And how glad the dog was to be free once more! To dash into the water and out again, to gallop over the hills and through the woods! And Rick went with him. Every hour that he was not in school Rick spent with his dog and his boy chums. And the other boys—Chot and all of Rick's friends—loved Ruddy as though he was their own.
Ruddy never bothered the swans now. He did not even bark at them as he passed them on the shore of Silver Lake. And Ruddy and Sallie kept up their friendship. No more did Ruddy chase the cat, and no more did Sallie arch up her back and fluff out her tail if the dog came near.
One day, when the ground in the forest was thick with the fallen leaves, Ruddy went off by himself to run through the woods. He knew Rick might soon be home from school, and the dog wanted to race about by himself before that. Ruddy was livelier than the liveliest boy you ever saw. He could run twice as far and twice as fast, and sometimes Rick did not move fast enough for Ruddy, who was bubbling over with life and happiness. So it was that the dog often used to get off by himself for a joyous race through the woods, where the dried leaves made such a jolly, rattling sound.
And it was while Ruddy was racing here and there in the woods among the leaves, catching, now and then, the most wonderful smells of wild rabbits, squirrels and quail birds—it was while thus running wildly to and fro, that Ruddy heard a voice calling.
"Mew! Mew! Meaouw!" came the sound, and Ruddy well knew what it was.
"A cat!" he thought to himself, in the way that dogs think, by instinct. "A cat! and maybe I can have fun chasing her."
Ruddy and Sallie had become friends by this time, living so close to one another, and Ruddy had given up chasing the big, gray tabby. But he was not friends with any other cat. In fact he did not then know any other cats except Sallie.
"Mew! Mew!" came the voice again, and Ruddy knew enough of animal talk to tell that it was a cat in trouble.
He sniffed and smelled his way to where the cat-odor came from until, passing around a hollow stump, he saw a sad sight.
Huddled up in a heap among the leaves was Sallie, and the gray cat was in pain. She was caught in something, as Ruddy could see, and at once he leaped to her side, though he did not know what was the matter. All he knew was that he wanted to help a friend, as, very often, animals help one another.
The fact was that Sallie was caught in a steel trap, set to catch some wild animal of the woods.
Sallie, the big, gray cat, was so huddled up among the dried leaves of the forest that, at first, Ruddy could see nothing of the trap. It was down in a hollow, and Sallie was lying close to a stump.
But Ruddy was a bird dog, and, like all his kind, he was used to nosing around among dried leaves after quail, pheasants or other game, and, seeing Sallie lying so still among the dried foliage, and not getting up to rub noses with him, as she always did since they became friends—not seeing Sallie do this, Ruddy knew something was wrong, even if Sallie had not told him. He began to nose around among the leaves to find out what was the matter.
Once, when Ruddy was a small puppy, his mother had taken him and some of the other small dogs out in the fields, and one of Ruddy's brothers had been nipped on the leg by a large ground mole, that the puppy had caught as it was trying to burrow under the earth and leaves. Ruddy remembered that his puppy brother had howled and had held his paw down among the bushes while the mole clung to it, much as Sallie hid her leg in the leaves now.
"There must be something fast to Sallie's leg," thought Ruddy, in dog fashion. And there was. It was the trap into which Sallie had stepped—a trap hidden under the dried foliage where she had not seen it.
Ruddy nosed among the leaves, much as he would have nosed to find a game bird for which he was searching. And soon he uncovered the trap. He happened to touch it with his nose, and, as he did so, Sallie gave a soft cry. It hurt her leg to have the trap moved.
Ruddy stopped at once. Animals know when one of their kind is hurt, and, often, they do all they can to help. Ruddy wanted to help Sallie now. He wanted to help her out of the trap.
The trap was made of steel, and it had two jaws that opened, being held apart, when the trap was set, by a catch. There was a round, flat piece of steel, about as large as a fifty-cent piece, and on this round bit of metal, called a "pan," whoever set the trap had put some bait. Any animal that touched the pan, in trying to get the bait, would move the catch and the strong spring would snap the jaws of the trap together, holding fast anything that was between them. And it was poor Sallie's paw that was now in the jaws of the trap.
Sallie had been wandering in the woods, among the leaves, for she liked to hear them rattle and rustle, as did Ruddy. Sometimes Sallie caught grasshoppers or crickets in the woods. But this time she was caught herself—caught in the trap before she knew it.
Ruddy looked at Sallie's paw and then at Sallie and then at the trap. He was beginning to understand what had happened. Animals seem to grow wiser once they have been trapped, or see one of their kind held between the steel jaws.
Ruddy was wondering how he could help Sallie. There was only one way, so it seemed to the red-brown dog. He must have known that he could not open the trap. He might have been strong enough, but he did not know just the secret of springing apart the steel jaws. So Ruddy tried the next best thing.
As tenderly as he could Ruddy took hold of Sallie by the loose skin at the back of the cat's neck. Ruddy remembered how, in the stable where he first lived, he had once seen a mother cat carry her kittens in this way, by the back of the neck. So, being careful not to bite Sallie in his teeth, which soon would be strong enough to crush bones, Ruddy tried to lift Sallie up and out of the trap.
But he soon stopped when the cat gave a howl of pain. And no wonder Sallie meaouwed to show that she was hurt. Her paw was pinched in the trap, and pulling her up by the back of her neck, as Ruddy was doing, made the pain worse.
Ruddy let go of Sallie as soon as he heard her cry. He knew the language of pain as well as he knew the cat's talk of friendship. Sallie, with her tongue, began to lick the paw at the part nearest the trap. Doing that seemed to ease the ache somewhat.
Ruddy moved back a little, and sat down among the leaves. He looked again at Sallie, at her paw and at the trap. Plainly Ruddy was puzzled as to what next to do to help his friend.
Ruddy could see a chain on the trap. It was like the chain by which he was sometimes fastened in his kennel. The other end of the chain was fast to a log. If it had not been for this Sallie might have limped off on three legs, carrying the trap snapped shut on her other paw; for the trap was not a large one, being set only to catch rats or mice. Often wild animals drag away with them traps by which they have been caught. That is why hunters fasten the traps to heavy logs or stumps.
Ruddy knew it was of no use to try to gnaw through the steel chain or steel trap. He could gnaw wood, but not iron or steel. And after trying once more to paw around in the leaves, hoping he might free Sallie from the trap, the dog gave it up.
