"Then it was Ruddy—I'm sure it was!"exclaimed Rick. "Oh, fellows, come on! Maybe we'll have him, soon, now!"

Hardly stopping to thank the man for his news, though Chot did remember to fling back, over his shoulder, a hasty "much obliged," the boys hurried on.

"We're hot on the trail now!" exclaimed Chot, recalling some of the things his Boy Scout friends had said. "We'll get him!"

It was getting dusk now, but the three chums hardly noticed this. Along the road they raced, looking for a sight of the junk wagon. And, as they came to a lonely stretch they saw, off to one side, in a field a small house—a log cabin it really was, and near it stood a ramshackle old vehicle—a junk wagon beyond a doubt.

"Fellows, we've found it!" cried Rick. He pointed toward the old log cabin. Yes, there was no doubt of it. There was the junk wagon, but there was no sign of horse, or men or Ruddy, the dog.

CHAPTER XV
RUDDY AND THE SAILOR

It was not the kind of a whistle with which Rick had been in the habit of calling his dog, nor was it the kind of a whistle that Haw-Haw, the crow, had learned to imitate.

But Ruddy heard the whistle, and instantly he was awake, sitting up with ears lifted to catch the slightest sound. Ruddy looked toward the hedge, for though he could not see very well he could hear better, and smell best of all. And he could hear well enough to know that the whistle came from the other side of the hedge.

Now if dogs think, and I am beginning to believe more and more that they do something very like thinking, Ruddy must have reasoned something like this:

"Hello! Here's Rick home from school ahead of time! He must have been a good boy and the teacher let him out early. Now for some fun!"

Ruddy knew about the time that Rick came home from school each day. Ruddy could tell time a little. I mean, by this, that he knew at about what hour each day certain things would happen. He always knew it was meal time, though of course he could not look at the face of the clock and tell at what hour the hands pointed. I doubt if he could have told which were the clock hands and which were the black figures. But Ruddy knew when it was time for his meals, and he had come to know about the time Rick came home from school each day. And now, as he heard the whistle, the dog thought it was his master who had arrived ahead of the usual hour.

Ruddy was not much surprised at hearing the whistle. True Rick, of late, had given up uttering the shrill call from away down the street as he ran from school. It was this call that Haw-Haw had imitated and so often puzzled the dog. This which Ruddy had heard was a different whistle, such as Rick often used to call his dog back, when the two of them were racing over the fields, and the setter would run too far ahead.

"Now for some fun!" thought Ruddy, in the only way dogs can think. "Rick's home and we'll have a grand race!"

Ruddy must have known it was not the crow whistling this time, though whether he recalled seeing Haw-Haw asleep in the warm corner behind the stove I cannot say.

Anyhow, up jumped Ruddy, and, with a joyous bark, he leaped over the hedge, at a low place, and found himself on the other side.

And then came a big disappointment. For Rick was not there at all. Instead there was a ragged man, a man whose face needed shaving, a man whose scent Ruddy remembered only too well—a man whom the dog feared.

"O ho! You came when I whistled all right; didn't you?" spoke the man in a low voice. "I thought you would! I thought I'd find you if I sneaked around long enough. Now I've got you back, maybe I'll have some luck!"

Ruddy was too surprised and frightened to leap back over the hedge and take refuge in the house of Rick. As soon as he saw the man he remembered, with pain and fear, the days he had spent in the company of the ragged sailor—for this is who the man was.

Ruddy crouched down, growled as was natural at the sight of an enemy, and then he whined, for he saw the man raise his hand and the dog knew what happened when the heavy hand fell.

But this time, for some reason or other, the sailor did not strike the dog. Perhaps he saw that Ruddy was crouching down and was afraid, and thus he knew that he had mastered the poor animal.

"'Tisn't as if you ran away from me!" growled the man. "You didn't do that. A wave carried you overboard, same as it might me. You didn't run away, but now I have you back. I guess I'll have luck from now on, for I'm going to keep you."

Of course Ruddy did not understand this talk. All he knew was that there was the man he had grown, even in a short time, to fear and hate. The very smell of the man was hateful to the dog, for it is by the smell, or personal odor, that a dog remembers his friends and enemies.

After the first fear, the first crouching, growling and then whining Ruddy might have leaped up and gotten away. But a setter is not like many dogs. Ruddy did not have the fierceness of the bulldog, nor the suspicion of a collie. He was an affectionate, loving dog, ready and willing to make friends with everyone who was kind to him, and fearing those who were unkind to him. And that is why, being afraid, he crouched down, and waited for what was to happen, instead of running away.

And, a moment later, the sailor reached down and caught Ruddy up in powerful arms, held one hand around the dog's nose, or muzzle, and hurried with him toward a waiting wagon.

It was a junk wagon, and on the seat was a dirty, ragged man with a straggly black beard. He seemed to be waiting for the sailor, who had jumped off the wagon to take Ruddy.

"I got him!" cried the sailor, as he hastened back to the wagon. "I got him. Maybe, now, I'll have some luck!"

"Um!" was all the junk man answered.

The sailor took a bag from among the bundles of papers, and quickly tied it around Ruddy's head. The poor dog struggled and howled faintly, and even tried to bite the man, as was natural. But he could not get away, and his howls, rather faint as they were, effectually were muffled in the bag.

"There you are!" growled the sailor, as he finished tying the bag around Ruddy's head. "I guess you won't get away! But I'll make sure!"

With some bits of rope, of which there were many in the junk wagon, the sailor tied Ruddy's legs. Then he let the dog stretch out among the old pieces of iron, burst automobile tires, paper and other trash in the junk wagon.

"You won't get away now!" growled the sailor. "Come on! Drive along that old bundle of bones you call a horse!" he ordered the junk man. "We got to get out of here! That boy may be along any minute, and I don't want him to see me!"

