“You think I ought to be moving along?”

  “No question about it. I’ll walk you to the road.” We walked in silence to the county road. “Hap, thanks for dropping by, and I hope you have a nice trip.”

  “Thanks a lot for trying to help. I know you’re disappointed in me and I wish…” His voice cracked and he wasn’t able to finish his sentence. He turned toward the west and walked away—the picture of a broken dog.

  I know what you’re thinking. I should have called him back. I should have given him one more chance. I should have…what should I have done? Be fair and honest about this. I mean, there’s no law that says a dog can’t do ridiculous things, but actions have consequences, right? When we mess up, somebody has to pay the bill. I had my own problems to worry about.

  I know, I know. The guy was kind and gentle, likeable, loveable, and great with kids, but he was his own worst enemy. If we let him hang around for another day, there was no telling what kind of disaster he would bring to the ranch. And guess who might get blamed: me.

  No, he’d made the right decision: leave the ranch and take his problems down the road. In the long run, everyone would be happier and better off. He would find a whole new set of friends and, for a few hours, they would think he was the World’s Most Perfect Dog…until they got the bad news that he was just another lunatic bird dog.

  Okay, I’ll admit that it made me sad to sit there and watch him trudging off to his next fiasco, but in my line of work, we have to keep a tight rein on our emotions. See, those emotions cloud your mind and lead you into bad…

  “Happy? Wait.”

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I COULD NOT BELIEVE IT! It went against everything in my background and training. Do you know why I did it? Here’s the truth: Nobody wants to live in a world where Labrador retrievers quit smiling, and that applies even to hard-boiled Heads of Ranch Security.

  Oh brother.

  I caught up with him. “Happy, you can’t leave.”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “But I thought you said…”

  “Don’t tell me what I said. I’m already confused enough. You can’t leave, period. You’ve made a mess of things here, but at least you’re safe. Maybe your people will show up to claim you.”

  “Oh, that would be nice. I sure miss ‘em.”

  “Come with me. You’re under house arrest.” We started back to the office. “Now listen, you meathead, things have got to change, starting right now.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Stay out of the garden. Stay out of the compost heap. No barking at night, and I don’t care if you see the Creature From the Black Latrine. No barking!”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Don’t chew the rake. Don’t shred paper. Don’t tip over the garbage barrels. If you get hungry in the night, eat your heart out. Chew your paw. No more ridiculous behavior. Do you copy?”

  “Yes sir, I hear you. And I sure appreciate all your kindness.”

  I gave him a flaming glare. “It’s not kindness, Happy. I know that if you left, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week. It’s purely selfish.”

  “Well, thanks for all your selfishness.”

  I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream in his face, so I let it pass. It was a pretty funny line, actually, “Thanks for all your selfishness.” What kind of dog would make such a ridiculous statement? A happy Lab.

  We had just about reached the office, when I heard a vehicle coming into ranch headquarters. “Hap, we’ve got an unidentified vehicle on the ranch and I have to check it out. Go to your room and lie down. Don’t do anything until I get back.”

  “Yes sir.”

  I didn’t leave until I saw him flop down on his gunny sack. Whew! Maybe he would be safe for a few minutes. Then I turned my attention to the approaching vehicle, a pickup with Slim Chance at the wheel. And he was driving faster than normal. I had a feeling that he was bringing some bad news. I was right.

  He pulled up behind the house and got out of the pickup. Loper and Sally May were standing beside the yard gate. Loper growled, “What did you tear up this time?”

  “We’re out of water in the northwest pasture. The wind hasn’t blown in three days and the stock tank’s down to mud and moss. Cows are standing on their heads, trying to get a drink.”

  Loper scowled and shook his head. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Well, let’s hook up the gas engine. You’ll have to camp out and keep it running all night.”

  A broad smile flashed across Sally May’s face. “He’s going to camp at the windmill? I have a wonderful idea. He can take Happy!”

  Slim studied her face. “Is there something I don’t know?”

  Loper filled him in about all our adventures with Happy Lab. He’d barked half the night at the lawn mower, eaten everything in the garden, and tried to eat Sally May’s rake. “I put an ad on the radio and surely the owners will show up, but in the meantime, he’s a hazard to the ranch.”

  Slim nodded. “I’ll take him. Where I’m going, there won’t be anything for him to tear up—unless he chews windmill towers.”

  Sally May said, “Don’t be too sure that he won’t. He ate every squash and tomato in my garden, and he needs to go back where he came from.”

  Okay, it was back to work for me. Windmills are a vital part of the operation of this ranch and Slim would need my help. Most of your ordinary mutts don’t know beans about pasture water and windmills. Me? I make a hand.

  It took the men an hour to gather up all their windmill tools and Slim’s camping supplies, then we headed north in two pickups. (Loper had to help Slim rig up the gasoline pump on the windmill, but didn’t plan to camp out, so he took his own vehicle).

  Happy and I rode in the back of Slim’s pickup, and the Lab seemed thrilled to be going out on a big adventure. “Boy, this’ll be fun. I sure appreciate you letting me tag along.”

