The Case of the Vampire Cat Read Free Page A

from. The “Stealth” part came from . . . let’s see if I can remember what Slim told Little Alfred . . . the old truck was so well camouflaged that it was “invisible to enemy radar.”
    That’s what he said, and if you want to know who the “enemy” was and why they were using radar on the ranch, you’ll have to ask Slim.
    Actually, I think it was some kind of joke.
    Anyways, we hiked over to the Cammo-Stealth, which was parked on the west side of the camp house. Slim climbed in under the wheel and called Little Alfred over to watch.
    â€œPay attention, Button. I may get hurt down here one of these days and need you to drive me to town. I want you to know how to start this old thing.”
    The boy climbed up on the running board. “Okay, Swim.”
    â€œFirst thing you do when you drive any vehicle is check the gas gauge, only the gas gauge don’t work on this truck, so you run a shovel handle into the tank. Here, I’d better show you.”
    He got out and ran a shovel handle into the tank. He pulled it out and showed the boy the wet mark. “That means you’ve got about ten gallons of gas.”
    He got back inside and went through the whole starting routine: put the gearshift into neutral; pull out the ignition switch; pull out the choke as far as it will go, but don’t press on the gas pedal, “’cause this thing will flood if you even say ‘gas pedal.’”
    â€œWhat does ‘fwuud’ mean?”
    â€œIt means the motor won’t start because . . . I don’t know why. Just do what I tell you and never mind the how-come.”
    It was then that the cat appeared. Descrip­tion: female calico, medium height and weight, longhair, pink nose, long white cat whiskers, and a pair of eyes that were something between greenish and yellowish.
    They called her Mary D Cat.
    She crawled out from under the house and came running toward us—yowling. Now, most of your ranch cats will yowl once in a while but not all the time. This one, once she started a yowl, she hung on to it and didn’t quit.
    It wasn’t a short and simple “meow.” It was more like “Meeeee-yowwwwwwwww.”
    Well, Drover and I were standing there beside the Cammo-Stealth, listening to Slim’s lecture. The cat came bounding over to us, and right away I noticed that she didn’t have much respect for a dog.
    I mean, most of your ranch cats will approach a dog with some caution. They should. Not only is that the proper and mannerly thing to do, but it is the smart thing to do.
    See, some dogs don’t need much of an excuse to thrash a cat. You might even say that we . . . uh, they . . . you might even say that they consider pounding cats part of their job. Or even a form of sport—a good, clean, wholesome sport that all the family can enjoy.
    And for that reason, your smart cats . . . or to put it another way, your cats who are less dumb than the dumber ones will NOT come bounding up to a dog they’ve never met before, because that is a really stupid thing to do and it can get a cat into deep trouble.
    But this one? Here she came, bounding straight toward us and yowling.
    â€œA crust of bread? Baloney, cheese?
    Spare a morsel, if you please.
    Marooned, I am, oh hateful place!
    At last I’ve found a friendly face!”
    Well, this was very strange. She came right up to me and began rubbing on my leg and yowling in my face. I guess you know how much I love being rubbed on by cats. I don’t. But there she was, all over me, just as though we were old friends, and we weren’t. Not yet and maybe never.
    â€œA crust of bread? Baloney, cheese? Spare a morsel, if you please.”
    I pushed her away. “Uh, Kitty, I think there’s been some . . . I don’t have any cheese. No cheese, no baloney, no bread, and would you please stop rubbing on me ! ”
    She went right on. “Marooned I am, oh hateful place!