And then came to Ruddy the right thought. He would go get the Boy—Rick, his master. Rick meant everything, now, in the dog's small world. There was nothing Rick could not do. He could easily open this trap. Ruddy would go get Rick.
As soon as this thought came to him (as it must have come; or why did he act as he did?), Ruddy gave a bark and started off. Sallie uttered a mournful meaouw as she saw her friend leaving. But Ruddy turned and barked at her—barked just once. But there was much meaning in that little bark. It was as if he had said:
"Don't you worry, or be afraid, Sallie. I'm not going to leave you for long. I'm going for help. I can't get that trap open myself. But Rick can! I'm going for Rick!"
And then away leaped Ruddy through the woods, scattering the dry leaves, and looking back once more, as he came to the edge of the forest, to let Sallie see he had not forgotten her.
By leaps and bounds Ruddy hurried through the clumps of trees. He leaped little brooks, and once, coming to a pond that was rather wide, he swam it, rather than lose time by going around. He was in a hurry to get his master to help Sallie.
In a few minutes, so fast did he run, Ruddy was in his kennel-yard, back of the house. Rick was just coming home from school, with his sister Mazie.
"Oh, there he is!" cried Rick, as soon as he saw his dog. "I was afraid the old ragged sailor had taken you away."
Ruddy leaped about his master, who patted him on the head. Ruddy had no time now to think about ragged sailors, if, indeed, he knew what they were. He wanted to help Sallie.
Catching hold of Rick's coat, Ruddy began to pull. He gave two or three tugs and yanks, and then, letting go, ran a little way along the path toward the woods. Then he stopped, looked back at Rick and barked.
It was the first time Rick had ever seen his dog act this way, and he did not know what it meant. He looked at his pet.
"What is it, old fellow? What's the matter?" asked Rick.
"Dear me! Can't you understand? How slow you are!" said Ruddy, in dog language, which, of course, Rick could not hear. "Why when you want me to come with you all you have to do is call me once, and I come. Or you have only to whistle. Now I want you to come with me to help Sallie, and I've got to pull you along and bark and run on ahead and look back and run back—dear me! How slow you are!"
As Rick did not at once come when Ruddy invited him the dog ran back again, once more grasped his master by the coat, and pulled a second time. He did not let go so soon, now, and actually dragged Rick along a few steps.
"Come on! Come on!" said Ruddy, as plainly as it could be said by any dog.
"Oh, he wants you to come and play with him!" exclaimed Mazie.
"No, it isn't that," her brother answered. "Ruddy would just as soon play here in the yard as anywhere else. He must want me to come to the woods. Well, I'll go, old fellow!"
No sooner did Rick start to follow Ruddy than the dog gave every sign of being pleased. He barked joyfully, leaped about, ran on ahead and then ran back to put his cold nose against Rick's hand. It was as though Ruddy was afraid Rick would not keep on following.
But the boy did, though he could not guess what it was all about. Mazie wanted to come also, but Rick said she had better not, so he sent her home. Then he saw Chot crossing the fields, and called to his chum.
"What's the matter?" asked Chot, for he could tell by Rick's voice that something had happened.
"I don't know what it is," Rick answered, "but Ruddy pulled at my coat, and wants me to come with him!"
"Oh, I know what that means!" cried Chot. "I've often read that dogs do that when they've caught something too big for them. Maybe he's treed a bear in the woods, Rick!" Chot's eyes shone with excitement.
"There aren't any bears around here," Rick said. "But I guess Ruddy has found something in the woods he wants me to see."
"I'll come with you," offered Chot.
And, a little later, Ruddy led the two boys straight to the place where poor Sallie was held a prisoner in the trap.
"Oh, look!" cried Chot, as he saw the gray animal fast among the leaves. "It's a big squirrel, caught in a bush!"
"No, it's Mrs. Watson's cat, Sallie!" exclaimed Rick. "She's in a trap! Poor thing!"
Sallie meaouwed as she saw Ruddy coming back with the boys. The dog leaped about and barked, as if he were saying, as he really was:
"There you are, Sallie! I brought someone to help you!"
"Thank you," Sallie must have answered, but she spoke in a very weak voice, for she was in much pain.
As tenderly as they could, Rick and Chot took the trap off the cat's paw. Her leg was lame and sore, but it was not broken, I'm glad to say. She limped as she walked, and when Chot saw this he said:
"I'll carry her! Say, but your dog is smart, Rick, to come to get help for a cat in a trap!"
"Yes, Ruddy is a smart dog," agreed Rick. "I hope the sailor tramp doesn't come and take him away!"
Rick had not lost that fear which stayed with him for many days. He and Chot took turns carrying Sallie home, and very glad the cat was to rest in the arms of the kind boys. Ruddy leaped along with them, now and then giving loud barks. At least that is all they sounded like to Chot and his chum, but, really, Ruddy was talking to Sallie as he trotted along beside her.
It was more than a week before Sallie could step on her sore paw. Meanwhile she stayed in her own yard—at the house where she lived with Mrs. Watson, her mistress. Ruddy came over to see her each day, and the two became better friends than ever. Mrs. Watson thanked Rick and Ruddy for having brought home her pet cat, and as for Ruddy, Sallie's mistress saved for him every nice bone she got from the butcher's.
"I never knew a dog who was so smart," she said. "And it's remarkable how he seems to like Sallie, especially when he used to chase her so at first."
One day, when he came home from school, Rick asked his mother if he might go to the woods and see if he could get some chestnuts.
"Yes," she answered, "but don't stay too long. Don't get lost as you once did, and be home before dark."
Rick promised to be careful, and to be home before supper, and then, taking a cloth salt bag, in which to carry the chestnuts if he should find any, off he started with Ruddy following. And the dog leaped about and barked happily. Nothing pleased him more than going to the woods with Rick.
Now chestnut trees were rather hard to find in the forest near where Rick lived. The blight had killed many of them, and some did not have any nuts on. So it was not until he had gone more than a mile into the woods before the small boy found a place where the ground was fairly well covered with the brown nuts.
"Now I'll get some!" cried Rick, as he began picking them up. "I'll take some home, and Mazie and I can roast them on the stove after supper."
While Rick picked up the nuts Ruddy raced here and there. He was having as much fun as was his master. At last the boy saw no more nuts on the ground, but there were many on the tree, and Rick began to look for a way to climb up and shake them down. The chestnut trunk was too big for him to span with his arms, so he started up a slim maple that grew next to it. Rick was a good tree climber, but to-day he was out of luck. He managed to scramble up a few feet and then he suddenly slipped in a queer way. One leg was caught fast between the trunk of the maple and a slim branch, and the next Rick knew, he was lying on his back on the ground, under the tree, with one leg stuck almost upright, and held fast. Rick was caught, almost as if he were in a trap.
