Read Online The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson - Free Book Online Page A

that goofing off beats the heck out of hard work.
    I discovered it by accident, and once I had a taste of indolence, I loved it. I mean, all at once I had no responsibilities, no cares, no worries. When I woke up in the morning, I didn’t have to wonder if my ranch had made it through another night, or if I would get yelled at again for something I hadn’t done.
    About a week after I joined the tribe, I made friends with two brothers named Rip and Snort. They were what you’d call typical good-old-boy coyotes: filthy, smelled awful, not real smart, loved to fight and have a good time, and had no more ambition than a couple of fence posts.
    If Rip and Snort took a shine to you, you had two of the best friends in the world. If they didn’t happen to like your looks or your attitude, you were in a world of trouble. I got along with them.
    One evening along toward sunset, they came around and asked if I wanted to go carousing. I was feeling refreshed, since I’d slept a good part of the day—got up around noon and ate a piece of a rabbit that Missy had caught, then went back to bed. I was all rested up and said, “Sure I’d love to go carousing.”
    So off we went, me and Rip and Snort, on a big adventure. We went down the canyon, crossed that big sandy draw that cuts through there, then on across some rolling country until we came to an old silage pit. I’d been by it many times, but I’d never taken the time to go into the pit and check things out. By the time I took over the ranch, the cowboys had quit feeding silage, so I didn’t know much about it.
    One of the things I didn’t know about silage was that it’s fermented, which means that it’s got some alkyhall in it, which means that if a guy eats enough of it, his attitude about the world will begin to change.
    All those years I’d spent on the ranch, and I never knew any of that. But Rip and Snort knew all about silage, yes they did, and they had made a well-packed trail into and out of the silage pit.
    So we started eating silage. Struck me as kind of bitter at first, but the more I ate the less I noticed the bitterness. By George, after about an hour of that, I thought it was as sweet as honey.
    Well, we ate and we laughed and we laughed and we ate, and when it came time to leave, Rip and Snort had to drag me out of there, fellers, ’cause I just couldn’t get enough of that fine stuff.
    A big moon was out and we went single file down a cow path, Snort in the lead, me in the middle, and Rip on the caboose. Funny thing, that cow path kept wiggling around and I had a devil of a time trying to stay on it. I asked Rip about it and he said he was having the same trouble, derned path kept jumping from side to side. (I suspect the silage had something to do with it, is what I suspect.)
    Well, next thing I knew, Snort topped a rise and came to a sudden halt, which caused a little pile-up, with me running into Snort and Rip running into me because couldn’t any of us see real well at that point.
    â€œStop here,” said Snort, “sing many song. Sing pretty, sing loud, teach Hunk coyote song.”

    So we all sat down on our haunches, throwed back our heads, and started singing. Let’s see if I can remember how that song went.
    â€œMe just a worthless coyote, me howling at the moon.
    Me like to sing and holler, me crazy as a loon.
    Me not want job or duties, no church or Sunday school.
    Me just a worthless coyote . . .” and I don’t remember the last part, only it rhymed with “school.” Pool or drool, something like that.
    It was a crackerjack of a song. We ripped through it a couple of times, until I had her down. Then we divided up. Snort took the bass, Rip carried the melody, and I got up on the high tenor.
    Don’t know as I ever heard better singing. It was one of them priceless moments in life when three very gifted guys come together and blend their talents