The Sandy Steele Mystery MEGAPACK®: 6 Young Adult Novels (Complete Series). Roger Barlow
shiver in their restless sleep. The cold night wind seeped under the bottom of the trailer and set his teeth to chattering uncontrollably. Now he knew what the phrase “a dog’s life” really meant.
“Elbow Rock calling Window Rock.” The phones clattered into life. “Over.”
“I read you loud and clear, Elbow Rock,”
Cavanaugh’s voice replied. “What is the message from Gallup?”
“You want it coded, like it was relayed from Washington, or straight?” the distant voice inquired.
“Straight, you fool. Nobody listens in on a light beam.”
“You never know,” said the man at Elbow Rock. “Well, here’s your message, as well as I can dope it out. It’s from your ‘keyhole man,’ Mr.—”
“Never mind his name,” Cavanaugh snapped. “Just give me the message.”
“O.K.! O.K.! Take it easy, will you, boss? Here ’tis: Quote: Have picked up leak from strictly official source. Next month U.S. government starts buying uranium ore from all comers again. Expanding space ship and power reactor program has increased demand for atomic fuels to such an extent that existing mills no longer can supply it—Are you reading me all right, boss?”
“Clear as a bell,” Cavanaugh crooned. “This is wonderful. Go on. Go on.”
“Here’s the rest of it: Quote: Announcement of policy change withheld until middle of next month so it won’t upset bids to be opened tomorrow at Window Rock and similar places. Happy hunting. Unquote. Over.”
“Whoopee!” Cavanaugh yelled the word into the microphone so loudly that Sandy’s earphones rattled. “Boy! This came through just in time. Otherwise, I’d have had to cancel all of those high bids I made today or go bankrupt tomorrow. Now I’ll be in clover with most of the good leases sewed up at rock-bottom prices before the boom starts. Thank you, Elbow Rock. There’s a bonus for you in this. Over and out.”
“Roger!” came the delighted answer.
“Did you hear all of that, Pepper?” Cavanaugh asked.
“Was I supposed to, Mister Cavanaugh…sir?” Pepper answered off-mike. His voice was bitter.
“Oh, don’t be sore, boy.” Cavanaugh roared with laughter. “If you’d taken the beating I took tonight from Hall’s gang of toughs, you’d have been grouchy, too. And no more of that ‘Mister Cavanaugh’ stuff. Just call me ‘Red.’ We’re pals.”
“Are we?”
“Sure we are. We’ll both get rich out of this. And even better, we’ll do the Indian Agency and the whole Navajo nation in the eye. If they accept my bids—and they’ll have to, because they’re higher than those of anyone else—we’ll get those leases for a half, or even a third, of what’d they’d sell for next month when the policy change is announced.”
In his hiding place under the trailer floor, Sandy was boiling with fury. Momentarily he had forgotten all about being a dog. The Dobermans sensed the difference instantly. Perhaps they caught a subtle change in his body odor. His anger was making him perspire despite the cold.
The lead dog barked sharply and scrambled to its feet. The others followed suit. Sandy tried to croon reassurance to them, but failed. They were becoming thoroughly aroused and making an awful racket. He had to get out of there—and quickly—before Cavanaugh came to investigate.
He scrambled from under the trailer and sprinted for the jeep. The dogs broke into full cry-now, and streaked after him. This was a human! And an enemy human too! They were out to make him pay dearly for his deceit.
The trailer door banged open as the bedlam rose. Moments later, a spotlight picked up the running boy and the dogs that leaped and snapped at his bare heels.
“Stop, thief!” Cavanaugh yelled. “Stop or I’ll fire!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Showdown
At that moment, Sandy tripped over a branch, flung up his arms as he fell headlong. The rifle bullet meant for his head merely creased him instead, from shoulder to elbow.
He scrambled behind a large rock, managed to get to his feet, and faced the gleaming eyes of the oncoming dogs. Something that Quiz once had read to him out of a sports magazine flashed through his mind: “If attacked by vicious dogs, hold out some object, such as your hat, at waist height. They will hesitate while they decide whether to leap over it or under it, thus giving you an advantage.”
His left arm was numb from the shock of the bullet, but he managed to use it to rip the dog skin from around his waist and hold it forward. As the dogs whined and tried to make up their minds as to the best method of attack, he tore the board on which the “ear” was mounted from his chest with his good hand. Thank heaven, one end of the plank had been whittled down into a sort of handle, for easier carrying.
Then he charged, swinging the improvised club like a demon.
Luckily, his first blow landed squarely on the snout of a leaping dog!
Sparks flashed. Pieces of equipment flew in all directions. The animal howled and rolled on the ground, holding its nose with both paws. Its companions backed away.
Sandy followed up his advantage. He struck again and again. The dogs fled, howling, to a safe distance.
To the right of him, the boy now heard the pounding of human feet. Cavanaugh had abandoned a frontal attack for the moment and was sprinting to cut him off from the road leading back to the village.
“Don’t kill him, Red,” Pepper was shouting. “It would be murder.”
“Nobody’s going to kill anybody—yet,” Cavanaugh yelled as he ran. “But we can’t let him get away, after what he may have heard. Rig another floodlight. Then come over here and help me.”
Forgetful of the thorns that tore his skin and the rocks that cut his knees, Sandy wriggled, Indian fashion, into a darker spot. In his bare feet, he had no chance of reaching the road ahead of Cavanaugh, or even of staying out of his way. Keeping a wary eye on the dogs that still followed, whining with uncertainty, he ripped Maisie’s hide into pieces and bound them under his feet. There. That would be better!
He made a feint for the road now—and ducked as another bullet whispered overhead and smacked into a nearby tree.
He was in a real spot! If he tried to cross the bare top of the natural bridge that arched over the hole in Window Rock, he would make an ideal target, silhouetted against the moon. (Thank all the little Navajo gods and demons that Cavanaugh’s right eye must be swollen shut from the beating Ralph had given him. He was in no condition to shoot accurately even if he disregarded Pepper’s warning.)
Sandy decided that his best strategy lay in hiding among the mesquite and sagebrush thickets under the pine trees that covered the side of the rock nearest the village. Kitty must have heard the racket. Perhaps she would understand what was happening and head for town to get help.
A whoop of delight, followed by several quick shots, made his heart sink.
“That jeep will never move again,” he heard Cavanaugh yell. The next words made him feel much better. “Come on out of the woods, driver, and give yourself up. I’ve got you cut off from the road.”
Sandy dithered in his hiding place. He was feeling decidedly queer all of a sudden. The fact that his left hand felt wet and slippery brought him up short. He was bleeding steadily from that wound in his shoulder. He tried dabbing sand on the crease, but it didn’t stop the flow. Another fifteen or twenty minutes and he would be so weak that he would fall easy prey to his pursuers.
“Bring flashlights out here,” Cavanaugh was shouting to Pepper now. “We’ll beat the woods for the driver first.”
Sandy bit his cold lips. Time was running out. He had to act, and act fast, before he keeled