Rick was at first so shaken and stunned by the fall that he could not speak. The breath seemed to have been jarred out of him, as it was once when he fell down stairs, and he could not even cry for nearly a quarter of a minute. But at last his breath came back to him, and he exclaimed:
"Oh! Oh, dear!"
Instantly Ruddy was at his master's side. The dog had been nosing around among the leaves. He had caught the scent of a wild rabbit, and he was jumping about for joy, getting ready to follow the trail of the little creature to its burrow. And let me tell you that Ruddy could, by merely smelling on the ground, over which the rabbit had walked, tell which path the rabbit had gone, whether away from its underground home or toward it.
And Ruddy would not follow the trail away from the rabbit's home. He would nose his way along, getting nearer and nearer to the bunny's burrow at each step until, at last, he might catch the furry little fellow.
It was not that Ruddy was cruel, or liked to hurt rabbits. It was just his nature to want to hunt them. And so it was as he nosed around among the leaves, the wild smell of the rabbit coming more and more strongly to him, that Ruddy heard his master's cry of pain.
Instantly the wild rabbit was forgotten, and Ruddy bounded to the side of Rick—poor Rick who was lying on the ground, one foot caught in the crotch of a tree from which he had fallen as he tried to climb up and get the chestnuts.
"Oh! Oh, dear!" exclaimed Rick again, for he was in pain, his ankle being turned on one side. He hoped it wasn't broken.
"Bow, wow!" barked Ruddy. That was all Rick heard his dog say, and he almost knew it meant: "Dear me! I'm sorry about this!"
But Ruddy said a good deal more than this, or, at least, he thought it, in the strange, mysterious way dogs have of thinking.
"Well, well!" thought Ruddy to himself, dog fashion. "You surely are in trouble, Master! In almost as much trouble as Sallie was! I wonder if I can help you?"
Ruddy sniffed at Rick, walked around him and sniffed again. Ruddy did not exactly understand what had happened. But he knew his master was held fast as the cat had been, though in a different way.
"You can't get me out, Ruddy! You can't get me loose, old boy!" spoke Rick. "You'd better go home and bring somebody to help, as you brought me to help the cat! Go home, Ruddy! Go home!"
Ruddy heard these words and he knew what they meant. Once or twice before Rick had sent his dog home when Ruddy had followed at a time when he ought not to have done so. Then Rick had spoken sharply, as one must do, at times, with a dog, to make sure he obeys. But now Rick's voice was quite different. He was begging Ruddy to do him a favor.
"Go home, Ruddy! Go home!" ordered Rick.
Ruddy barked once or twice, circled around Rick who lay on his back with one foot stuck up in the air, where it was held fast in the tree, and then the dog came and licked Rick's face with his smooth tongue. Dog's tongues are smooth, you know, and cat's tongues are rough.
"Oh, I know you like me, Ruddy!" said Rick, with a half laugh in spite of his pain. "You needn't kiss me any more to show that! But run home and bring somebody to help me get loose."
And then Ruddy knew just what was wanted of him, and off through the woods he rushed. He scattered the dried leaves from side to side, he leaped little brooks, swam larger ones and never stopped, no matter how often he caught the scent of the wild rabbits and squirrels. And then, panting from his run, Ruddy leaped into the house just as Mr. Dalton reached home. Ruddy lost no time. He took hold of Rick's father's coat, just as he had taken hold of Rick's, the day Sallie was caught in a trap, and then the dog tried to pull the man along with him.
And because of what had happened before—because Mr. Dalton knew Ruddy would not do this unless he had a reason for it—he followed the dog at once, running out of the house after him.
"What is it? Oh, what's the matter?" cried the boy's mother.
"I don't know," answered her husband, "except that Rick is in some kind of trouble, and Ruddy has come to have me help. I'll go get Rick and bring him home!"
"Oh, but—but suppose he is badly hurt!" cried Mrs. Dalton.
"I don't believe he is," answered the father. "He may have fallen from a tree, and, at worst, have broken a leg. I'll get him!"
He followed Ruddy, and, once the dog had made sure his master's father was coming along, he lost no time, but ran through the woods, straight to the place where he had left Rick.
"Rick! Rick! Where are you?" cried Mr. Dalton, as he entered the forest.
"Here I am, Dad! Caught fast in a tree!" cried the boy.
"Are you badly hurt?"
"No, only my leg is caught. Did Ruddy come after you?"
"Indeed he did! Good old Ruddy!"
The dog barked as he heard his name spoken, ran to Rick, who still was held fast, and again licked his face.
"Steady now, boy!" said Mr. Dalton, and, in a few moments he had raised Rick's foot, something which the boy could not do for himself, and had freed him from the tree-trap. That is really what it was, a tree-trap, though no one had set it. The trap just grew there.
To Rick's joy he found that his ankle was not broken, and not even sprained. It had been twisted rather roughly, and it gave him pain when he stepped on it, but he could walk slowly, and did not need to be carried.
"How did it happen?" asked Rick's father, and the boy told him, meanwhile picking up the chestnuts that had fallen from his pockets as he toppled from the tree.
"It's a good thing I had Ruddy with me," said Rick, "or maybe I'd have been here a long while."
"Yes," agreed Mr. Dalton. "But if you hadn't come home by dark I would have come after you, and if I had had Ruddy with me I think he soon would have picked up your trail, and he would have led me to you; wouldn't you, Ruddy old boy?"
The dog barked in delight as he heard this talk, for he knew he was being praised, and a dog, or nearly any other animal, likes kindness as much as we ourselves do. And let me tell you this, your dog can tell, just by the sound of your voice, whether you are speaking kindly or are cross with him. Just try it. In harsh, angry tones say to him:
"You are a bad dog!"
See how his tail will drop between his legs, and how he will slink away—that is if he is a natural dog and has not been spoiled. Then say those same words in the kindest, most gentle voice you can, and see how your dog will brighten up, and wag his tail.
So you see it isn't the words so much as it is how you say them, though I do believe that some dogs know certain words, no matter how they are spoken.
Anyhow Ruddy understood that his master and the father were pleased with him, and he capered about, barking and trying to reach up to lick Rick's face again.
"We must hurry back home," said Mr. Dalton. "Your mother will be worried about you, Rick!"
