Bolts Read Online Free

not talking,” the critter told him. “I think you’re just hearing what I’d say if I could talk.”
    â€œUmp!” muttered Bolts, puzzled. “Something’s mighty queer here.”
    â€œIt can’t be me. I’m only an ordinary burro, and on the smallish side—but I’ve got common sense. It has to be you. You’re queer-looking, and you even talk a queer language—but somehow I know what you say. Must be something in your head that does it. What are you, anyway?”
    â€œTin dawg,” said Bolts, wondering about his head. “Nothing wrong with me—except that I sorta got shortchanged here and there. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m no stupe—just kinda shy on knowledge, is all. Factory had to trim my brain to make it fit.”
    â€œMaybe it’s your trimmed brain that does it,” the burro suggested. “Doesn’t it feel sensitive around the edges?”
    â€œYup, it sure does.” Bolts blinked his eye lights in sudden understanding. “By Joe, that’s the answer! It’s all those exposed circuit ends. Well! Well! It’s really a comfort to be able to yak a bit with a guy like you. Where you heading?”
    â€œAnyplace but where I was!” The little burro glanced back nervously in the direction of the village. “Didn’t you hear the racket? Scared me so I jumped clean out of the corral, which is practically impossible. But when you hear something like ninety-seven mountain lions—”
    â€œOh, that was me,” Bolts admitted. “Me an’ my Number Three growl. I had to use it to escape.” He explained what had happened. “Sorry I shivered you so—but I mighty near shivered myself. That Number Three is rough!”
    â€œIt’s murder. Don’t—ever—use—it—near—me—again.”
    â€œWon’t,” Bolts promised. “That is, if you’ll keep me company for a spell. Looks mighty lonesome out here.”
    â€œSuits me, brother. Now that I’m out of that corral, I wouldn’t go back if they paved it with oats. Any master’s better than Lumpy Lopez—except Comrade Pang and that hairy major. He’s afraid to shave because he might be recognized. He’s wanted everywhere.”
    â€œWouldn’t trust none of ’em with a lead penny. What are they, anyway?”
    â€œBandits, thieves, spies, foreign agents, conniving cutthroats—you name it, and they’re it. If one’s any worse than the other, their own mothers wouldn’t know it. I’ve heard they’re all in the pay of the Mongolians, which I fear is very bad.”
    â€œWe’d better get going,” said Bolts. “They’re liable to come after me in spite of my growl. I’m valuable, you know.”
    â€œYou sure don’t look it.”
    â€œNever judge a book by its cover,” Bolts quoted as they began to trot along the trail. “There’s a possibility, my friend, that I’m a Super-Thought Machine. At least, that’s what they think I am.”
    â€œWhat would that be?” asked the burro.
    â€œHow would I know?”
    â€œIf you’re a Super-Thought Machine, you’d know it. I haven’t heard a super thought out of you yet.”
    â€œWell, that does make sense,” Bolts admitted. “Anyway, I’d rather be what I am instead of something I ain’t. Do you know where Battleship Lane is?”
    â€œNever heard of it. What is it?”
    â€œHome,” said Bolts. “I got folks there. I’m surprised you don’t know about it. It’s bound to be a well-known place. Hey, stop a minute—I hear dawgs behind us.”
    They stopped and listened.
    â€œThose are lion dogs,” the burro said uneasily. “They belong to Lumpy. Sounds as if they’re after us.”
    â€œWhat kind of critter is a lion dawg?”
    â€œBig, tough, and