CHAPTER 6 ENEMIES?
Narnia lived and so did one spunky little baby. We called him Billy the Kid and had a lot of fun out of him. He buck danced around, over, and on top of everything!
"Dad, how about if we build a tree stand like a deer hunter does and take turns staying up there all night? We could have a pile of rocks and cream anything that comes on our place. Please let us, Dad. Please let us give it a try," begged Rooster.
Probably the World Government was right in I taking away everybody's guns, but didn't some people actually need them? How is a policeman going to come and help you hunt wolves in the middle of the night? But then, how could we call them?
Dad listened quietly and weighed Rooster's idea. He knew, and we knew, that Rooster was the best shot in the family. It frustrated me that my younger brother could always hit the bull’s-eye when we were practicing with rocks or homemade arrows.
"Do you think you boys could build it? How would you get the boards up there?"
JohnB burst in, "But, Dad, don't you remember how we got that huge birdhouse up on that slippery pole for you for your birthday? Of course, my chest hurt for a couple of months afterward, but you are looking at the man who can do it, and we have plenty of short boards lying around here."
Dad seemed convinced and gave a go-ahead nod, which sent us all out in the yard to yell and argue and try to use the hammer at the same time.
We did get a contraption nailed together by dark. Everyone wanted to be the first to sleep up there. I don't know why. One false move, and ....
We decided to draw straws and the shortest boy got the shortest piece. Sol was envied and given a lot of advice. I worried about him because he's the one who had dreams about flying off the roof, and sometimes we had to grab him and shake him into reality. But, nobody asked my opinion.
He took his sleeping bag and a few snacks while we all helped gather up a good supply of rocks. Narnia was tied to the tree under him, all innocent of her role in this affair. She was happy to have her little son jumping all around her. No rope was going to tie him down.
After a few bedtime stories, Dad started in on the history of Europe, which didn't put any of us to sleep. Then he tried us out on conjugating Latin verbs. That did it.
In the night, we heard the Encounter. Sol was yelling his head off while Narnia was bleating in a panic. Some sort of beasts were growling, until one let out an earsplitting howl of pain.
We all raced to the scene. Sol had dropped the flashlight; and, when we found it, we discovered a starved Collie-type dog knocked cuckoo right at our feet. It was bleeding on the head. His companions were headed up the mountain, yelping as they went. Sol shinnied down the tree in his underwear and threw his arms around the old mutt's neck.
"Dog, Dog, I’m so sorry I hit you. I promise I’ll never hit you again. Oh, please open your eyes and tell me it's all right. You are a beautiful, wonderful dog. Oh, please don't die," walled Sol.
We looked from one to another, eyebrows raised, snickers stifled. It looked pretty obvious that we had gotten the wrong man for this job. What in the world were we going to do with the dog if it lived? In a few minutes it opened its eyes and started licking Sol's face.
"Oh, Dad," begged Sol. "Look at this poor dog. It’s probably a very good dog if it had food. Oh, Dad, please let me keep him for my very own. I promise I’ll take care of him. Can I, Dad? Please, can I?"
I was glad that I wasn't a father yet, because I could see that common sense was not what Dads need most. On the other hand, I have heard that dogs are a necessity for farmers and pioneers. Maybe we fell in that category. Did we need protection?
A few weeks later Sol had gotten that dog as tame as a baby rabbit. It followed him everywhere. We found it had one quirk it had picked up in its mysterious past. If we played cops and robbers and stuck out our pointer finger like a gun, it came flying through the trees and attacked us on the wrist. We were amazed by this, and thought that it must have been a movie stunt dog.
One night while we were sitting around our tire, the dog, lovingly named Prince Caspian, went racing down the hill, his fur spiked up along his backbone. In a couple of minutes we heard men's angry, loud voices and the sound of something rolling down the mountain.
Dad grabbed the dog rope and the flashlight, while we all hurtled along behind him. When we got there, Caspian was standing in one spot, guarding something at his feet. When Dad got near enough, he jumped back in surprise. There on the ground under Caspian's dripping jaw was a black heavy-duty pistol. We waved the light around in every direction but saw no one. Did we have enemies?
The kiss of a dog
Is a kiss of death
Its slimy old tongue,
Will take away your breath.
by JG