And Mrs. Dalton was so worried that, half way home, father and son met her coming along to see what had happened to her boy.
And when she saw that Rick was all right, and when she heard what had happened, you may be sure she loved that red dog almost as much as her boy did; and that was a great deal! There was no question now about not keeping Ruddy.
Rick was a little lame for two or three days after his chestnut hunt, and he had to tell the story to his chums over and over again, of how Ruddy had gone back home and brought help to him.
"He sure is a fine dog!" exclaimed Chot, and all the other boys agreed with him.
When Rick came home from school each day he used to stop, when about a block away from his home, and give a shrill whistle. This was to call Ruddy to him, and the dog, who always seemed to be waiting, would rush down the street to meet his master. If he had been chained in his kennel during the day Mrs. Dalton would loosen him shortly before it was time for Rick to come along. Sometimes she forgot, and then Ruddy would tug at his chain to get loose as soon as he heard the boy's whistle.
But one day, about a week after Rick's accident at the chestnut tree, while Mrs. Dalton was in the kitchen baking a cake, she suddenly heard a shrill whistle. It seemed to come from down the street, which was from where Rick always called his dog. And as soon as Mrs. Dalton had heard the shrill notes, perhaps even before, Ruddy, asleep in his kennel, has also caught them. He sprang up with a joyful bark, rattling his chain.
"Why, it isn't time for Rick to be home from school yet!" said his mother in surprise; "unless he is out earlier than usual. Maybe something has happened and there isn't any more school just now—the teacher may have given the boys a holiday.
"Yes, Ruddy! I'm going to let you loose so you may to go meet him!" spoke Mrs. Dalton, as she hurried out to loosen the chain.
Again the shrill whistle sounded, and Ruddy barked with impatience. He could hardly wait to run and meet Rick. Later on I am going to tell you how Ruddy learned to know when his master was coming without hearing this call, even when Rick was far off.
Out of the yard bounded the dog, and Mrs. Dalton went back to her baking, wondering why her son was returning from school so early. But, a little later, when Ruddy came back alone, she was more surprised.
"What!" she exclaimed. "No Rick? That's queer! I thought I surely heard his whistle, and you did, too, Ruddy. But it must have been some other boy."
Ruddy looked puzzled and disappointed. It was the first time he had gone to meet his master and had not found him. The red dog could not understand it.
"It must have been some other boy," said Mrs. Dalton. "But never mind, Ruddy. It will soon be time for Rick to come."
Ruddy went back to his kennel, and Mrs. Dalton kept on with her baking. A little later it was twelve o'clock, and in came Rick. He had forgotten to whistle because he was so excited over a game of football he, Chot and some other boys were going to play that afternoon.
"Hello, Ruddy!" cried Rick, as he saw his dog. "Hello, old boy!" and the setter leaped joyfully about his master.
"What other boy whistles like you?" asked Rick's mother, as she told what had happened, and how Ruddy had been disappointed.
"No other boy that I know of," answered Rick. "I always have a special whistle for Ruddy, and he knows it."
"Someone whistled exactly like you," went on Mrs. Dalton. "I was fooled by it, and so was Ruddy. I wonder——"
"Hark!" exclaimed Rick.
Again a shrill whistle sounded. It seemed to come from the street outside. Ruddy sprang up with a bark, his soft, silky ears cocked up as much as he could raise them.
"There it is—hear it!" said Mrs. Dalton.
Again came the signal call, and Ruddy looked toward the gate and then at his master. Clearly it was not Rick whistling, and yet——
"Someone is trying to call Ruddy away!" said Rick in a low voice. "They're trying to fool him. Maybe it's that tramp sailor—the one who was telling Sig about the dog that was washed overboard. Oh, Ruddy! If they take you away from me!"
Once more came the shrill whistle. It seemed to be calling the dog, and Ruddy did not know what to do.
Rick dropped his strap of school books that had been swinging around his head as he ran home.
"Come on, Ruddy!" the boy called to his dog. "We'll see who is doing that whistling!"
And by the sharp, short bark the setter gave his master knew that the dog was as ready as he, himself, to find out who was trying to play a trick on them, if anyone was.
"Wait a minute, Rick!" called his mother, as the two friends ran toward the gate. "What was that you said about a tramp sailor?"
Rick repeated what the coast guard had told him.
"Then you'd better be careful how you let Ruddy run loose," went on Mrs. Dalton. "Do you think the sailor is hiding out there now, trying to call Ruddy?"
"That's what I think, Mother," the boy answered. "But if anyone who doesn't really own Ruddy tries to take him away from me——" Rick paused when he had said this much. He really didn't know what he would do. "But I guess Ruddy won't go with them; will you, old fellow?" he asked his dog.
And from the manner in which Ruddy barked and capered about the boy he had grown to care for so much, it did seem that no one else could ever get the dog away.
Once again the whistle sounded, just as if it were Rick himself, or an echo of the boy's shrill call. Ruddy was puzzled by it and, lifting up his ears, looked up into Rick's face, as if to ask what it all meant.
"Come on! We'll find it out!" called the boy.
Together they ran to the street. Rick looked up and down. No one was in sight. And then, again came the shrill call. It sounded overhead.
"Someone is up in a tree!" cried Rick. "Is that you, Chot?" he called, thinking perhaps his chum was trying to play a little joke on him.
There was no answer, but, after a moment the whistle sounded again, and then followed a loud, harsh call of:
"Haw! Haw! Haw!"
If you could have seen the looks, then, on the faces of Rick and Ruddy you would have laughed. Both boy and dog showed how very much they had been fooled by the whistling of the pet crow.
For it was Rick's black bird, Haw-Haw by name, who had been doing the whistling. The sly fellow had listened to Rick until he could imitate the boy perfectly and now, up in a tree into which he had managed to flutter, Haw-Haw was calling Ruddy.
"Come down out of that, Haw-Haw! Come down!" called Rick, and there was a flittering amid the branches of the tree on which there were still a few leaves. Haw-Haw, whose broken wing had healed, not enough to permit him to fly well, but enough so that he could flutter up into the low branches of trees, came half tumbling down, half soaring and perched himself on Rick's shoulder.
"I didn't know you could whistle!" exclaimed the boy. "I was going to teach you, Haw-Haw, but I guess you must have taught yourself. Whistle again for me!"
But Haw-Haw did not seem to want to do this. He preened his glossy black feathers with his black bill, and made funny little noises down in his throat.
