Free Night of the Howling Dogs by Graham Salisbury Page B

can take you down a deep, dark hole if you’re not careful.

That night around the campfire we roasted marshmallows on sticks. Billy tended a nasty blister on his heel, and Mr. Bellows had a cut on his shin where he’d slipped and hit a jagged rock. Sam, Tad, Zach, and Reverend Paia were so beat I thought they might fall asleep sitting up.
    “That hike too much for you, Pop?” Mike said.
    Reverend Paia grunted, too tired to respond.
    In the twilight across the grove, the paniolos had their own campfire going. Soon the last glow of sundown faded away and turned the ocean black.
    We sat quietly around the campfire. Everyone was worn out. And full. Mike had actually planned a decent meal of potatoes, carrots, onions, a magic potion of spices, and hamburger kept on ice that was nearly melted. We each sliced and combined all this, wrapped portions in aluminum foil, and stuck them in the fire to cook. I could have eaten five of them.
    Mr. Bellows went over to invite the paniolos to join us around the fire, but only Masa and a round-faced smiley guy named Cappy came back with him. The other cowboys had already gone fishing down the coast, their lamps glowing in the distance.
    “This is Reverend Paia, father of Mike over there,” Mr. Bellows said, and Masa reached out to shake.
    “Nice to meet you, Reverend.”
    “Same here,” Reverend Paia said. “Have a seat.”
    Masa and Cappy eased down around the fire. “You and John are the first Boy Scout leaders I’ve ever met,” Masa said. The sound of Mr. Bellows’s first name gave me a small jolt. I hardly ever heard him called anything but Mr. Bellows or Dad.
    “First time for everything.”
    Masa smiled.
    Mr. Bellows swept his hand toward the rest of us. “Meet Troop Seventy-seven, small, but mighty. We’re out of Hilo.”
    “Did they clean this place up?” Masa said. “I never seen Halape so spotless.”
    “I think that was the big boys,” Mr. Bellows said.
    Masa nodded toward Louie and Mike. “Nice job.”
    “Were you ever a Boy Scout, Masa?” Mr. Bellows asked.
    Masa shook his head gravely. “No, I grew up on a ranch in Kau. Same place I work now. Too far for anything like that. I was chasing cows and pigs by the time I was ten. Cappy, too. Me and him go back to the beginning of time, ah, Cappy?”
    “Long time.”
    Reverend Paia poked the glowing coals with a stick. “It’s so easy for some boys to get sucked into a bad way of life, you know? Which is why I’m glad these boys want to be Scouts…. We have a good time.”
    Mr. Bellows nodded, firelight wobbling on his face. He knew way too much about how bad it could get. He saw it all day long in his work.
    “Mr. Masa,” Casey said. “Tell us more about the small white dog.”
    Mr. Bellows looked up. “What dog is that?”
    “Dylan saw it.”
    Masa shook his head.
    The younger guys perked up, sensing something interesting. Louie stretched out on the sand, his head propped up on a coconut wrapped in his sweatshirt.
    “Pele,” Masa said softly, looking out into the darkness.
    Mr. Bellows raised his eyebrows.
    “One of your boys saw a small white dog last night,” Masa said, seeing his confusion. “Down on this end of the island, that means something. You see, Pele often appears as a small white dog.”
    Mr. Bellows shifted to face Masa. “Listen up, boys,” he said. “What can you tell us about Pele, Masa?”
    “Where did you grow up, John?”
    “Arizona. My wife and I came here after I got out of the marines.”
    Masa nodded, drawing circles in the sand with a stick. “So maybe you might be…reluctant to believe?” He looked up.
    Mr. Bellows cocked his head.
    Masa dropped the stick. “Pele is…Listen…see, not everyone believes this, but…Pele actually exists.”
    I glanced at Reverend Paia. Did church people believe this kind of thing?
    Reverend Paia said, “Pele is something these boys should know about, living on this island.”
    “Everybody already knows about Pele,” Louie