"You goin' t' sell de dog?" asked the junk man, who had agreed to help the sailor. On his part the ragged old man of the sea had promised to help the junk man unload his wagon that night. "You goin' t' sell him?"

"Sell him? No, I guess not! Think I want to sell my luck? I never had any luck since this pup was washed overboard! That's why I wanted him back. Now I got him."

"But what good is he if you can't sell him?" asked the junk man. To him everything was measured in value by how cheaply he could buy it and how dearly he could sell.

"Oh, a dog's good for something else than selling," declared the sailor. "They bring you luck! I'm going to keep this one. Course I'll have to watch him that he don't run away, but when I get him on a ship he can't run off. I've got him all right now!"

And, surely enough, the ragged sailor did have Ruddy. It had all happened so quickly—the stopping of the junk wagon outside the Dalton house, the whistling of the sailor, the carrying off of the dog—it had all happened so quickly that Ruddy himself hardly knew all the details.

Mrs. Dalton had not seen Ruddy leap the hedge. She had heard a low whistle, just before Rick came racing home from school, but she had not thought much about it, and she certainly did not know that Ruddy had left the porch, in answer to the call, and had been captured by his enemy.

And now Ruddy was being taken away in the junk wagon.

"Drive along!" ordered the sailor. "I want to get off this street. Too many kids here would know this dog if they saw him; he won't stay covered up!" he exclaimed, for Ruddy was struggling, trying to get his head loose and to work the ropes off his legs, and these struggles disturbed the old sacks the sailor had thrown over the dog to hide him in the bottom of the wagon. "Drive on, fast!" said the sailor.

"But I should must stop and buy things!" declared the junk man. "All right it is for you to say a red dog he brings you luck. He brings no such to me. I of got to buy paper and rags and bottles and old auto tires, and I of got to sell 'em to make money."

"All right, but hurry all you can!" growled the ragged man—in fact they were both ragged men. "I want to get out of town and back to a ship," he added. "Then I'll have some luck!"

And so the ramshackle old wagon rattled down the street, stopping only at Mrs. Blake's candy store, where Rick and his chums received their first clue or information.

Then the junk wagon drove out of Belemere, just as the boys had been told, and as evening was coming on the junk man headed his outfit toward the old log cabin.

"What are you going to do here?" asked the sailor in the gruff, growling voice that seemed natural to him.

"I can leave my horse and wagon here for the night," was the answer. "I do so—lots of times. Nobody ever here comes along—the place is too lonesome."

"Going to leave your horse and wagon here, eh?" spoke the sailor. "What are you going to do? What am I going to do—and the dog?"

"For me, I should go on a little further to a friend of mine in the same business," said the junk dealer. "I can sleep there for the night, and he will make room for you and the dog—cheap, too. You do not of need to feed the dog."

"Well, if you're going on to a friend's place, why don't you drive there and leave your horse and wagon?" asked the sailor. "What's the use of stopping half way?"

The black bearded man smiled to show how very white his teeth were amid his dark whiskers. Then he said:

"You should not of understand. He is a business rival and he might see what I have bought. Besides, anyhow, he maybe would want to sell me some feed for the horse, and I can let him stay here to eat the grass where it doesn't cost even a penny! We leave the horse in the cabin, and the wagon outside. Me, I go to my friend's house and buy my supper and a bed. If you want to sell the dog maybe he'll buy—he buys lots of things."

"No, I'll not sell him," was the gruff, growled answer. "I'm not going to sell my luck. I've got a few shots left in the locker. I can pay for my supper and a bed, and a bone for the dog. I'll go with you."

The junk wagon was driven from the road close to the old log cabin, the horse was turned out to graze on the free grass at the rear of the shack, and the junkman and the sailor started down the road. The sailor took the bag off the dog's head, unbound his legs, and led him along with a cord around his neck. Poor Ruddy slunk along, half dragged by the ragged man. The dog tried to hold back but it was of no use.

CHAPTER XVI
CAMPING OUT

"But maybe Ruddy isn't there," suggested Tom. "I don't see him, and maybe that isn't the junk wagon we're looking for."

"I'm sure it's the right wagon," spoke Rick. "But I don't see Ruddy. And I don't see any horse."

"Whistle for him!" advised Tom.

"Whistle for the horse?" Rick wanted to know.

"Whistle for the dog, I mean. If he's there he'll come out to you. Maybe he's inside the log cabin. I wonder what it's for, anyhow? I have never been over so far on this road before."

"This is a log cabin that a gun club used to use when they shot at targets," said Chot. "Some of us Boy Scouts stopped here one day and cooked our dinner. The gun club doesn't use the cabin any more."

"It'd be a fine place to camp out—if there weren't a lot of junk men in it," declared Tom. "Go on and whistle for your dog, Rick."

"But don't whistle too loud," advised Chot. "If the old junk man, and the sailor who must have rode with him, are there we don't want them to hear us. All we want is the dog."

"That's so," agreed Tom. "Course we ought to have that man arrested for taking Rick's dog. But no use looking for trouble. If we can get Ruddy back that's all we want."

"I'll whistle," offered Rick.

He puckered up his lips and gave a low, but clear call—one he often used to summon Ruddy. But this time there was no answer. Ruddy did not burst out from under a bush, or from among the weeds, as he frequently did, with dried leaves clinging to him when he had nosed in among them seeking the cause of many strange, wild smells.

"Guess Ruddy isn't there," said Rick, with a sigh, after several whistles.

"Come on; let's go up and look!" advised Chot. "Maybe they've got him hidden inside the cabin."

The boys hesitated a moment. They were not very big nor old, and the idea of facing two grown men, one of whom had been bold enough to entice away, or steal, Ruddy, was a little alarming at first.

"Oh, come on!" said Chot, desperately enough. "There's nothing to be afraid of! We got a right to help Rick get back his dog!"