Ruddy, his head on one side, peered up at the crow on Rick's shoulder and the queer, puzzled look was still on the dog's face.
"It's all right, Ruddy! It's all right," said Rick, patting his setter's head. "It was only Haw-Haw whistling for you."
Rick had been so busy having fun and going to school that, after his father had set the crow's broken wing, the boy had almost forgotten about his black bird. But Haw-Haw had grown stronger and he had grown tame—so tame that he would perch on the shoulders of any members of the family and let them feed him. Rick had been talking of teaching the crow to talk and whistle, as he had read could be done. But he kept putting it off, for one reason and another, until he was much surprised by hearing the crow's whistle.
"Did you find who it was trying to call Ruddy?" asked Rick's mother, as he came back in the yard with the crow on his shoulder and the dog leaping around him, barking joyously and excitedly. Ruddy did not altogether like Haw-Haw being so friendly with Rick.
"It was my crow whistling!" said Rick.
"Your crow?" exclaimed Mrs. Dalton, in surprise.
"Yes. He must have been listening to me at different times, until he got so he could whistle just as I do when I call Ruddy. And Haw-Haw certainly sounded natural. He fooled even you; didn't he, Ruddy?"
The dog barked as much as to say:
"He certainly did!"
Just how Haw-Haw learned to whistle Rick never found out. Certainly the boy did not cut the crow's tongue, and perhaps whistling came natural to the black bird. And it may be that it was not a regular "whistle" at all, but merely a sound like that. Of course a bird has no lips to pucker up and whistle with, as boys have, and some girls, too. But many birds utter whistling notes when they sing, or give their calls. The quail, or Bob White, seems to whistle, and so does the Whip-poor-will. And I have heard many men who can, by whistling with their tongue and lips, imitate many birds. I have even heard a man whistle like a robin, and so nearly perfectly as to deceive a cat. Pussy came running into the room where the man was whistling, looking around to find the feathered songster.
So it is easily possible for a crow to imitate the whistle of a boy, and this is what Haw-Haw had done. He must have practised by himself in the woodshed, whistling in low notes at first, as a singer does who is not quite sure of the air. And then, when he found he could imitate Rick's cheerful call to his dog, the crow had fluttered out into a tree, and had sent his shrill notes echoing.
"Well, now I know you can whistle I'm going to teach you to talk, Haw-Haw," said Rick.
The boy began that very afternoon on the crow's further education. Rick got from the kitchen some pieces of meat, which the black bird liked very much, and, holding one chunk up near the sharp, strong bill, said:
"Now, Haw-Haw, let me hear you say something! Say 'I want a piece of meat!'"
But whether this was too long a sentence for the crow to start on, or whether he did not understand what Rick wanted I can not say. At any rate Haw-Haw said nothing. He did not even whistle. He just held his head on one side, as Ruddy sometimes did when Rick was talking to him, and Haw-Haw looked at the chunk of meat held in Rick's fingers so temptingly near.
"Go on! Say something!" exclaimed Rick.
Suddenly Ruddy, who was sitting up just behind his master, gave a bark. Ruddy's eyes, too, were on the meat, and perhaps he thought his boy master was talking to him. At any rate Ruddy barked, Rick turned his head aside for a moment to speak to his setter pet.
And at that instant Haw-Haw, seeing his chance, took it. Rick felt a sudden jab at his fingers, the meat was snatched from them and then with a loud "Haw! Haw!" the crow fluttered up to the roof of the woodshed to eat the morsel.
"Oh, that isn't fair!" cried Rick, but he had to laugh. "That isn't playing the game!"
"Haw! Haw!" croaked the crow, and it sounded just as if he were laughing at Rick. He may have been, too, for all I know.
That was the beginning of the crow's education at the hands of Rick, but not many times after that could the black bird fool his master by snatching away the meat or other dainty. Rick was more careful.
Rick did manage to get Haw-Haw to say a few words. At least the boy declared they were words, though his father and mother said they could not understand them. Mazie said she could, so perhaps it was because Mr. and Mrs. Dalton did not stop long enough to listen.
And Haw-Haw also tried some other whistling notes, different from the dog-call he had learned of Rick. But that dog-call was the best thing he did, and he often fooled Ruddy by fluttering out to a bush in front of the house and giving the shrill whistle by which Rick used to summon his pet on coming from school.
After a while, when Haw-Haw knew he could play his tricks on Ruddy, the crow did it so often that the poor dog was quite puzzled about it. Ruddy would be sleeping on the porch, perhaps, waiting for Rick to come from school to have a romp across the fields. And then, about time for the classes to be dismissed, the crow would softly flutter out from his nest in the woodshed and take his perch in a bush, or on a low branch of a tree. There he would give his whistle.
With a bark of welcome Ruddy would awaken from his sleep and dash off the porch out to the front gate. There he would glance up and down the street, where no Rick was in sight.
With a queer look on his face, the dog would then go back to the porch, growling and glancing up at the tree where the crow was perched. Ruddy knew he had been fooled. But, no matter how often this happened, he would always jump up and run out whenever Haw-Haw whistled. Ruddy could not tell the difference between the notes of the crow and the call of Rick. As I told you a dog depends on his scent, or by smelling with his nose, to tell his master and friends, and not on his ears or eyesight, though a dog's hearing is better than his vision.
"I guess I'll have to stop whistling for Ruddy when I come home from school," said Rick to his mother one day, when he had come in with his books, and had been told that Haw-Haw had played the trick three times on the setter that afternoon. "It's too bad to plague him that way. I won't whistle any more when I come along."
"I guess it would be just as well not to," agreed Mrs. Dalton. "Haw-Haw is too smart for Ruddy. And he has another trick, too, Rick."
"You mean Haw-Haw has?"
"Yes, he took some spoons off the kitchen table to-day and dropped them in the hollow of a tree in front of the house. I saw him, or I wouldn't have known about it. It's quite a deep hollow and I could hardly reach down in and get the spoons. And what else do you think I found down in there?"
"I don't know. Was it my roller skate key that I lost?"
"No, but it was the new tea strainer I lost. That disappeared last week. Haw-Haw must have carried it off. I have heard that crows like to pick up shiny things and hide them, but this is the first time our crow had done such a trick."
"Say, he's a regular trick crow; isn't he?" exclaimed Rick.
"Too much so!" laughed Mrs. Dalton. "I must watch him."
"And I must try to teach him some more words to say," went on Rick. "He can almost say 'I want my supper' now."