  “It won’t be fun, Hap. They’re putting you on ice, so to speak, taking you to a place where you can’t possibly get into trouble.”

  “Oh, good. That’s just what I need. I sure hate to be a burden”

  He hated to be a burden. Oh brother. But like I said before, who can stay mad at a Lab? He was the nicest ranch-wrecking dog I’d ever met.

  We drove two miles north of headquarters, until we came to an old wooden windmill sitting all by itself on a wind-swept hill, only the hill hadn’t been wind-swept in several days, and that was the problem. As Slim had reported, the windmill had quit pumping and the water level in the stock tank had shrunk down to five inches of moss and black stinking mud.

  The cattle needed fresh water and that was the whole point of this operation, don’t you see, hooking up a gasoline engine to the pump rod, so that it would make a continuous stream of water, whether the wind was blowing or not.

  All Slim had to do was wake up four or five times in the night to fill the fuel tank with gasoline, and I had every reason to suppose that he would need my help. I mean, let’s be honest about this. The guy sleeps like a pile of lumber. I needed to be there to make sure he woke up every time the motor ran out of gas. It wouldn’t be a glamorous job, but somebody had to do it.

  Around four o’clock, the men had bolted the motor in place, hooked it up to the pump rod, and filled it with gas. Hey, they had even checked the oil, which isn’t necessarily something you expect your average cowboy to do. Slim grinned, rubbed his hands together, stepped up to the pull-rope, and gave it a crank.

  Two hours later, after they had scraped all the sludge and mud dauber nests out of the carburetor, and had screamed themselves hoarse, the engine fired up and went to pumping. Our cowboy crew had won a major victory over the evil gremlins that play nasty tricks on gasoline engines, and they were proud of themselves.

  Loper wished us good night and drove back to headquarters, and we prepared for our night on the prairie.

  You’ll never guess what happened. Never.

  Chapter Twelve: Incredible

  Slim built a little fire out of cottonwood limbs and started his cowboy supper: bacon, fried potatoes, and canned hash, all thrown together in a big cast iron skillet. As you might expect, I watched this with more than casual interest, and so did Mister Hungry All The Time.

  I could hear him slobbering and licking his chops. “Boy, it smells good, don’t it?”

  “Don’t torture yourself, pal. He’s not going to share it with us, and even if he did, you’d be sorry.”

  “Reckon?”

  “Oh yes, I’ve been down this road. He’s a bachelor. Anything he cooks in a skillet will give you the most incredible indigestion of your life.”

  He mopped his lips with his tongue. “I’d sure like to try it. You know about me and spuds. I love ‘em.”

  “It’ll never happen.”

  So we sat there like stumps and watched Slim eat. It was painful. I knew his bachelor food wouldn’t taste as good as it smelled, but let’s face it, anything cooked with bacon grease smells pretty yummy. You could cook an old tire in bacon grease and it would smell good.

  We stared and licked our chops and whapped our tails on the ground, but you know Slim. He takes hints like a buffalo.

  But then, wonder of wonders, he looked around and saw us. “Y’all hungry?”

  Happy moved his front paws up and down and let out a groan. I tried to be more professional about it. I, well, moved my front paws up and down and let out a groan.

  Slim glanced down into the skillet. “Well, I guess you can have what’s left. A man ought to share with his dogs.”

  Exactly right, yes, and it had taken him long enough to reach such an obvious moral decision.

  He scraped what was left in the skillet out on the grass. Happy leaped to his feet and stared at it with blazing eyes. “What’s the drill here? Can we start eating?”

  “Yes, but remember that this will be a Sharing Experience. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty.”

  “Got it.”

  I was maybe half a step behind him, and by the time I got there, he had vaporized the food. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Hey, you ate it all!”

  “I did?” He squinted down at the greasy spot in the grass. “Boy, I sure did. I don’t know how that happened.”

  “It’s not a mystery. You eat like a vacuum sweeper.”

  His eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry, I really am. I guess I’ll just go to bed and try to stay out of everybody’s way.”

  “Good idea.” He found himself a grassy spot about fifteen feet from Slim’s bedroll and flopped down, but I noticed that he didn’t stretch out. He was still sitting up. “Now what?”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  “Too bad! Chew a stick. Good night.”

  And so it was that we began our night on the prairie. The pump motor chugged along for three hours and ran out of gas. Slim woke up, found his glasses beside his bedroll, switched on his flashlight, filled the tank, cranked the motor again, and returned to his bedroll.

  He repeated the process throughout the night, and I was amazed that everything worked so well. Slim didn’t need me to bark him out of bed, Happy Lab didn’t make a peep all night long, and I got a good night’s sleep.

  I had no idea we had a problem until…well, it must have been around eight o’clock. We’d slept late and the sun was already up, and I heard a croaky voice say, “Where are my glasses? I put ‘em right here.”

  I sat up, blinked my eyes, and glanced around. The pump motor had run out of gas. Happy Lab was curled up in a ball and sending up a long line of Z’s. Slim Chance was on his hands and knees, squinting at the ground and patting around with his hand—looking for his glasses.

