The Case of the Fiddle Playing Fox by John R. Erickson Page B

up for something to do.”
    â€œIn that case, I think you’d better scram. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a smart-aleck rooster first thing in the morning.”
    â€œIf you ask me, sleeping late is more dangerous than . . .”
    â€œBEAT IT!” I barked in his face. He squawked, flapped his wings, and went scurrying up the hill.
    â€œOkay for you, mister,” J.T. yelled over his wing, “and just for that, I ain’t going to tell you about the Mysterious Fiddle Music in the Night!”
    â€œThat’s fine with me, Featherbed, because . . .”
    HUH? Fiddle . . . in the . . . ?
    And so the mystery began, with a careless statement by J. T. Cluck, the Head Rooster. At the time, I had no idea that it would lead me into new adventures and dangerous encounters with one of the slickest, smoothest, fiendishest crinimal characters I had ever encountered.
    If I had known it, I don’t know what I would have done, but chances are that I would have done something, because even doing nothing is something.
    Not much, but still something.

Chapter Two: Little Alfred’s School of Cat Roping

    I looked at Drover. “What did he just say?”
    The question caught him in the middle of a yawn. “What? Who?”
    â€œThat rooster. He just said something over his shoulder.”
    â€œI didn’t know chickens had shoulders.”
    â€œOver his wing!”
    â€œOh. Yeah, I think he did say something—about a gigantic fiddleback spider in the night.”
    â€œHmmm. That’s funny.” Suddenly Drover began laughing. I stared at him. “What’s so funny?”
    â€œI don’t know, but you said it was funny and all at once I thought it was funny, too, and I guess . . . well, I couldn’t help laughing.”
    I narrowed my eyes and studied the wasteland of his face. “Are you trying to make a mockery of my investigation?”
    â€œNo, I just . . . couldn’t help . . . laughing . . . is all.”
    â€œWell, this is no laughing matter, so wipe that stupid grin off your face.” He wiped it off.
    â€œThat’s better. Now, let’s start all over again. What did J. T. Cluck say? It was something about a fiddle.”
    Drover rolled his eyes and chewed his lip. “Fiddle. Fiddle? Fiddle. I’ll be derned, I just drew a blank.”
    â€œYou drew a blank the day you were born, Drover, and it settled between your ears. Concen­trate and try to remember. Fiddle.”
    â€œFiddle. Oh yeah. He said he woke up in the night and saw a gigantic fiddleback spider crawling into the chicken house. I think that’s what he said.”
    â€œThat’s NOT what he said.”
    â€œI didn’t think it was.”
    â€œHe said he heard Mysterious Fiddle Music in the Night.”
    â€œOh yeah, and the spider was playing the fiddle behind his back.”
    â€œHe said nothing about a spider.”
    â€œI didn’t think he did.”
    â€œSo we can forget about the spiders.”
    â€œOh good.”
    â€œBut we can’t forget about the Mysterious Music.”
    â€œNo, it kind of gets in your head.”
    â€œWhich means that we have an unconfounded report from an unreliable source about Mysterious Fiddle Music in the Night. Hence, the next question is, do we dismiss it as hearsay and gossip, or do we follow it up with a thorough investigation?”
    â€œThat’s a tough one.”
    â€œAnd the answer to that question, Drover, is very simple.”
    â€œThat’s what I meant.”
    â€œWe follow it up with a complete and thorough investigation, because to do otherwise would be a dare election of duty.”
    â€œI’ll vote for that.”
    I began pacing. As I might have noted before in another context, my mind seems to work better when I pace.
    â€œQuestion, Drover. Do you know anything about this so-called Mysterious Fiddle Music in the Night?”
    He flopped down and