And so, rather timidly it must be admitted, they went through the fence, at the bars where the junk wagon had found a passage, and approached the cabin. They could see the wagon more plainly now. It was filled with odds and ends of the sort of junk which the men who collect it seem to make money on. There were bundles of papers, part of a broken stove, the spring of a bed, some old auto tires and bags of rags.

"It's funny he left it here without the horse," said Tom.

"Maybe his horse lost a shoe, same as an automobile gets a puncture," said Rick, "and he had to take his horse to a blacksmith shop. So he left the wagon here."

"Maybe," agreed Chot. "But blacksmiths aren't open after dark—anyhow the one on our street isn't."

"Well, anyhow here's the wagon, but the horse is gone and so are the men and so's Ruddy!" spoke Tom.

But at that instant there was a noise that seemed to come from behind the cabin. It was a loud noise.

"What's that?" cried Tom.

For a moment his two chums were so startled that they could not answer. Then, as the strange sound came again, Chot said:

"It's just a horse whinneying!"

"The junk man's horse," added Rick.

And so it was. They saw the animal a moment later, tied by a long rope to the back of the log cabin. The horse looked up and stopped chewing a mouthful of grass he had just pulled. He had whinneyed as he heard the footsteps of the boys and their voices. Perhaps the horse thought his master was coming to give him a drink of water or take him to a stable.

However, the junk man's horse went to cropping grass again when he saw that the boys were evidently not coming any nearer to him.

"Ruddy isn't here," announced Rick, looking across the fast-dimming meadow back of the log cabin. Night was falling rapidly now, for the long, summer days were at an end, and autumn would soon give place to winter. "My dog isn't here!" and there was a catch in Rick's voice that sounded as though he were going to cry; but he didn't.

Again Chot was walking around, leaning over close to the ground. Suddenly, out near the place in the fence where the bars had been taken down, to allow the wagon to be driven in, Chot lighted a match.

"He's been here!" he cried, pointing to something in the moist earth. There was a patch where the grass, from the side of the highway, had grown partly over the road. It was a spot seldom touched by horses, autos or wagons. And here the earth was damp because, not far away, was a trickling rill of water. "He's been here!" exclaimed Chot.

"Who?" asked Rick.

"Your dog! I can see the marks of his feet! Look, those are a dog's tracks!"

Surely they were the marks of some animal, and when Rick looked more closely at them, in the light of another flickering match, he knew they were made by a dog's paws.

"I wonder if it could be Ruddy?" he murmured. "I wonder?"

"Sure it was," asserted Chot. "I'm a Boy Scout, and I know a lot of different animals' footprints. I can tell a rabbit's when I see 'em in the snow. This is your dog all right, Rick!"

"But where is he?" asked the boy, whose pet had come to him out of the ocean.

"He must be somewhere around here," spoke Tom. "I guess the junk man and the sailor drove here, and left the wagon for the night. Then they went on somewhere else with your dog."

"But where did they go?" asked Rick.

"That's what we got to find out," said Chot. "I'll tell you what we've got to do," he added, drawing his chums toward him, and speaking in a low voice, though no one but the two boys was within hearing distance, as far as the lads knew. "We got to stay here until that junk man comes back after his horse and wagon. Then we'll make him tell us where the dog is."

"S'posin' he won't?" asked Tom.

"We'll make him! If he hasn't got your dog, Rick, maybe the sailor has, and we'll find out where he went. We've got to stay here until that junk fellow comes back. He'll come all right. He won't go away and leave his horse and wagon."

"Where can we stay?" asked Rick.

"In the log cabin, of course," answered Chot. "Some of the older Boy Scouts camp out here two or three nights. There's a fireplace in the cabin where you can cook, and an old oil stove; and there's some sleeping bunks. Course it isn't real good, but Boy Scouts don't mind."

"Do you mean we should stay camping out here all night?" asked Rick, and his voice had a strange awesome note in it.

"Sure, stay camping here all night—or until the junk man comes back," answered Chot. "Why not?"

"I'd have to ask my mother," Rick said. "I promised to be back before night, and it's almost dark now."

Chot thought this over a moment or two before answering.

"I'll tell you what we can do," he said. "We'll all go back home—we got to get things to eat, anyhow, and some blankets. Then we'll come back here and stay all night."

"All alone?" asked Tom.

"There's three of us," retorted Chot. "I stayed out all night once with some Boy Scouts. Course we had the Scout Master with us——"

"Oh, well, no wonder!" cried Tom.

"Well, maybe I can get our Scout Master to come back with us now and stay all night," went on Chot. "He'd like it. That's what we'll do! We'll go back home, get something to cook for supper, bring some blankets and stay all night. We'll camp out in the log cabin. It'll be lots of fun!"

"Will you sure get the Scout Master?" asked Rick, to whom the idea was appealing more and more strongly.

"Sure I'll get him!" promised Chot. "He'll come. Now come on! Let's hurry back home and get the things."

They started on their way, down the now almost dark road, and then Rick happened to think of something.

"S'posin' the junk man and the sailor come back while we're gone?" he asked. "Then how we going to get Ruddy?"

"I didn't think of that," admitted Chot. "Let's see," he said, musingly. "We passed a house a ways back, just before we saw this cabin. We could stop there and ask 'em to sort of keep an eye on this shack until we get back."

"Yes, we could do that," agreed Rick. "But it's going to take us a long time to go home and come back."

"Oh, maybe we'll get a lift," suggested Chot, always a hopeful sort of chap.

They had better luck than they expected. At the nearest house to the log cabin, where they stopped, they told their story of how they were searching for Ruddy. The place was a farm, and a boy who lived there belonged to the Scouts, though not to the same troop of which Chot was a member.

"I'll go down and keep watch on the place 'till you get back," offered this boy. "And I'll stay with you all night, if dad'll let me."

