with you tonight.”
“Sandy and I can handle it,” said the driller. “We’ll take the jeep. If we get in a jam we’ll send up a rocket or something.”
On the slow, twenty-mile drive to Elbow Rock, Ralph spun old tales about Ute scouting expeditions and buffalo hunts, but Sandy scarcely listened. He was feeling miserable, and wished for the first time that he was back home in Valley View.
“You don’t like what we’re doing, do you?” Ralph said at last.
“Well, gee. Eavesdropping seems sort of sneaking.”
“I know it does, but don’t forget that we’re dealing with a sneak. Tell you what: you stay in the car. I’ll take the ear in.”
“No,” Sandy said firmly. “I’ll do anything I can to help Mr. Hall. Besides, I helped build the ear and know just how it works. I’ll carry it.”
They parked as close to Cavanaugh’s brightly lighted trailer as they dared. Then Sandy strapped the detector on his chest and walked slowly up the mountain in darkness so intense and silent that it could almost be felt. Remembering the lay of the land from the time that he and Quiz had visited the spot with Pepper, he managed to stay mostly on the trail.
He was still several hundred yards from the trailer when the night exploded in a blare of savage noise. Several large dogs had started baying furiously near the trailer. A door opened. Cavanaugh shouted angrily at a pack of long-legged animals that leaped and whined in the shaft of light.
When quiet had been restored, Sandy inched forward once more. But it was no use. The chorus of barks rose louder than before and several of the dogs started in his direction. With mixed emotions of annoyance and relief, he returned to the jeep and reported.
“Dogs!” Ralph growled. “That means Cavanaugh really has something to hide. What did they look like?”
“They had long legs, sharp noses and big white teeth.”
“Doberman pinschers, I’ll bet. Say! Tim Robbins breeds Dobermans over in Bluff. They make better sheep tenders than shepherds, he claims. Let’s pay him a visit, even if it is late.” He started the jeep.
“What are you planning to do?” Sandy asked sharply.
“If Utes could behave like buffalo, there’s no reason why I can’t be a dog,” Ralph answered.
“But you don’t have a dog skin,” Sandy objected.
“I’m going to get one.”
Old man Robbins was in bed when they arrived at his home on the outskirts of the little mining town. He came downstairs in his nightshirt when he recognized Ralph’s voice, made coffee for his visitors, and listened to their request without surprise.
“Why, sure, I’ve got a few skins,” he said. “Here’s one that belonged to poor Maisie. She died of distemper last year. I was going to upholster a chair with her, but you can have her for a dollar.”
“Mind if I take a look around your runways and kennels, Dad?” Ralph asked.
“Go ahead, but don’t get yourself bit, young feller.” The old man shook his head at the strange ways of all Indians.
Five minutes later they were headed back toward Elbow Rock.
“Phooey!” said Sandy. “You smell like dog, all right.”
“I rolled around a bit in the kennels.” Ralph’s grin was just visible in the light from the dash bulb. “Now I’ve got to start thinking like a dog. Don’t bother me, human!”
When they arrived at their destination the driller took a brief lesson in the operation of the ear, slipped its harness over his shoulders, and draped Maisie’s hide around his hips.
“Keep your fingers crossed and say a prayer to the water spirits,” he whispered just before he faded into the velvety darkness.
For long moments Sandy held his breath, expecting a renewal of that wild barking. But it didn’t come. High on the Elbow Rock the aluminum trailer glowed undisturbed in the soft light pouring from its picture windows.
A trout, leaping in the stream nearby, caused the boy to start violently. He tried to relax but that only made him listen harder. Once he thought he heard a strain of music coming from the trailer. Hours later, it seemed, an owl’s hoot made his hair stir on his scalp. He smoothed down his cowlick and then gripped the wheel of the car with both hands to stop their trembling. What if Dobermans didn’t always bark before they attacked? What if Ralph was up there…
“I’m back.”
Sandy almost yelled with relief as his friend materialized out of nowhere and climbed nonchalantly into the car. “Wha…what happened?” gasped the boy, gripping the Indian’s arm to see if he really was real. “You fooled the dogs?”
“Nothing happened. And your little friends never batted an eyelash. I’m good, I guess.” He removed the skin and tossed it into the rear of the jeep.
“What do you mean, nothing happened? Didn’t the ear work?”
“It worked perfectly.” He started the motor and jammed the car into gear.
“What did you hear?”
“Music,” said the Ute disgustedly. “Highbrow music. Bach and stuff.”
“Was it code of some kind?”
“Nah!” Ralph spat into the night. “Your friend Pepper would say, ‘Come in, Gallup. I’ve got something here that you’d like: the umpteenth symphony by so-and-so.’ Then he’d play a record and say, ‘How did that sound, Gallup?’ And Gallup would answer, ‘Clear as a bell, kid. Keep it up.’ Or Window Rock trailer would come in, ask for a Belafonte number, and then say it was fuzzy and to sharpen up the beam. Craziest performance I ever heard.”
“Maybe they’re just lonesome, way up here,” Sandy said with great relief.
“Maybe. But it’s a mighty expensive way to be lonesome.”
“Or they could be testing,” the boy went on with less assurance.
“That sounds more like it.”
“Or they’re killing time while they wait for a message of some kind?”
“Now you’re cooking with LP gas. The question remains: where is that message going to come from? I don’t like this business, Sandy. It gets screwier. I wish we could monitor his station every night, but that’s impossible, of course. Well, at least we know our ear works and that Cavanaugh keeps a kennel. I wonder what John and Don will make of this one.”
“When will Mr. Hall be back?” Sandy was glad for a chance to change the subject.
“Next week, I think. Keep this under your hat, but he has got his loan, and has flown down to Houston to put some more rigs under contract. Also, I wangled a portable drill rig when I was in Farmington today. That means we’ll soon be heading for the other lease to run some surveys. And that’s a job that separates the men from
