Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest by John R. Erickson Page B

name was Sinister the Bobcat. He was a cold-blooded professional killer with a rap sheet as long as your leg, and I had definitely made a big mistake.
    â€œDrover, I don’t want to alarm you, but at this moment I am trapped in the feed barn with a gigantic bobcat.”
    â€œOh my gosh! Then J.T. was right about the tracks!”
    â€œI wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but the point is that our main column is surrounded. It’s time to bring up the reserves.” I heard the swish of something moving through the air at a high rate of speed, then silence. “Drover? Drover!”
    The runt had abandoned me. Sinister took a step in my direction, his long white teeth glowing in the darkness.
    â€œHi there, you’re Sinister the Bobcat, I believe. We haven’t met, but I . . . you probably won’t believe this, but I came in here looking for a cousin of yours, Pete the . . . yes sir, old Pete and I have been friends for . . . obviously you’re not Pete and I probably ought to be . . .”
    He took another step towards me, and I could tell at a glance that he didn’t want to talk about his kinfolks.
    â€œNow Sinister, I’ve always figgered that there’s a middle ground between surrender and annihilation, and if you’d care to discuss . . . ”
    Sinister wasn’t a talker. I knew that the in­stant he knocked me back up into the rafters. Coming down, I tried to latch onto one of the ceiling joists but couldn’t quite hang on. I headed for the floor again, but never reached it because Sinister caught me under the chin with a roundhouse right that sent me flying south again, only this one knocked me through the window, thank goodness.
    There was an explosion of glass and I woke up, draped over one of the lower branches of an elm tree. I climbed out of the tree and tested my wobbly legs. I still had all four of ’em.
    I glanced through the busted window and saw Sinister inside the feed barn, turning over bales of hay and looking for mice. He didn’t even look tired, which kind of annoyed me.
    â€œSinister, you got lucky this time, but next time . . .”
    He made a move in my direction and I sold out, didn’t slow down until I limped up to the gas tanks. I found Drover hiding beneath his gunnysack bed.
    â€œDrover, you’ll be interested in knowing that, even without your help, I just suffered an incredible beating.”
    He stuck his nose out the west side. “Well, I didn’t think it would help for both of us to get beat up.”
    â€œThat’s very noble of you, son, and I promise I won’t forget this.”
    â€œThanks, Hank.”
    â€œAnd the next time you need someone to come to your rescue, call a cat.”
    I flopped down on my gunnysack. Everything hurt, especially my pride. For a dog, there is nothing to compare with the humilification of being pounded by a sniveling cat—even a big sniveling cat.
    I cancelled night patrol and went to sleep.

Chapter Two: The Giant Baldheaded Lizard

    I awoke the next morning at the crack of noon. What woke me was the sound of a car coming down the road towards the house.
    I leaped to my feet and . . . oh mercy! . . . was suddenly reminded that only hours before I had been mauled by a bobcat. I limped and hobbled out to challenge the trespassers and . . . oh, it was Loper and Sally May, back from their trip to Hospital, wherever that was.
    When I realized that we had a friendly car coming onto the ranch, I shifted out of Serious Barking Mode and limped out to greet them.
    Loper got out and rubbed me on the head. “You’ve got ticks,” he said, and went around to the other side of the car.
    He opened the door and helped Sally May out. She was carrying something in her arms, something wrapped up in a pink blanket.
    Drover had joined me by then and he saw it too.