"That's fine!" exclaimed Rick and his chums echoed this sentiment.

And they had not finished talking about this before the farmer, who had heard their story, not only gave permission for his son to help, and aid in standing guard through the night, but also offered to run Rick, Chot and Tom over to Belemere in his auto.

"I'll bring you back, too!" he said.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find Ruddy now!" declared Rick, who was both excited and delighted.

There was some more excitement when he reached home. His parents were beginning to be alarmed about him. But he quickly told what had happened, and as the Scout Master, summoned by Chot over the telephone, agreed to accompany the boys back to the cabin, Rick was allowed to go with them.

"Oh, I do hope he'll be all right!" said his mother. "He's never been away from home like this before!"

"It will do him good, and we can safely trust him with the Scout Master," said Mr. Dalton.

"Oh! oh!" Mazie had exclaimed when she heard the plans. "Are you going to sleep in the cabin all night, Rick?"

"Well, I won't sleep all night," he answered, as he rolled up his blankets and took his bundle of food. "We got to stay on watch, some of us, to catch the junk man, or the sailor, if he comes back with the junk fellow, to get his horse and wagon. That's how we'll get Ruddy."

"Oh, I want Ruddy! I love him!" said the little girl, and in thinking about the lost dog she did not feel so much fear at having Rick stay away from home over night.

But, even in spite of the confidence Mr. Dalton had in the scout master, Mrs. Dalton was nervous.

"I'll take good care of him—never fear!" Harry Taylor, the Scout Master, promised with a smile, as the boys piled in the auto for the ride back with the farmer. "I won't let him get even the snuffles!"

"That's what I'm afraid of—having him catch cold!" said Rick's mother.

But she wanted her son to be a manly boy, so she let him go. And you may well believe there were joyous hearts in the little party of lads who were on their way to camp in the old log cabin. It was more than a mere camping crowd—they were trying to catch the man who had Rick's dog!

CHAPTER XVII
THE TWO SAILORS

"Don't you know you are hurting me, pulling me along like this? You are almost choking me! If you won't pull so hard I'll come along just the same. Of course I don't want to come with you, for I don't like you. I like Rick, the boy, best. But you are stronger than I am, and we dogs have to do as our masters want, even if we don't like it. But, oh dear! how I wish I were back with Rick!"

That is what Ruddy was most likely saying or thinking to himself as the sailor half dragged him along. The junk man, whose name was Ike Stein, walked on ahead, down the road, after having left his horse and wagon near the old cabin.

"Where's this friend of yours, where we're going to stop all night and have something to eat?" grumbled the sailor as he walked along, pulling Ruddy after him. "Where's his shack?"

"Only a little farther now," the junk man answered. "It's down of the road and over by in the woods. You can't of see it from here, but it isn't far."

And, a little later, the junk man left the road, and started down a path that led across the fields toward a clump of woods. As soon as Ruddy saw this path, and smelled the clean smell of woods and leaves, he gave a little joyous bark.

"Here now! What's the matter with you? Keep still!" growled the sailor, pulling on the rope around the dog's neck.

Poor Ruddy's tail dropped and he crouched down, for he feared he was going to be struck. But the sailor was not quite as bad as that. He rather cared for the dog, in a way, though he did not know how to be really kind to animals. Some men and boys are that way, and I am sorry for them. It is wonderful to know how to love animals, and have them care for you.

So the sailor growled and shook his finger at Ruddy to make him keep still, and Ruddy whimpered and did not bark again.

"First thing I know you'll be bringing a crowd around us, and somebody may take you away from me," grumbled the ragged man. "I don't want that. I don't want to lose my luck again."

And the only reason Ruddy had barked half-joyously when he smelled the woods was that he remembered how he and Rick had used to romp among the trees and dried leaves, having glorious times.

"Come along now!" growled the sailor, and again he jerked on the rope around Ruddy's neck. "How much farther is it?" he asked of the junk man.

"Oh, just a little ways," was the answer. "We'll of come to the house in a minute." He looked behind him, as if to make sure no one was following, and then added in a whisper: "My friend, he lives down in an old house away off in the trees. He doesn't of want anybody to know he's there."

"Oh, I see!" exclaimed the sailor. "Sort of hiding away, is he? Well, I've done that myself."

They walked on a little farther, the sailor still dragging Ruddy along, and at last the two men pushed their way through some bushes and came to an old, tumble-down house, that did not seem a much better place to sleep in than was the old log cabin.

"Here we are," said Ike Stein, the junk man. "Here we are!"

The sailor looked about him, shook his head once or twice, and then said:

"Well, I guess we can stand it here for one night, eh, Ruddy?"

He called the dog the same name as did Rick—the name that just seemed to fit the setter. And Ruddy looked up and wagged his tail just a little, for these were the first kind words the sailor had spoken to him.

"Yes, I guess we can stand it here one night," went on the ragged sailor. "Where's your friend?" he asked the junk man, "and where's something to eat for me, and a bone for my dog?"

"Oh, my friend he will of be right out," promised Ike Stein, rubbing his hands as though giving them a dry wash to get off some of the dirt. "He's most probable of looking at us now from one of the windows."

"Oh, he is, eh? Spying like! Well, I don't see him!" said the sailor glancing from one broken window to another.

"No, Sam doesn't like to be seen until he sees who his company of is. But he knows me all right. Hello, Sam!" he called and a voice answered:

"Hello, Ikey!"

Then from the old, ramshackle house there came a man who looked almost like the junk peddler, except that he was not as clean, if such a thing could be, and his beard was longer and blacker.

"Here's a friend of mine, Sam," went on Ikey. "We have come to stay all night and have supper. We'll pay, of course," he added, for he saw that Sam was going to say something.

"Oh, sure you may stay—if you pay!" spoke the man who lived in the tumble-down shack. "Did you bring your horse and wagon?" he asked.

