The haunted hound; (11 page)

was running full speed instantly. Jonathan had never in his life seen anything start going that fast so quickly. One second it was standing there looking at him; the next it was pounding toward him, head high, the spread of horns reaching for him.

Jonathan, too, was running. His lifted foot drove down and he was running for his life.

He felt lonely enough to cry. Ahead of him was so much of the flat, green, peaceful pasture with the fence so far

away. There was nothing out there with him, no friend, no dog, nothing to help him.

And the bull.

Jonathan, running until his breath was dry and hot in his throat, turned his head until he could look back.

What he saw made him stumble and almost go down. The bull was coming so fast.' For an instant Jonathan thought, Why run? It was so useless. But he kept on running.

He could hear the way the bull's feet pounded down on the ground. It made a noise like faraway, steady thunder. And there was another noise, too—a loud, sharp snorting noise coming as regularly as the puffs of steam from a train.

The distance to the fence was forever. Jonathan, terror clammy on him, again looked back.

The bull was on him. Its head blotted out the whole sky for an instant, and then the bull brought his horns down to start the hook.

Jonathan saw the sharp point of the almost straight horn, and suddenly he felt his skin tightening and drawing away, dreading the driving touch of the horn point.

There was nothing he could do now.

He wondered what it was going to feel like. He wondered if a bull could drive one of those horns all the way through you? And he knew that it could, easily; drive it through you and lift you up and throw you away.

Then would it stamp on you? he wondered.

CHAPTER NINE

lonathan had heard foxhounds giving tongue on a race. Those times had been long ago; when he and his father and mother had hved at the Farm and had done a lot of fox hunting.

But Jonathan still remembered a little about the different kinds of barking, depending on what the hounds were doing. At first, before they were anywhere near the fox, they just kept up a sort of fretful, arguing, disappointed barking. Then, when they settled down, their voices got happy and went rolling over the country.

Finally, when they were up close to the fox and really stretched out, the sound they made changed entirely. It would send shivers up your back to hear them as their voices seemed to go down deeper in their chests, to roll more, to just fill up everything, . . .

As he ran across the pasture he waited for the first strike of the bull's horns. Behind him now, close, the bulFs snorting was loud; the pounding of his feet shook the ground Jonathan was running on.

Curiously, though, above it all Jonathan could hear—

even above the dry rasping of his own breath—the sound of a foxhound. He knew that he was so scared then that he wasn't thinking straight, or hearing right, but he kept on hearing a noise hke a foxhound.

And it wasn't the baying of a dog at the moon, nor the barking of a house dog at a stranger, nor the idle yapping of a feist dog with nothing else to do. This was the big sound, the right-on-top-of-the-fox sound.

It seemed to be getting closer and closer, the noise of it swelling until it was drowning out the snorting and pounding of the bull and drowning out even the throbbing of Jonathan's blood.

Waiting and waiting for the horn to strike him and yet not feeling it drive into him, he at last turned his head a little.

A dog was coming across the pasture. He was big and black-and-white. He was coming so hard that he looked stretched out and longer than he really was.

And he was making all the noise. From his big chest he was rolling it out.

The dog upset the bull. The bull didn't stop going for Jonathan, but he slowed down a little and kept swinging his head from side to side, looking.

Then Pot Likker was there. He went in for the bull's hind legs and bit at them, all the time roaring at the bull.

It saved Jonathan. The bull stopped running and began trying to hook the dog. Soon dog and bull were going around in a wild circle. Pot Likker darting in and snapping

at the bull's heels, the bull hooking at him with his long horns.

Jonathan stopped running and stood, fascinated.

And then, as in a slow-motion movie, he saw the bull get the dog. The horn swept in low, just o\'er the grass, and caught Pot Likker under the chest.

Jonathan yelled and instinctively started toward the bull.

Pot Likker didn't make a sound.

The bull threw up his head, and Jonathan saw Pot Likker slide down the horn a little way. Then, with a sharp twist of its neck, the bull threw him away.

The dog turned slowly over in the air and then began to \\Tithe, twisting and turning.