"Well, I'm glad you think it sounds like something," said Rick's mother. "To me your crow's talk only resembles a lot of screeching and jabbering."
"Oh, he'll learn to talk all right," declared Rick. "I'm going to teach him now."
And when Chot came over, a little later, the two boys took turns at educating the black crow. They seemed to be satisfied with what Haw-Haw learned, though when the crow was brought in the house, perched on Rick's shoulder, and asked to repeat his latest lesson, he only flapped his one good wing and whistled shrilly.
"Oh, say! You're a tease!" cried Rick, and Mazie laughed at the two boys.
But Rick gave up whistling to Ruddy on coming home from school, and the crow soon learned that he could no longer fool the dog. Ruddy was growing wiser and Haw-Haw gradually stopped that trick, though he did not forget how to whistle.
However, though Rick gave up sounding his signal call to his dog on coming from school, Ruddy seemed to know about the time to expect his boy master. He would be on the watch and waiting, and, when the hands of the clock pointed to a little after three, Rick would race out to the gate and wait for his chum; for that is what Rick and Ruddy were now—chums.
One afternoon Rick came running in the gate, swinging his books like the pendulum of a clock that was running on double time.
"Where's Ruddy? Where's my football?" cried the boy. "We're going to have some fun—all the boys over in the big field! Where's Ruddy? Where's my football?"
"Why, your football must be just where you left it," Mrs. Dalton answered. "As for Ruddy, didn't he come to meet you?"
"Come to meet me? No. Was he here a while ago?"
"Just a little while ago, yes. He was asleep on the porch. I heard a whistle, and saw him rush out."
"But, Mother, I didn't whistle for him! I don't call him that way any more since Haw-Haw played that trick. I didn't call Ruddy!"
"You didn't?"
"No!" was the answer. Rick was beginning to be alarmed.
"Someone whistled and he ran out," went on Mrs. Dalton.
"I wonder if it was Haw-Haw?" spoke the boy.
Just then the crow fluttered out from the kitchen, where he sometimes went to sleep behind the stove.
"It couldn't have been him," declared Rick.
"It was someone," said Mrs. Dalton. "I saw Ruddy run out as he always does when he goes to meet you, and——"
Rick did not stop to hear what else his mother had to say. He rushed for the front gate and looked up and down the street. No Ruddy was in sight, and a great fear came into the boy's heart.
Never, since the red-brown setter had come up out of the ocean to be Rick's dog, had Ruddy not been on hand to greet his master when the boy came racing from school. During the hours when Rick had to be at his classes, studying or reciting his lessons, Ruddy, when not chained in his kennel, would roam about the woods and fields, not too far away from the house. Once he had even followed Rick and Mazie to school, and Rick had been excused, and allowed to bring his pet back home.
And now, for the first time, Ruddy was not there to greet his master. Rick looked up and down the street but no dog was in sight; only Sallie, the cat.
Rick gave a shrill whistle, the kind he always used to call his pet, but there was no joyous, answering bark. Sallie, the cat, gave a meaouw as if replying, but Rick did not understand cat language, or at least not very much of it, so he did not know what Sallie was saying. Perhaps the cat was telling Rick she knew where Ruddy had gone, but, being unable to speak boy-talk, the cat was of no use to Rick.
"Here, Ruddy! Ruddy! Here, Ruddy, boy!" called Rick. Then he whistled again, and Haw-Haw, being fully awake now, and hearing the shrill notes, imitated them.
"Oh, Mother!" exclaimed Rick, coming back to the side porch. "Where do you s'pose Ruddy can be?"
"Oh, I guess he just ran off, maybe to play with Peter," said Mrs. Dalton.
"But he never did it before—not when I was coming home from school," remarked the boy.
Just then Haw-Haw whistled again.
"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Dalton. "I heard a whistle just like that a few minutes before you came. It wasn't the crow, for he was asleep behind the stove."
"And I didn't whistle!" declared Rick. "Oh, do you think it could be that sailor—the one who was asking Mr. Bailey about Ruddy? Maybe he's been around here, and he heard me whistle, or maybe he heard Haw-Haw, and he knows how we used to call Ruddy. And maybe he called my dog and took him away."
"Oh, I hardly think so," said Mrs. Dalton, though she was afraid this might have happened. "I guess Ruddy just ran off to play with Peter, or some other dog."
"But he never did it before!" exclaimed Rick. "He always knows when I'm coming from school and he waits for me."
This was true enough, and Mrs. Dalton knew it. Just then Mazie, who had stopped on her way home from school to talk to some of her girl friends, came into the yard.
"Did you see Ruddy?" asked Rick, eagerly.
"No," was the answer. "Oh, is he lost, Rick?"
"I—I'm afraid so," was the reply. "I'm going to go out and look for him."
"Better look over in Peter's yard," suggested Mrs. Dalton. "Ruddy may be there."
But the red-brown setter dog was not playing with the queer sleepy-eyed, though good-natured English bull. Peter was gnawing a bone near his kennel when Rick hurried in.
"Bow wow!" barked Peter, for that was his way of saying "Hello!"
"Here, Ruddy! Ruddy!" called Rick, looking around the yard of Tom Martin's house, for Rick thought his dog might have been playing with Peter a game very much like the boys' game of hide-and-go-seek.
"Ruddy isn't here," said Tom, coming out of the house with a slice of bread and jam. "What's the matter, can't you find him?"
Rick told about Ruddy's disappearance.
"Come on! We'll go and look for him!" offered Tom, making hasty bites at the bread and jam, after breaking off a piece for his boy friend, and giving Peter a nibble. "We'll take Peter and look for Ruddy."
"Thanks!" exclaimed Rick, hungrily chewing away. "I guess that'll be best. I'll go tell my mother we're going."
"And maybe when you get back home Ruddy will be there," suggested Tom.
"No, I don't believe he will," spoke Rick, rather sadly. "I don't know where Ruddy is, but he's gone."
And gone the setter certainly was—at least he was not back at Rick's house when Tom and Rick reached there, with Peter running along beside them, sniffing at every tree and fence post.
"Hello, Rick! What you doin'?" called Chot from the back yard of his home, where he was beating a rug.
"Looking for my dog," answered Rick. "Ruddy's gone!"
"Whew!" whistled Chot. "That's too bad. Wait a minute, I'll come and help you look!"
Searching for a lost dog was more fun, any day, than knocking the dust out of a rug. Chot must have said as much to his mother, or else have promised to finish the beating later, for he soon came running out to join Tom and Rick.