"I left them down the road," answered the junk man. "Now we of are hungry."

"And so is the dog, I expect," growled the sailor. "Give him a bone—Sam."

"A bone? A bone for the dog? It should of cost you five cents, or for a bigger one ten cents," was the answer.

"Well, give Ruddy a ten cent bone!" exclaimed the sailor. "Here's your money," and, dipping his hand down in his ragged trousers, as though he were diving into the water, he fished up a dime, which he threw to the junk man's friend.

The second ragged man—whose name was Sam, went into his house and came out with a bone which he threw down in front of Ruddy, who, by this time, had been tied to a post in the yard.

"Hum!" mumbled the sailor, as he looked at the bone. "It's a good thing I bought a ten cent one. If you'd handed out a fiver there wouldn't have been enough meat on for a spider crab. Well, now the dog's eatin' let's us eat!"

"Right away!" promised Sam, and he led the way into the house.

"Mind you don't try to run away from me again!" growled the sailor, shaking his finger at Ruddy.

The poor dog, smelling a little good meat on the bone, had lain down with it between his fore paws and was gnawing it. He had no intention of running away just then. He was too hungry, and this was his supper. It was not like the good supper he would have had at home in his kennel, where Rick always fed him. But it must answer now.

Sailor Matt Stanton looked around the old ramshackle house as he and the junk man entered. It appeared to be filled with the same sort of trash and odds and ends that Ike gathered in his wagon. Sam Levy was in the junk business also, only he bought the things the other men gathered up in their wagons, and sold them to the larger dealers in bottles, rags and paper. He was a wholesale junk dealer and the others were retailers, you might say.

The three men went to the kitchen of the old house, and Sam began to cook a meal. It was now quite dark, and a lantern hung on the wall did not give a very good light.

Sailor Matt looked about him while waiting for his meal. He saw piles of rags, larger stacks of papers, old pieces of iron, torn automobile tires and other junk.

"I only do a small business," said Sam, looking around from where he was bending over the stove, making some sort of a stew in a broken kettle. "I only been here a little while. Lots of folks don't know I'm here at all—only my friends, like Iky and you."

"You needn't call me a friend," growled the sailor. "I ain't friends with nobody since I got out of luck losing my dog. NowI have him back maybe I'll get a ship, and start over again."

"Maybe," muttered Sam, "and maybe we should of be friends. If you got anything to sell I gives you a good price."

"I've got nothing to sell, and not much money to buy anything," grumbled the sailor. "But I got enough for a meal. Hurry it up!"

"Sure, it'll be ready in a minute!" promised Sam.

He was stirring the contents of the broken kettle when a step was heard outside. Instantly the three men looked around, and Sam stopped rattling the long-handled spoon.

"Somebody's comin'!" whispered Ike Stein.

Sailor Matt Stanton got up from a pile of rags and started toward the door. As he reached it a man came in; a man who, it could be seen almost at first glance, was a sailor like himself.

"What ho, mate!" cried the newcomer in a jolly voice. "Well, well! To think of finding my old sailing chum here! Shake, Matt! How are you and what's the matter with the dog howling out in the yard?"

He clapped on the back the ragged sailor who had taken Ruddy away from Rick.

"Hush! Not so loud!" exclaimed Sailor Matt, in a hoarse whisper. "Keep still, Jed Porter! Keep still!"

"What for?" asked the sailor called Jed. "Why should I keep still? Anybody would think you were afraid of being found out!" And he laughed heartily, at which sound the junk man quickly pulled down a window while Sam hurried from the stove and shut the door that had been left open.

The two sailors stood looking at one another, while out in the yard poor Ruddy howled and whimpered.

CHAPTER XVIII
SCOUTS ON THE WATCH

"And I'll help," said a voice in the door-way of the log cabin. Sam Brown, son of the farmer who had taken the boys to Belemere and brought them back, had come to join the others as he had promised. He was going to do what he could to help get Ruddy back for Rick.

"That's right," said Master Harry Taylor, "each Boy Scout must do his part when camp is to be made."

Several lanterns had been brought with them, and, by the light of one, Rick and Tom gathered some wood outside to make a fire on the hearth. Chot and Sam did what they could to set the interior of the log cabin to rights, and Mr. Taylor opened the bundles of food and filled the oil stove from a kerosene can he had brought with him.

Each boy had a "mess" outfit, consisting of tin cup and plate, a knife, fork and spoon and a small frying pan. Chot had borrowed an outfit from a boy friend, for Rick, as Ruddy's master, was not yet a Scout.

In a little while a fire was blazing on the hearth, and the steaks which had been brought were being cooked by Mr. Taylor over the hot embers. He decided to do this himself rather than trust the boys, for if the meat were spoiled in the broiling some one would have to go hungry, no extra supply having been provided. The coffee was made on the oil stove.

"Say, this is fun!" exclaimed Rick, as they sat about the old table and ate off their tin plates. "I didn't think being a Boy Scout was half so jolly!"

"Oh, you haven't seen a quarter of it!" declared Chot. "Wait until you camp out in the open; eh, Mr. Taylor?"

"Yes, that is quite different from this," answered the Scout Master. "This is quite a luxury, having a log cabin, even if it is an old ramshackle one."

"Oh, I'm going to do this every time I have the chance," said Rick. "But just now I want to find Ruddy."

"And we're here to help you," said Mr. Taylor, who though older than any of the boys was still "one of them." If he had not been he would never have developed into a good Scout Master. "I think the best we can do," he added, "is to keep watch. As you boys said, the junk man will probably come back, either to-night or early in the morning, to get his horse and wagon. When he does we will ask him what he did with Ruddy."

"I think the sailor took him," Rick said.

"Well, perhaps he did. We'll find out. And to do that we'll have to keep watch. We'll take turns, as sentries do in the army. After we finish eating and get the bunks ready we'll divide into watches."

