In the desolate desert of the Seabury yard, the midday sun scorches the ground, making it slightly hot to the touch under the feet of Sheriff the Rooster. [Whistle sound plays] He looks out from under the brim of his felt hat at the distant dune of the patio. A tumbleweed rolls across the scene. [Whistle sound plays again] He smells trouble. Golden star on his chest and revolver at his hips, Sheriff is confident but cautious. He gallops up the hill to inspect the ground. There it is! In the tall grass, Sheriff stumbles upon a sight of horror: blood stained dirt, a few feathers scattered about and a chewed up bone. Sheriff concludes that the crime was committed 23 hours ago, and the bite marks, they remind him of something …
Too late! The villain is here again. This infamous outlaw spots Sheriff next to his last victim’s remains. A heated exchange ensues.
“Woof woof!”
“Bok-ah!”
[Deep growl] “Ruff!”
So this is it. A duel. Sheriff whips out his revolver, and … he misses! The hound’s bullet, however, scrapes his right wing. There is no escape.
Ignoring the dizzying pain and oozing blood, Sheriff charges at the canine. Without his flight, the battle is grueling. But Sheriff is quick. He darts between his foe’s legs, kicking the paws with his spurs and jumping up to peck the ears.
“Stop!” The saloon-fight is cut short by Mr. Nelson’s bellow and the neighbor’s shriek of “my poor puppy!”
After all his acts of bravery, our hero is rewarded with an exile to the coop, where he remains till this day. His distress call still echoes through the lower school hallway.