"Where'd he go?" asked Chot, after he had patted Peter on the head, and the dog had wagged his tail.
"We don't know," Rick answered, and then he told about Ruddy having run out at the sound of a whistle.
"It must have been your crow, playing a trick again," Chot said.
"No," declared Rick. "It was that sailor tramp, this time, I'm sure. He wants to get Ruddy back—he told the coast guard so. Ruddy's a lucky dog, and the sailor tramp wanted him."
"He's a good dog all right," agreed Tom. "But it isn't very lucky for him to run away and get lost!"
"'Tisn't his fault!" declared Rick. "That sailor whistled him away. He must have whistled like I do, and Ruddy knew it wasn't Haw-Haw, 'cause the crow was asleep behind the stove. Ruddy ran out when he heard the whistle, and the sailor has him."
"Well, we'll get him back!" cried Chot, fiercely.
Making sure, by calling and whistling, that Ruddy had not come back to the house while he was down street with his boy friends, Rick and his chums started off on the search.
"Can't I come?" asked Mazie, for she loved Ruddy as much as did her brother.
"Oh, no, dear! You can't go off with the boys," said Mrs. Dalton. "They're going across the field, and maybe to the woods. You must be back before dark!" she called to Rick.
"Yes'm, I will—if I find Ruddy!" he answered.
"The first thing we'd better do," suggested Tom, "is to go along the street and ask people we meet. Peter used to run away a lot, and I always got him back that way. He's such a funny-looking dog that everybody remembers him after they have seen him."
"But Ruddy isn't a funny-looking dog," objected Rick.
"No, Ruddy is nice," agreed Tom. "But he isn't like any other dog around here, and if anybody saw an old sailor taking him away they'd remember."
"Yes, I guess they would," admitted Chot. "We'd better ask folks, Rick."
This was decided on, and the three boys began their search, first going up and down the street on which Rick lived. But no one had seen Ruddy running around that afternoon, or at least if they had seen him, they did not remember.
The blacksmith, the cigar-store keeper and the grocery man—each one of whom knew Ruddy—said they had not noticed him. It was not until the boys went in a small candy store, at the foot of the street, that they first obtained any information.
"I didn't exactly see your dog, Rick," said Mrs. Blake, who kept the store. She had come out to wait on the boys, for Rick had three cents and he was treating his chums. "I didn't see your dog Ruddy, but, now that you speak of it, I did see something queer about an hour ago.
"A rag peddler came to ask if I had any papers, old automobile tires or anything like that to sell. As if I'd have an auto!" and Mrs. Blake laughed, for she was rather poor. "However, what I was going to say," she went on, "was that when I looked out toward the rag man's wagon, I saw he had another person with him. There was a big man on the seat, and when I told the junkman I had nothing for him I saw something like a dog, or some animal, down in among the bundles of papers in the wagon. And the man on the seat was trying to keep this dog, or whatever it was, from jumping out."
"Oh, that was Ruddy all right! I'm sure it was!" cried Rick. "That sailor man must have whistled him away and have put him on the junk wagon. He couldn't get Ruddy any other way. The old sailor has my dog!"
"I guess he has!" agreed Tom.
"Which way did the wagon go? Come on, let's chase after it!" cried Chot.
"It was headed down the street when I saw it," answered Mrs. Blake. "But I didn't pay much attention to it. I never thought it might be your dog, Rick."
"I'm sure it was," said the boy. "Oh, I wonder if I can get him back?"
"Sure we can!" cried Tom Martin. "We'll chase after that junk man until we catch him, and then we'll make the sailor give up the dog!"
"Come on!" shouted Chot. "We'll have a regular 'cop and robbers' chase! Come on!"
Rushing out, leaving open the door of the candy shop, the boys hurried down the street, their eyes eager for a sight of a junk wagon in which rode two men and a dog.
"Poor boy!" sighed Mrs. Blake, as she closed the door. "I hope Rick gets back his pet."
Tracing a junk wagon in Belemere was easier than trying to find out from passers by which way a dog had gone. And the boys soon learned that the wagon had turned off on a road that led to the next town.
"Come on!" cried Chot. "I know a short cut we can take across the lots, and get ahead of the junk man. Come on!"
He led Rick and Tom down a lane, past the small electric light station, and out into the field. The boys had not gone very far before Rick cried:
"Say this is a regular swamp! There's a lot of water here!"
"'Tisn't deep!" said Chot. "It won't no more than go over the tops of your shoes! Come on!"
He was in the lead, but the others were close behind him. Suddenly Rick gave a cry.
"What's the matter?" asked Chot, turning toward his chum. "Do you see the junk wagon?"
"No, but I'm sinking down! I'm sinking, Chot! It's way up over the tops of my shoes now! I'm stuck in the mud! I can't pull my feet out!" yelled Rick.
Chot and Tom, who had run on a little ahead of Rick, stopped and looked back at their chum as they heard his cries. Rick had also come to a stop, more because he had to, than because he wanted to.
"Come on back and help me!" he called to his friends.
And the boy's appeal for aid was answered at once by the two chums.
"Say, he is 'way down in the muck!" exclaimed Ted. "Isn't he?"
"He must have walked in the wrong place," added Chot.
However it had happened poor Rick was indeed, as he said, stuck in the mud. His two chums saw this as they ran back to him.
"You got off the path, that's what's the matter!" declared Chot, as he looked at Rick—standing at a safe distance, of course, so that he, too, would not get caught in the swamp.
"You ought to have followed us," went on Ted. "We kept to the path. You got to stay up on one side when you cross this field. There's a sort of brook running through the middle of it, and you can't see it 'till you get right in it."
"Well, I didn't see it, and I'm in it all right," announced Rick. "I can't hardly lift my feet. Look!"
He rested his weight on one side, and tried to lift the opposite foot. There was a sucking sound made, as his shoe came partly up out of the mud, but it was hard work for the boy to pull himself loose.
"Look out!" suddenly called Tom, as he saw Rick tottering as if about to fall to one side. "Look out or you'll go all the way in!"
"That's what I think," agreed Rick himself. "Say, get hold of me and pull me out; will you?"
Tom was going closer, intending to take hold of Rick's outstretched hands, but Chot called sharply:
"Don't do that! If you do you'll be stuck, too!"
"But we got to do something!" insisted Tom. "We can't leave him stuck here!"
"Of course not!" assented Chot. "We'll get you out all right, Rick, and we'll help you find your dog, too. Come on over here, Tom, and help me get a fence rail. We can hold that out to Rick and pull him loose that way!"