"Oh, this sure is fun!" cried Rick, with eager, sparkling eyes. The novelty of camping almost made him forget, at moments, the loss of Ruddy. But not quite.

"I can't see why the junk man left his horse and wagon here and went away," said the Scout Master, as the rattle of knives and forks on the tin plates told that little more remained to be eaten.

"Maybe he ran away because he was afraid of being caught," suggested Chot.

"No, I think not," spoke Sam Brown. "There's another junk man located somewhere around here. He hasn't been here long, and he stays in an old tumble-down house near the swamp, I guess. There used to be gypsies there, but they went away."

"Do you think the sailor took my dog there?" asked Rick.

"Maybe," answered Sam. "We can look."

"But I think it would not be wise for us to go there to-night," remarked the Scout Master, as he guessed what Rick was going to say. "Those men could easily hide Ruddy in the darkness. The safest and best plan will be to wait for them to come here, as they are sure to do."

Rick, who was going to become a Boy Scout, did as all members of those troops do—he obeyed the Scout Master, and then began the long watch and wait through the night.

The boys had brought blankets, and with these the beds were made up on the bunks which the former gun club members had built in the log cabin so some of them could sleep there when they wished.

As two of the boys would be on guard at a time, taking turns in two hour stretches, while the others would be in the bunks at the same period, there were blankets enough to keep them warm, especially as they were under shelter, rude as it was.

"But if we had to sleep out in the open, we would have made a lean-to, or a wickiup, near a camp fire, and that would have kept us warm," said Chot.

"What's a lean-to and a wickiup?" asked Rick.

"A lean-to," explained the Scout Master, "is just some tree branches laid with one end raised over a pole, like the half of a letter V turned upside down. If you build a fire in front of it you can keep pretty warm. A wickiup is just some branches of low bushes or small trees bent in toward the center, and there fastened together, or you can throw a heavy blanket over them. They are both pretty poor shelters, but they're better than nothing."

And so, after the supper detail had been cleared, and the bunks made, the boys and the Scout Master sat about the fire on the hearth, talking. The heat felt comfortable, for the night was growing colder.

"Do you think we'll find Ruddy?" asked Rick more than once.

"I think so," answered Mr. Taylor. "If that junk man doesn't come back after his wagon and horse we'll go looking, in the morning, for the old house in the swamp."

The junk man's horse had been brought around from in back, and tied near the front of the cabin.

"We can tell the moment he comes after him, if the animal is left here," said the Scout Master. "And he can't move his wagon, even in the dark, without us hearing him."

"The bells will jingle," said Tom. For the junk man, like many of his kind, had a string of jangling cowbells fastened to his wagon.

It was the turn of Chot and Tom to stand the first "trick" of night guard duty, and this was to be from ten to twelve o'clock. Rick and Sam would take the second watch, from midnight until 2 o'clock in the morning, and the Scout Master, and Sam's brother, Pete, who had come over after supper to ask if he couldn't share in the fun, would be on guard from two until four o'clock. After that it would be the turn of Chot and Tom again.

"Hark!" exclaimed Rick, as he and Sam were preparing to turn-in to the bunks where they were to sleep. "I thought I heard something!"

They all listened, but the only noises were those made by the chirping of the crickets and the songs of some late-staying Katy-dids.

"I guess the junk man's horse moved around," suggested the Scout Master with a smile. "Don't be too quick to give an alarm, when you're on watch, if you hear an odd noise. First try to find out what it is."

Then, as night settled down over the lonely log cabin, and the others went to their bunks, Tom and Chot began their tour of guard duty. They could spend it outside or inside the cabin as they chose, and, as it was rather cool, they would probably be most of the time inside.

"But you can hear if the junk man comes back," said Mr. Taylor. "And, if he does, sound the alarm."

And so the watch of the night began. Rick found it hard to go to sleep at first, not being used to this bunk style of bed. But Sam and his brother Pete were soon breathing heavily and regular, which showed they were not lying awake. As for the Scout Master, he seemed to have dropped off into slumber as soon as he wrapped up in his blanket.

But at last Rick's eyes closed and he, too, was soon, if not in Dreamland, next door to it.

But while the boys were in the old log cabin, quite a different scene was taking place in the ramshackle house where the sailor had taken Ruddy, tying the dog outside. When the second sailor appeared, making so much noise that the others were afraid, for some reason or other, Ruddy had whimpered in lonesomeness and fear.

"What you going to do with that dog?" asked Jed Porter, the second sailor.

"I got him for a mascot—to bring me good luck!" answered Matt Stanton. "And if anybody takes him away from me I'll——"

"Not so loud! Don't make so much noise, mine friends!" whispered Sam Levy. "I don't want the farmers around to know I do a junk business here. They think this old place has of nobody to live in it. I don't want them to come and bother me."

"You see, sometimes, by mistakes, my friend he of gets things here that belongs to the farmers," explained Ike Stein, the driver of the junk wagon. "So as he doesn't want to be boddered with farmers of coming here to look for maybe their chickens or ducks."

"Oh, so that's what you do!" exclaimed Jed Porter, who had a broad, smiling face, quite different from the rather sneaking looks of Matt Stanton. "Well, it isn't any of my affairs, of course. I'm not going to stay, anyhow. I just happened to be passing and I saw a gleam of light through the trees, so I walked over to see what it was. I'm hungry!"

"The meal, he will be ready soon," said Sam. "Your friend, he should of pay for you; will he?" and he looked at the second sailor as he asked this question.

"He might pay it with some of the money he took from me," growled Jed, "but I don't s'pose he will! I'll pay for myself!"

"I'll pay you back as soon as I have better luck, and I will have it now I've got the dog," whined Matt. He acted as though afraid of the other sailor, and well he might be for he had not been honest with Jed, and had taken some of Jed's money.