  It took me about five seconds to put this all together, and it hit me like a fat duck falling out of the sky. I leaped to my feet and stormed over to Happy Lab. “Wake up. What did you do with Slim’s glasses?”

  He staggered to his feet and took a few stumbling steps. “Is it dinner time?”

  “No. Where are the glasses?”

  “Hey, I just woke up. What are you talking about?”

  “Slim left his glasses beside his bedroll. They’re gone and I know you took them.”

  He stared at me. “Those were his glasses?”

  “I knew it! Yes, they were his glasses, and he’s half-blind without them. Who’s going to drive us back to headquarters?”

  “Gosh, I never thought of that.”

  “What did you do with the glasses?”

  “Well, I got hungry in the night.”

  A cold chill swept over me. “No. You didn’t eat them. Tell me you didn’t eat a pair of glasses.”

  “Well, I couldn’t find a stick to chew.”

  I stuck my nose in his face. “Happy, listen to me. No dog in this world is dumb enough to chew up and swallow a pair of glasses. Maybe you gnawed them. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  He glanced around and shrugged. “No, I ate ‘em.”

  I was stunned. “Nobody eats glasses!”

  “Well, I did, but they came right back up, kind of made me sick.”

  For a long moment, I wavered between an explosion of anger and a fit of insane laughter. “You ate his glasses and then threw up?” He gave his head a mournful nod. “Oh brother, this is the craziest…”

  Just then, I became aware of Slim’s presence towering over us. His hands were resting on his hips and he was beaming a hostile, near-sighted glare down at the Labrador.

  He, too, had solved the mystery. “Happy, if you don’t find my glasses, you ain’t going to be near as happy as you used to be. Where’d you put ‘em?”

  Squirming with guilt and wagging his tree-limb tail, Hap led us over to the base of the windmill tower. There, in the buffalo grass, we saw a puddle that consisted of bacon grease, fried potatoes, and hash, with Slim’s bent-up, twisted wire-rimmed glasses swimming in the middle of it.

  Slim bowed his head and mumbled, “They don’t pay me enough for this job.”

  What followed wasn’t pretty. With one finger and his thumb, Slim fished the glasses out of the glop and washed them off in the stock tank. He spent a few minutes trying to bend them back into shape, and when he put them on his nose, he looked…well, he looked pretty silly. They were twisted and cockeyed, but at least he could see well enough to drive us back to headquarters.

  He gassed up the pump motor and got it running again, and told us dogs to load into the back of the pickup. Through his crooked glasses, he scowled at Happy and grumbled, “Pooch, it’s time for you to go home. You’ve wore out your welcome around here.”

  On the drive back to headquarters, Happy seemed tormented by guilt. “Hank, I feel awful about this, I really do.”

  “I know you do, Hap, and I guess you can’t help it. But tell me one thing. How did you swallow a pair of glasses? I’ve never heard of a dog doing that.”

  He gazed up at the sky. “Well, they sure scraped going down, and I had an uneasy feeling about it right away.”

  He swallowed a pair of glasses. They scraped going down and gave him an uneasy feeling.

  What can you say? Nothing. The spear of anger blunts itself on the rock of truth.

  And that’s about the end of the story. Against incredible odds, Happy Lab went from being the dog of everyone’s dreams, to the dog everyone couldn’t wait to get rid of.

  And you know what? It worked out slick, because guess who had just pulled up to the house when we got there?

  Hap’s family, David and Sandra Sell from Booker. They’d heard Loper’s ad on the radio and the whole family was lined up and waiting for us when we pulled in: mom and dad and six kids, and they wore the biggest smiles you ever saw in your life.

  Happy ran to them and they swarmed all over him, hugging and laughing and squealing with joy. They loved that mutt, absolutely loved him. Beaming a smile, Mrs. Sell turned to Sally May. “Thank you so much for taking care of him. He is the sweetest dog we’ve ever had.”

  “Have you had him long?”

  “Well, no. Some friends gave him to us two weeks ago.”

  Sally May nodded. “Do you have a garden?”

  “No, we didn’t get it planted this year.”

  Sally May gave her a frozen smile. Slim adjusted his crippled glasses and looked away. Loper coughed and shuffled his feet and managed to say, “Well, we sure enjoyed your dog.”

  Me? I laughed for three days. Happy Lab, the World’s Most Perfect Dog, had ended up making me look like a bouquet of roses, and even Sally May took notice. She apologized for accusing me of terrible crimes and—get this—the next time she went to town, she brought back a package of pig ears for me to chew on.

  Wow. Does it get any better than that? Not on this ranch.

  This case is closed.

  Further Reading

  Have you read all of Hank’s adventures?

  1 The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog

  2 The Further Adventures of Hank the Cowdog

  3 It’s a Dog’s Life

  4 Murder in the Middle Pasture

  5 Faded Love

  6 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

  7 The Curse of the Incredible Priceless Corncob

  8 The Case of the One-Eyed Killer Stud Horse

  9 The Case of the Halloween Ghost

  10 Every Dog Has His Day

  11 Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest

  12 The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox

  13 The Wounded Buzzard on Christmas Eve

  14 Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business

  15 The Case of the Missing Cat