Pot Likker hit the ground with a crash which made Jonathan feel sick. And he didn't move; just lay there sprawled out on the grass.

The bull went for him, his head high, looking for him and thrashing his horns around.

Jonathan ran toward the bull yelling, ''Hey! Hey!'' He discovered then that he still had the rod case, and as the bull lowered his head to gore the dog, Jonathan walloped him across the rump with the rod case.

It was enough to distract the bull, and he wheeled around, looking for Jonathan.

Then everything happened at once. As the bull threw his head up to charge Jonathan again, Jonathan turned and started to run. He was going full tilt when he hit something and went down in a heap.

Something grabbed him and hfted him clean off the ground, and for a moment he thought the bull had him, then he saw fingers.

It was Mr. Worth. And around the bull were a dozen dogs, with Judy sicking them on the bull and driving him back toward the hickory trees.

Mr. Worth set Jonathan down on his feet. Mr. Worth still looked scared as he started to laugh. ''What you doing, hitting my bull, boy?'' he asked.

''I wish rd had a club instead of this,'' Jonathan said, holding out the dented rod case,

Judy came back and stared at him. ''What were you doing?" she asked.

"Me?" Jonathan said. "That bull was trying to kill me."

"He'd do it, too," Mr. Worth declared. "Ain't a meaner bull in the world than that Brahma. How'd you get tangled up with him?"

Jonathan said a little sheepishly, "I was taking a short cut to the pond. I didn't even see him until he walked out from under those trees."

"And all of a sudden he flung up his old tail and was on top of you," Mr. Worth said. "That old Galdy, he's a fast-moving critter."

"But what stopped him is what I want to know?" Judy asked, puzzled. "When we saw you, you were hitting him with that thing you've got."

"Pot Likker," Jonathan said. "He bit his heels and made him stop."

'Tot Likker!" Mr. Worth said. "Coiildn'tVe been him. He's been gone for days. Probably dead by now from snake-bite.^'

''No, he isn't/' Jonathan said. "Come on, I'll show you."

He led them over to where the bull had thrown Pot Likker. The grass \\'as flat where he had hit.

But Pot Likker wasn't there.

Jonathan squatted down and looked at the place. There wasn't any blood, just the grass beginning already to straighten up again. "I be doggone," he said, standing up and getting his bearings to be sure. "He landed right here. See? The bull got him up on his horn and threw him. It must have knocked the wind out of him because he didn't get up again. And there isn't any blood."

Mr. Worth and Judy looked at the place. "You sure it was Pot Likker?" Mr. Worth asked. "It could've been almost any other dog. Maybe you were a little excited and all."

"I was plenty excited," Jonathan admitted. "But I'm sure it was Pot Likker. I saw those two little patches of brown hair right over his eyes. And he was black-and-white and big. It had to be Pot Likker."

Mr. Worth shook his head. "Dangedest thing I ever heard of. Now, just supposing it was Pot Likker, how, for instance, did he know you were out here?"

"W^ell, I was calling Judy every now and then. I thought maybe she was fishing or something."

Mr. Worth nodded. ''Yep, he could've heard that all

right if he'd been close by. But why should he come when you call? He doesn't come for anyone else and he never came for you before/'

''I don't know," Jonathan said. ''All I know is, he came."

''And now he's gone again/' Judy said. "He's a funny dog."

Jonathan looked at her and laughed. "I like him. I'm crazy about him."

"Well you might be/' Mr. Worth said. "He saved you from a goring sure as shooting. Old Galdy is about as mean a bull as I ever heard of, and he'd have been real rough if that dog hadn't caught his attention."

Judy called the dogs and started back up the pasture. "Next time you get tangled up with a bull/' Judy said, "don't run. Drop down on the ground sort of slow and curl up as little as you can, then he can't see you—maybe. He might tromp you some, but he might not ever see you and gore you."

"There isn't going to be any next time," Jonathan said.

"Well, you can't count on that," Judy said.

