Chapter Twelve: All Is Lost!

Well, I had made a successful evacuation of the women and children, and now it was time to . . .

Yipes! Suddenly, the roar of the fire filled my ears. The blaze had reached the fireguard, and sparks and firebrands were raining down on the roof of the house, in the yard, everywhere! Loper grabbed the water hose and sprayed the fires on the roof, while Slim and the others beat out fires in the yard with shovels and wet gunnysacks.

So far, so good. Every eye turned back to the north, watching to see if the fireguard would do its job. For a minute or two, it appeared that it would, but then the wind rose to a screaming gale and . . .

HERE IT CAME!

Like an enormous jungle cat, the thing leaped into the air and landed on the other side of the fireguard. Smoke, flames, sparks, and chunks of burning grass filled the sky. All at once the air was as hot as an oven. The wooden shingles on the roof burst into flame. The shrubs next to the house caught fire. Men yelled and gasped for air, while I . . . well, ran around in circles, barking, because, frankly, I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Then, over the noise and confusion, Loper’s voice rang out. “We’ve lost it, boys! Run for the creek! Run for your lives!”

Well, that sure made sense to me. I mean, I had already figured out that running in circles wasn’t getting us anywhere, so I pushed the throttle down to Turbo Six, and . . .

WHAM!

We’ve come to the sad part of the story, so grab onto something steady. In all the madness and confusion, I had somehow failed to notice . . . well, a tree, a big tree, a very large and immovable tree in the blackness of the inky darkness of the night. And in my haste to evacuate our hopeless situation, I bashed into it with a full head of steam.

I don’t want to scare the children, but I have to report the facts. While the other guys on the fire team dropped their shovels and ran for their lives, the Head of Ranch Security was involved in a serious accident. And as the roar of the fire drew closer and closer, he lay wounded and unconscious . . . right in the path of the firestorm.

And, well, I guess that’s about it. With me knocked out and the fire running wild toward the house, there isn’t much hope for a happy ending, is there? I’ve always preferred happy endings to the other kind, but we don’t always control the way things turn out, do we?

No. See, I’m trying to prepare you for the worst . . . but wait. There’s one little detail we haven’t discussed, and I’m sure it’s one you never ever would have considered.

You remember that blast of cold wind that brought the fire back to life? Well, it came from a line of thunderclouds that were moving in from the northwest. Where there’s lightning, there’s thunder; where there’s thunder, there’s a thunderhead cloud; and where there’s a thunderhead cloud, there could be . . . RAIN.

Fellers, it rained, and we’re talking about the sky opening up and raining down snakes and weasels. Hard rain, drenching rain, fire-killing rain.

I don’t know how long I lay there, knocked cuckoo, but the next thing I knew, I was lying in a puddle of water. Rain was falling in my face and a strange dog with a stub tail was standing over me. Blinking my eyes against the vapors inside my head, I looked closer and recognized . . . Drover.

He said, “Oh, good. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead, but it was pretty close. I got run over by a tree.”

“I’ll be derned. I didn’t know trees could run.”

“This one did. What’s going on around here?”

“Well, let me think. I heard you barking at the fire and then it started raining and the fire went out.”

“What!” I sat up and glanced around. It was pouring rain! And the air was filled with the smell of stale smoke, and yes, the fire was deader than a hammer! “Yes? Go on.”

“I just wondered if you barked up the rain.”

“Help me up, Drover.” He helped me up to a standing position and I wobbled around on two pairs of shaky legs. “I’m shocked that you even needed to ask. I mean, the evidence is all here, isn’t it?”

“Well, I wondered. Tell me the whole story. I can hardly wait.”

“Let’s see if I can remember it all. Okay, Loper and his crew did their best, but the fire rolled over them and, well, I hate to point this out, but you saw what they did. They ran for their lives.”

“Yeah, and you stayed behind. Boy, what a hero!”

My legs had recovered enough so that I was able to begin pacing, as I often do when I’m trying to discuss difficult concepts. “Let’s don’t make too much of this, Drover. Some would call it incredible heroism, but to me, it was just another day on the job. Someone had to whip the fire and . . . well, I was the one.”

His eyes sparkled in amazement. “But how’d you get it to rain?”

“It has to do with the tone of the barking, son. By making small adjustments in our standard Anti-Fire Barking Procedure, I was able to release a powerful wave of sonic energy into the clouds.”

“Gosh, no fooling?”

“Yes, and, well, you see the results. It was our last hope.”

“Yeah, and then you got run over by a tree.”

“Exactly. Boy, what a wreck! I’m just lucky I survived.”

“Yeah, and what a victory! You made it rain and put out the fire!”

I halted my pacing and looked up at the dark sky. “Actually, the experience leaves me very humble, Drover. When you find yourself in possession of such amazing powers, it . . . I find this hard to explain. Nobody can understand how it is, up here at the top of the mountain. Let me just say that I’m grateful that it worked and I feel very, very humble.”

Well, that’s about all the story. Was that a great ending or what? I had patched things up with Sally May, Little Alfred didn’t have to spend the rest of his life living in a cardboard box, and, best of all, Pete the Barncat got soaked in the rain. Ho ho! I loved it. You should have seen the little snot: ears plastered down on his head, his tail soaked and ugly, water dripping off his chin, and mad, very mad. Hee hee.

To be honest, I’m not sure Slim and Loper ever figured out who had saved the ranch, but that’s okay. When you get to be Head of Ranch Security, you take life one day at a time, knowing that your most noble and heroic deeds might go unnoticed. That’s just part of being a dog.

Case . . .

Oh, by the way, don’t forget why I was in the chicken house that night: to teach fire safety to the chickens. No kidding. Hey, I probably saved their lives, so don’t believe any of those ugly rumors.

Guard dogs don’t eat chickens.

Case slurped.

Closed.