"Now don't laugh with such a loudness, and make so much of noiseness," whispered the old man who lived in the ruin of a house. "We don't want anybody coming here!"

"All right," agreed Jed, as he sat down and began to eat, while the others did the same.

The two junk men talked together in low tones after supper. Matt, the ragged sailor, stretched out on a bundle of rags as if to go to sleep. Jed took a piece of newspaper from his pocket and began to read by the light of a smoking lamp, and poor Ruddy whined and whimpered outside.

After a while Sailor Jed got up and started for the door.

"Where you going?" demanded Matt.

"Out for a breath of fresh air," was the answer. "Too hot in here."

"Take the dog a bone," requested Matt. "I guess he's hungry. He can have the one I left on my plate," he added quickly, as he saw that Sam was going to object.

"Guess there isn't much meat on any bone you picked!" was the remark of Jed. "But I'll give it to him."

He carried the bone out to Ruddy, who cringed low when he dimly saw, and heard, and keenly smelled the man coming toward him.

"Poor fellow!" spoke the sailor in a low, kind voice. "You needn't be afraid of me. I won't hurt you. I love dogs, and I'm sorry Matt Stanton has you. He won't exactly kick or beat you, but he won't be kind to you. And you look as if you had come from a better home than he'll ever give you."

Jed looked back toward the house where the light dimly glowed. Then he looked down at the cringing dog, tied by a heavy rope.

"I'll do it!" suddenly whispered the sailor to himself. "I'll do it! 'Tis a shame to let Matt keep you. I wonder, if I cut you loose, if you can find your way home? I'll try it."

He whipped out his knife, and, with one sweep, cut through the rope, close to where it was tied around Ruddy's neck. The dog felt that he was free. He could scarcely believe it.

Pausing only long enough to lick the hand of the sailor who had thus been so good to him, Ruddy, with a low whine of delight, sped away in the darkness of the night.

CHAPTER XIX
A BARK IN THE NIGHT

"Yes, he's all right," and Jed smiled, but not so Matt could see him. "I hope he'll be more all right than he would be with you," he thought to himself.

And now we must follow Ruddy for a while, until we see what happens to him.

Ruddy's nose was as keen on the scent as ever, in fact more so, for now he was eager to get back to Rick, the boy master whom he loved so well. And, though it was dark, Ruddy had hopes of finding Rick.

As I have told you dogs can not see very well, and they can not hear as well as can some other animals. But their sense of smell is wonderful, and it was on this that the setter depended to take him back to home and Rick.

So, in a way, it did not matter much about the dark. It was better for him that it was dark, as the sailor who had taken him from Rick's house would not see the brown dog running away.

"Ha! This is the path I came! This is where he dragged me with a rope around my neck after he took me out of the wagon," said Ruddy to himself, dog fashion, as he ran along in the darkness, his nose close to the ground. I don't mean, of course, that Ruddy said that out loud, or that he even thought it, as you or I would think it. But he thought, and he knew, in his own dog way, that he was on the right track back toward the place where he had been taken out of the wagon.

By running with his nose close to the ground Ruddy could smell where his own paws had left a scent on the earth. He could also catch the scent of the junk man and the sailor who had walked along with him. And Ruddy's nose was so keen that he could tell where the sailor had stepped and where the junk man had left his shoe marks on the roadside path. To Ruddy each person had a different scent, just as to us, even over a telephone when we can not see them, each of our friends has a different voice.

"Yes, this is where they led me along, after they took me out of the wagon," thought Ruddy, dog fashion. "I'll soon get back to that place. Then—well, after that, I'll have to do the best I can."

Ruddy was doing what is called, by hunters, "back-tracking." That is he was following the scent back to the place where it had started from. In running after game birds, and animals, Ruddy, or any other dog used for that kind of sport, generally does just the opposite. That is they follow the scent along until they get to the place where the rabbit, squirrel or bird has gone, and not to the place where they have come from. Once in a while, though, a hunting dog will make a mistake and "back-track" when he ought to "front-track." A dog that does this is not of much value to a hunter, for the man with the gun wants to go where the game is, not where it isn't.

So Ruddy, running through the night, with his nose to the ground, traced his way along the path where he had been led with the rope around his neck. As yet he had caught no scent of his master, for Rick and his friends had not come this far. They had not gone more than a hundred feet beyond the old cabin, after seeing there the junk man's horse and wagon.

"I certainly want to find Rick," was the thought that kept coming again and again into Ruddy's mind. "I want to find that Boy!"

Once or twice Ruddy got off the trail. He was a young setter, and they often make mistakes. And the errors Ruddy made were because other dogs and different animals had crossed his tracks since he had made them.

Twice he caught the scent of other dogs. Who they were he did not know, of course, being a stranger in the neighborhood. But they probably were animals living on the farms nearby; and they had crossed Ruddy's trail, very likely catching a whiff of his scent as he did of theirs.

Once Ruddy caught the odor of a rabbit which had leaped across the road to get a drink of water from a spring that bubbled up under a rock. At any other time Ruddy would have followed this trail of the rabbit, barking joyously to call Rick to follow. That is Ruddy would have done this if his boy master had been with him.

But it was no time, now, to be chasing after rabbits.

And once the brown setter caught the scent of a squirrel that had leaped down out of a tree after a nut it had dropped. For a moment Ruddy stopped, and lifted his nose in the air. He had a notion he would like to trail that squirrel, and find where it had its nest in a hollow tree. True the nest would be high up, out of Ruddy's reach, for the dog could not climb like a cat. But if Ruddy trailed the squirrel to its tree the dog could bark joyously at the foot, to show he had done his work well.

But it was no time, now, to be chasing after squirrels.

So Ruddy shook his head, sneezed a little as if to get the smell of the rabbit and squirrel out of his delicate nose and ran on. He was hungry, for there had not been much meat, even on the ten cent bone, but Ruddy forgot his hunger in his great desire to get back to Rick.

