” said Rip, and suddenly we had two cannibals staring down at a blank area of dirt and giving total concentration to . . .
    Total concentration? Hey, if they were so wrapped up in their . . .
    Creeping over the edge of the bluff and ex­tending my body to its fully extended position, I closed my jaws around Pete’s head and snatched him into the air. He did a flip and landed on the ground—on MY side of the bluff.
    The second he landed, he humped up and bris­tled and drew back his paw to deliver his usual swat to my nose. Lucky for him, he caught himself just in the nicker of time.
    â€œMmmm, my goodness, the cops are here!”
    â€œThat’s right, Kitty. I’ve come to save your worthless carcass, don’t ask me why, but before I do any life saving, I want to hear you say ‘calf rope.’”
    â€œCalf rope? Well now, ordinarily cats don’t . . .”
    â€œSay it, Pete, or I’ll throw you back with the cannibals.”
    â€œMmmm, I’m liking it better all the time. Calf rope, and let’s get out of here.”
    â€œHop on my back and hang on!”
    He sprang up on my back and we went zooming down the sand draw. We hadn’t gone far when I heard a riot starting behind us. No doubt Rip and Snort had looked up from their Checkerless Checker game and had figgered out that they’d been conned by their supper.
    And they didn’t sound too happy about it. “Uh, stop thief! Not leave with cat! Ranch dog in berry big trouble now!”
    Yes, “berry big trouble” indeed, which was a powerful incentitive for me to stretch out my legs and use my incredible speed to move our deal from the caprocks down to headquarters.
    I had just begun to pull away from them when Pete turned around in the saddle, so to speak, and faced the back and began talking trash to the brothers.
    â€œMmmm, you big galoots couldn’t catch a flea on a grandpa’s knee, and ha ha ha and ho ho ho and hee hee hee, and