The Phantom in the Mirror Read Online Free Page B

mirror might have some crazy notions about taking over my ranch, and if that’s what he had in mind, I figgered we might as well cross that bridge before we came to it.
    And the sooner the quicker.
    I went back for a showdown.

Chapter Five: Okay, Maybe Pete’s Story Wasn’t So Stupid

    A s I approached the mirror, the Phantom Dog approached it too, but from the opposite direction. I stopped and barked and . . . maybe I retreated a few steps, but so did he. In other words, my barking had served notice on him that I wasn’t a dog to be trifled with.
    I studied his face and began the process of piecing together a profile. He had a big nose, much too long and crude to attract women in any large numbers. It might have made a good anvil, but it wasn’t likely to take him far in the romance department.
    The mouth told me a lot. It was drawn in the shape of a rainbow. At the ends of this rainbow were not two pots of gold but two hanging jowls. The mouth and the jowls combined to say that this dog took himself pretty seriously and didn’t spend much of his time smiling.
    There wasn’t a lot of humor in that mouth.
    His ears were no work of art, a little on the floppy side, seemed to me, but they were perked in such a way as to suggest that this guy was alert. In other words, I couldn’t count on catching him off his guard.
    Then I studied his eyes. They had a hard set about them that reinforced my observation of his mouth. His eyes contained a deadly combination of utter seriousness and arrogance. My guess was that this guy was vain, self-centered, self-preoccupied, and above all, a rather boring personality.
    Oh, and one other thing the eyes revealed. For all his pretensions, this dog was not very smart. I felt much better on turning up this clue, knowing that I would be dealing from a position of superior intelligence.
    At that point, after completing my profile, I decided that the time had come to open lines of communication with this arrogant fraud—and to order him off of my ranch.
    I pulled myself up to my full height and massiveness and stepped up to the mirror, looked him squarely in the eyes, and beamed him a no-nonsense glare. I noticed that he tried to give me back the same kind of glare, but his wasn’t very convincing.
    â€œHey, you. Give me your name.”
    He didn’t answer, and at that point it occurred to me that he might not speak my language.
    Have I mentioned that I’m flatulent in many languages? It’s true, many languages. That’s one of the things a dog must master before he becomes a Head of Ranch Security. And since I had this talent in my bag of tricks, I decided to address him in Ancient Egyptian, just to see if he would respond.
    Here’s what I said, in perfect Ancient Egyptian: “Utt-whey izz-yeah oor-yeah aim-nay, ogg-day? Eek-spay!”
    (Translation: “Tell me your name and be quick about it, pooch, or you’re liable to be picking up teeth all afternoon.”)
    He didn’t answer—too scared, I would imagine—but I got the feeling that he understood this dialect, so I continued to use it. Here’s what I told the imposter:

    â€œOkay, the first thing you should know is that my name is Hank the Cowdog, Head of Ranch Security. This is my ranch and I’ve had you under surveillance from the moment you set foot on it. I’ve been watching you for days, and the only reason you’re still here is that I’ve been busy with other matters.
    â€œPoint two: I’ve done a complete background check on you. I know, for example, that you call yourself The Phantom Dog, and you claim to live in this mirror. Don’t bother to deny it, pal, I’ve read your dossier from start to finish.”
    He must have known that I had the goods on him. He didn’t say a word, just stood there looking simple. And vain. By this time I had begun to feel more confident, and I bored into him with another piece of