Tom and Chot were about a year older than Rick, and knew a little better what to do in a case of this kind than did Ruddy's master.
"Don't be scared," Chot called to his chum, as the two boys walked off up a little hill toward a fence. "We'll get you out all right. I've been stuck in the mud here myself. You can wash your shoes off down in the brook. It isn't very cold to-day."
"My shoes'll be terrible muddy," declared Rick, trying to get a look at them, but he could not—they were too deep down in the muck.
It did not take Tom and Chot long to find a long fence rail that was not too heavy for them to lift. They carried it back to Rick and held out one end to him, retaining hold of the other end themselves.
"Now keep a tight grip, and when we pull, you pull and lift your feet and then you'll be loose," advised Chot.
Rick did his share, the other boys pulled and pretty soon, with another queer, sucking, sighing sound Rick felt his feet coming free from the mud and he could lift them out one after the other. He was glad to see his feet again, muddy as they were, for he was beginning to fear they might sink so far down in the swamp of the field that he would never get them back.
"They're terrible muddy!" spoke Rick as he got on firm ground and looked at his shoes. "Terrible!"
"Yes, but it'll wash off," consoled Chot. "Come on down to the brook, and mind you keep on the path, now! You must have got off or you wouldn't have been stuck."
"I didn't know you had to stay on the path," Rick said.
"Sure you do," declared Chot. "There's a lot of water, a regular bog, under this field. If you get off the path you'll be stuck. Now after you wash your shoes you follow Tom and me."
There was, as Chot had said, a sort of path through the field which a half-hidden brook had turned into a swamp. The path led along on top of numbers of big grass hummocks, or "footstools," as Rick called them. By jumping from one grass hummock to the other the boys could keep out of the mud.
Chot went on ahead, while Rick came next, and Tom brought up the rear guard for Rick. He safely reached the brook, and there he washed the worst of the mud off his shoes. He was thinking what his mother would say when she saw them.
"That's good enough!" declared Chot, after Rick had dabbled each foot in the brook several times. "That's good enough. The rest of the mud'll dry off when we run through the grass. Come on!"
"Yes, we don't want to stop here too long," agreed Rick. "I want to find Ruddy."
"We'll be out on the road soon," said Chot. "If that peddler and the sailor drove out of Belemere they'd have to come over on this road we're coming to. And unless they drove terrible fast we ought to be ahead of 'em."
"Junk wagons don't drive fast," declared Tom. "They stop at every house to buy papers and bottles."
"That's the reason I think we'll get ahead of these fellows," said Chot. "Come on, Rick."
The boy's shoes were fairly clean now, and, as his chums had remarked, they would dry and be cleaned more as he ran through the grass. Once again the chase was taken up. By keeping to the path, and by leaping from hummock to hummock, Rick managed to avoid sinking down in any more bog holes. Soon the three chums came out on the solid road.
Rick looked up and down, hoping to get a sight of the junk wagon in which, he felt sure, was his dog Ruddy, enticed away by the old sailor—the tramp sailor.
Chot began looking down in the dust of the highway, walking back and forth his eyes close to the ground.
"What you doing?" demanded Rick, as he watched his friend. "Did you lose something?"
"I'm looking for wagon tracks," answered Chot.
"Wagon tracks?" cried Rick and Tom together.
"Yes," went on Chot, "but I can't make out whether the junk wagon has been along here or not. There's too many other tracks, and marks of auto tires, besides."
"Do you really think you can tell if the junk wagon has been along here?" asked Rick.
"Well, I thought maybe I could," answered Chot. "You see I belong to the Boy Scouts," he went on, "and we're learning how to tell marks on the ground. Course animal marks, like the paws of a dog, are easier to tell than wagon tracks. But if there was smooth ground here, instead of a lot of dust that other wagons and autos had run over, maybe I could tell if the junk wagon had been along. I could for sure if I knew what kind of marks the tires made."
"But as long as you don't know you can't tell very much," spoke Tom. "But I know that Boy Scout business is good. I'm going to join a troop, I guess."
"But which way shall we go to catch up to that junk wagon and get Ruddy back?" asked Rick. He, too, was interested in Boy Scouts, but not at a time like this. He wanted his dog.
"This is the way the junk man would go after coming from Belemere," announced Chot, pointing down the road. "If he went that way," and he pointed in the opposite direction, "he'd be going back where he came from."
"Then let's chase along!" cried Rick. "I want my dog!"
"That's it!" exclaimed Tom. "We got to catch that junk man!"
"And the sailor," added Rick, "he's the one that's got my dog, I'm sure. The junk man is only giving him a ride so he can get away quicker."
"And is this the sailor that had your dog before he come up out of the ocean and the coast guard found him?" asked Chot.
"I guess so," was Rick's answer as the three boys walked along. "But, anyhow, even if that sailor did have the dog, maybe he hasn't any right to him now. Ruddy came to me. Maybe he ran away from the sailor. And if a dog runs away from a man he doesn't belong to him any more."
I do not say Rick was right in this belief, but his chums thought that he was, for they exclaimed:
"Sure! That's it! He's your dog!"
Along the road they hurried, for it was getting late and Rick's mother had told him to come back home before dark. The highway turned around a clump of trees, where the brook ran close to the road. After that there was a straight stretch for some distance. Reaching this, and looking down it, Rick and his chums saw no junk wagon, and no sight of any dog.
"Maybe he didn't come here at all!" murmured Rick, who was much disappointed.
"We'll ask at the next house," suggested Chot. "If the junk wagon came along here the man would ask to buy old rags or bottles. We'll ask, at the next house, if anybody saw him."
And there they received news which showed them that they were on the right track.
"Yep, a junk peddler was here," said the man who was watering his horse in the barnyard back of the house. "He wanted to buy stuff but I didn't have anything to sell. Sold it all last week."
"Did you see a dog—a sort of reddish-brown dog?" asked Rick eagerly.
"No, I can't say I did," answered the man, who ran a small truck farm. "There was another fellow sitting out in the wagon. But I didn't see any dog."
"Did you hear one?" asked Chot, for he was trying to remember what a Boy Scout would do, and to ask questions that would bring the kind of information needed.
"Did I hear a dog—that's so, I did hear one!" exclaimed the farmer. "Come to think of it I did hear a dog whining and whimpering in the junk wagon. I didn't pay much attention then—though it was only half an hour ago—maybe a little more. But I did hear a dog!"