Mr. Worth laughed. "You should've seen Judy taking her own advice one time, Jonathan. Old Galdy had broken out and Judy didn't know it and walked slap up to him before she saw him. Old Galdy heisted his head and his tail and was going full speed before Judy even knew he was in the same field with her. And did she drop down and curl up like a sensible person would? Shucks, no, not Judy. She stood right there, and when that bull lowered his head to

no

hook her, she leapfrogged him pretty as you please. She bounced onee halfway down him, leapfrogged again, and hit the ground doing one hundred and six miles an hour. Why, she beat that bull to a pine sapling by one snort. There wasn't a limb on that pine closer than twenty feet from the ground, but Judy went right up that clean trunk like she was in an elevator. And the next thing that bull knew was, she was sitting on that limb chunking him with pine cones. But you, Jonathan, next time Just squuch up on the ground.''

''How'd she get down?" Jonathan asked.

''I had to get a plowline and let her down."

''Shucks," Judy said. ''If you'd waited until after I got over being scared, I could have come down all right. But you wouldn't give me time to get over shaking."

Jonathan glanced at her. His own knees had been shaking for a minute or so and chills had been running up and down his spine. He knew it was silly because the danger was all over, but he couldn't help it.

"Isn't that the way it happens to you?" Judy asked him. "You get scared after whatever happens is through?"

Jonathan nodded. "My knees are shaking now."

"I wondered where that rattling noise was coming from," Mr. Worth said, laughing.

That cured Jonathan's shakes.

"How was the exam, Jonathan?" Judy asked him as they got to the fence and climbed over it.

"I turned things into dollars. I made a hundred."

''A what?'' Then she looked very pleased. ''So you passed?''

Jonathan nodded.

''Why, that calls for a celebration/' Mr. Worth said. "It calls for a real bang-up, down-the-river coon hunt. Don't you think so, Judy?"

"Oh, boy/" Judy said. "What are we waiting for?"

"I can't go before tomorrow," Mr. Worth said. "But we could sure start tomorrow. What's today—Tuesday? That'd bring us out at the ferry by Saturday, say. Then we wouldn't miss church."

"When?" Jonathan asked.

"About Saturday. It's only twenty or thirty miles."

Jonathan could feel sadness all inside. Slowly he shook his head. "I couldn't stay away that long. My father would find out."

"Find out what?" Mr. Worth asked. "Shucks, boy, I'll go call him up right now and tell him you've got to go along. You made a hundred, didn't you?"

"Wait. Wait," Jonathan said. He wondered how he could explain to them about his father and the way he felt about the Farm. Then he decided that there wasn't any way to do it. "I just can't go," he said slowly.

Judy's shoulders slumped and the shine went out of her eyes. "We would've had some fun," she said.

Mr. Worth was disappointed, too. "Well, if you can't, you can't. But I've been feeling the need of a little hunt for some time, so let's me and you go anyway, Judy."

''All right/' Judy said, but without much enthusiasm.

'We'll start tomorrow. We'll take old Slewfoot and Strive and maybe a puppy or so."

She nodded. Then she looked at Jonathan. ''Isn't there any way you could come, too?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No."

At the house, Judy got her rod and reel and for an hour or so they practiced casting.

Finally it was time for Jonathan to go home. He had forgotten to ask when a bus was going to town and Mr. Worth told him there wouldn't be another one for a long time.

Then the pickup truck wouldn't start. Mr. Worth fussed about it, and they all looked for the crank but couldn't find it.

At last Jonathan thought of Mr. Duncan. "When does the freight train go by?"

"Six o'clock, more or less," Judy said.

"I know the engineer. Maybe he'll give me a ride."

"Do you? Really?" Judy asked. "You ever been in the engine?"

"No, but I've been in the caboose."

Judy walked along with him to the railroad tracks. Soon they could hear the train pulling up the long hill.

"I bet you don't know the engineer any better than I do," Judy declared as the train came in sight.

"How well do you know him?" Jonathan asked.

"Not at all."

Jonathan began to trot along, Judy beside him. Mr. Duncan leaned out the cab window. ''Hi, Jonathan/' he called.

''Hi. Can I ride back with you?"

"Sure. Hop on behind."

"I be doggone/' Judy said. "You do know him, don't you?

"I said I did. Good-by."

Jonathan grabbed the handrail of the caboose and let the train's motion swing him up the steps.

Judy slowly stopped trotting. She waved, and he waved back to her.

"How do, Jonathan?" Dollar Bill said. "Breaking the law again, eh?"

"Looks like it," Jonathan said, grinning. "You going to put me in jail?"

"Not me. I don't like 'em. Too confining."

Jonathan laughed and sat down. "Did you see that little girl with me?"

"Yeah."

"She and her uncle are going coon hunting tomorrow. For three days. They wanted me to go along, too, but I cant.

"Three days? Where'll they sleep? What'll they eat?"

"I don't know," Jonathan admitted, not having even thought about it. "But I really wish I could go with them."

"What'd they do with a coon if they caught it?"

Jonathan hadn't thought about that cither. "I don't know. Are they good to eat?"

''Search me/' Dollar Bill said. "I never heard of anybody eating a coon."

''I don't believe I ever even saw one."

''Oh, I've seen 'em. They're about the size of a smallish dog. They tell me a coon'll bite your hand off if he gets a chance."

"I guess Judy knows how to handle them."

"That that little girl's name?"

"Yeah, Judy Shelley. She's about the smartest person I ever met. She knows all about hunting and dogs and horses and everything." Jonathan paused. "I wonder where they will sleep?" he asked.

"On the ground, I guess. I tell you, Jonathan, they can have that for all I care."

But to Jonathan it sounded wonderful.

After the train stopped in the freight yard Mr. Duncan gave Jonathan a lift uptown in his car. Then, when he was alone, walking along the lighted streets jammed with cars of people going home after working in an office all day, Jonathan felt sad. He thought of the openness of everything out at the Farm, and the quietness. No horns blowing and motors growling, no people shoving each other.

And when he got to the apartment house and went in he hated the faint smell of antiseptic that always hung in the air.

1^^^^

CHAPTER TEN

here was no sign of Mrs. Johnson, but Mamie was in the kitchen. ''Hi, Jonathan."

''Hi. Don't we ever eat around here?" "You don't never stop. What you want?" "Anything. You ever been chased by a bull, Mamie?" "Who, me? As long as bulls leave me alone, I leave bulls alone. I just don't like those Jong horns they got." Jonathan told her about the bull while he ate. When he finished, Mamie said, "You should have cut that animal up and brought him home. I'd like to gnaw on a real old-timey country steak. This city stuff is so tenderized and pasteurized and mogenized it ain't got no meat taste left in it. Next time you go out there, get us a steak, Jonathan. A good-sized slab of it, hear?" Mamie was getting enthusiastic. "You could slip back out there tomorrow because your dad won't be here." "Where's he gone?"

"New York. He told you last week he was going." "I was flunking in school last week, so I don't remember

I

anything that happened. How long's he going to be gone?''

''Coming back before supper on Sunday/'

Jonathan jumped straight up out of the chair and got to the door in one leap. ''Where you going?" Mamie called.

"Coon hunting," Jonathan said, banking around the library table and braking to a stop in his father's den. He grabbed the phone book and turned to the Millersville section. He was going through the W's when Mamie came to the door.

"What you up to?" she demanded.

But Jonathan had found Mr. Worth's number and was calling it.

Nobody answered. "Still outdoors, I guess. Til call back later."

He and Mamie went back to the kitchen. "Look, Mamie," he said, "Mr. Worth and Judy are going coon hunting tomorrow. They'll be back by Saturday. And I want to go with them. Wouldn't it be all right?"

She thought a minute. "I guess so, Jonathan."

Then he remembered. "Oh, shucks! What about Mrs. Johnson?"

Mamie thought again, longer. Then she began to smile. "You just forget all about that. Wouldn't do for you to tell her a bunch of fibs, Jonathan. You leave all that to me. All you got to do is get out of here early in the morning. Before she wakes up. I'll take care of the rest. You just be sure you get back here Saturday, you hear?" bure.

"And bring me one of them coons, Jonathan. Til cook that rascal so sweet. Bring me a nice, fat young one—not one of them old tough swamp coons/'

''Are they good to eat, Mamie?*'

'They the best!''

"What should I take to hunt coons?"

"Wear you some old rough clothes and take a big sack along to bring me back that coon, that's all. And watch out for 'em. They'll bite you and claw you something fierce. They got teeth sharp as a Saturday-night razor."

Jonathan ran back to call up Judy again. Still no one answered.

He called the number all evening, and no one ever did answer. Worried for fear they would leave before he could get there, Jonathan at last went to bed.

By five o'clock the next morning he was ready to go, but there wasn't a bus leaving for Millersville until nine, so there was nothing for him to do but pace up and down in the bus station or wander around and around the block.

When he at last got to the Farm, he ran all the way to Mr. Worth's house.

They had already left.

"About an hour or so ago," Mrs. Worth told him. "They didn't think you were coming, Jonathan."

"I tried to call up last night, but the phone didn't answer."

"That husband of mine," Mrs. Worth said. "As soon as it's time for him to go to bed he puts a pillow on the phone

so it won't bother him during the night. We're on a party hne and it does do a lot of ringing/'

Jonathan had never been so disappointed in his hfe. *'Well/' he said, "I might as well go on back home then/'

''Why don't you catch up with 'em, if you want to go? They couldn't have gone far because both of them will be dawdling along, peering at everything and just taking it easy.

''You think I could?" Jonathan asked, the excitement running in him.

"Bound to before nightfall/' she declared. "They'll be by the water's edge then."

Jonathan started to leave right then, but remembered that he didn't even know where to go.

"They headed down the river," Mrs. Worth told him.

Jonathan started off again, then came back. "You don't think anything will—bother me, going by myself, do you?"

"No. Just watch for snakes as you go along. Rattlers and cottonmouths."

"What should I do if I see one of them?"

"Go around—real wide."

Jonathan suddenly had an idea. "Do you suppose, Mrs. Worth, that }0u could, maybe, lend me some kind of dog to go along with me? I mean, just some kind of dog you haven't got any use for or anything?"

Mrs. Worth shook her head sadly. "Jonathan, Dan and Judy have got these dogs trained so they won't go with anybody but them. You couldn't get one of these dogs out of

the yard without a rope around his neck. The only dog I ever saw that they couldn't train was Pot Likker—but even if he was here, he wouldn't go with you."

'Well/' Jonathan said slowly, ''I guess Til just go on by myself.''

She patted him on the shoulder. ''Nothing's going to bother you, Jonathan. If you don't catch up with them in a few hours, come on back."

"All right." Jonathan got his fishing tackle from where he'd left it. "Good-by," he said.

" 'By. Holler every now and then so they'll hear you."

He nodded.

As he went through the yard and down past the stables the dogs went along with him, old Mister Blue beside him and others running around or smelling him. Jonathan badly wanted a dog to go along with him, so, when he was out of sight of the house, he began working on Mister Blue.

He talked to him and rubbed his ears, then walked a few paces and called to him. Mister Blue seemed perfectly willing to come along.

By the time he got past the pasture where the bull was still standing under the hickory trees, there were only two or three dogs still with him, but Mister Blue trotted along beside him, and Jonathan began to feel a great deal better. It would be lonesome down by the river, he thought, and having Mister Blue with him would make everything all right.

They came out of the woods beside the river at the sand

bar. It hadn't changed much, he thought, since the old days when he had had birthday picnics here. There was the big bend in the river with the sand bar on the inside. The sand was ghstening white in the sun and the river was low and clear.

Jonathan stopped for a moment, looking at the tracks in the sand. There were many dog tracks but, among them, he could see where Mr. Worth and Judy had turned and gone down the river.

Acting as though he was just out for a little stroll, Jonathan said, ''Come on, Mister Blue." Then he started walking.