And he was weary, for he had not been kindly treated after the sailor had tied him in the junk wagon. But he forgot about being tied, also as he hurried on through the night.

Along the silent country road he went, up the hill, still keeping his nose close to the ground so as not to lose his own scent. It was still "warm." That is it had been made within a few hours. And the longer a scent lies on the ground the harder it is for a dog to trace it. That is why dogs are said to be "hot on the scent," the meaning being that the game has passed along only a little while before.

It is supposed that rabbits, squirrels and other animals each have a scent of their own, and it clings to the ground for some time, even as the smell of perfume clings to a handkerchief after it has been washed.

Pretty soon Ruddy came within sight of the old log cabin. He knew when he was there even before he could see it, for he could smell it, and smell the place where he had walked near it.

But besides this smell there was another. The smell of boys and a man. And among the boys' odors was one that made Ruddy's heart beat faster as he caught it.

It was not the scent of Rick, for the boy master of the dog was inside the cabin, whence the odor did not come out so plainly. But Ruddy caught the smell of Chot, with whom he had played almost as often as he had with Rick.

"Here's a friend of mine! Here he is!" Ruddy would have said, if he could have talked our language. "I know that smell! It's almost the same as Rick's! Oh, I wonder where Rick is?"

And then Ruddy raised his head and gave a bark—a short, sharp joyous bark in the night. A bark that said, as plainly as could be said:

"Here I am, Rick! Where are you! I smell a smell I know—a smell that seems to be a part of you! Where are you, Rick?"

CHAPTER XX
OVER THE SNOW

They heard noises—plenty of them—noises of the night, but they were not strange to these boys who had lived much of their lives in what was part country and part town.

There were the chirp of the crickets, the disputing calls of the Katy-dids and the Katy-didn'ts, the whistling call of the tree toad and, now and then, the distant bark of a dog. As I have told you, the sound of a dog's bark carries a long way, especially at night.

"Wonder if that's Rick's dog?" asked Tom of his chum in a low voice as they met in front of the log cabin door.

"It might be," agreed Chot. "I hope we can get Ruddy back."

"So do I," added Tom.

The two boys had divided the cabin neighborhood into two sections. Each one walked half way around the shack at intervals, so that part of the time they met in back, and part of the time in front, like two coast guards meeting each other on their beach patrols.

After a while it grew more silent as the creatures of the night ceased their calling, and seemed to go to sleep. It was colder, too, and Tom and Chot were glad they had put on warm clothes. But they rather liked the time they were having. As Boy Scouts they had often camped out, but never for the reason they were now doing it—to help a chum get back his dog.

"Well, our time is 'most up," remarked Tom, as he looked at the radium-dial of a wrist watch his father had given him. "It'll soon be twelve," he added.

"Then Rick and Sam will come out," spoke Chot. "Wouldn't it be funny if Rick should find his own dog when it was his turn to be on guard."

"It would be dandy!" said Tom. "But I guess——"

All at once the two boys heard a little crackling and rustling in the bushes which grew almost up to the old log cabin.

"Someone's coming!" whispered Chot.

"Yes," agreed Tom, in a low voice. "I wonder who it is?"

And just then there came the bark of a dog close at hand—the bark of a dog in the night.

Hearing it so near, Tom and Chot, for the moment, were quite startled. Then Chot exclaimed:

"It sounds just like Ruddy!"

He spoke aloud and the dog heard him—heard his own name. This was enough for the brown setter, for he it was who had barked. He had smelled his way back along the path over which the sailor had led him, until he reached the log cabin. Then had come to him the odor he knew so well—the scent of Chot with whom Ruddy had romped and played.

Then Ruddy barked loudly—the first, real bark he had given since he had been cut loose by the good sailor. And it was this bark that Chot and Tom heard.

"Do you s'pose it is Ruddy?" asked Tom.

"I hope so," murmured Chot.

Then the dog heard more plainly the voices—the voices of boys whom he knew. It was almost as good as if he had heard Rick's voice.

Once more Ruddy barked, and then he sprang forward, straight toward the cabin and the two lads on guard. Dimly, in the darkness of the night, Tom and Chot saw a dog bounding toward them, along the path that led to the front door of the old cabin.

"There he is!" cried Tom.

For a moment Chot thought perhaps it might be some other dog, maybe some half-wild sheep-killing dog that had come to dispute with them for the possession of the old cabin. But, an instant later, Ruddy was leaping and barking about his two friends, trying to get into their very arms, it seemed, he was so glad to be back with them again.

And how he did bark!

"Where's Rick? Where's that boy Rick?" Ruddy seemed to be saying.

"Oh, Ruddy! You did come back! We've found you! Rick will be so glad!" cried Tom. "We must tell Rick that Ruddy is back!" he added.

Chot rushed into the cabin and shook Rick, who was asleep in one of the bunks.

"Get up! Get up, Rick!" Chot called.

Slowly and sleepily Rick opened his eyes.

"What's the matter? Is it my turn to stand watch?" he asked.

And then he was almost smothered by the rush of Ruddy, who fairly threw himself upon the bunk which held his master, and the dog filled the cabin with his loud bark, so that Scout Master Taylor and the other boys were awakened.

"What is it? What's the matter?" asked the Scout Master, for he slept off in one corner, and all he could see, in the dim light of the lantern, was a mass of moving forms—several boys and a dog.

"Ruddy's come back!" cried Tom. "Ruddy is here!"

"He came up to us when we were on guard outside," explained Chot. "And he barked!"

"Is it really Ruddy?" asked Mr. Taylor.

"Oh, yes, it's Ruddy! It's my dog all right!" cried Rick. And it needed but one look to show how glad the dog and his boy-master were to be together again.

Then the lantern was turned higher and, when matters had quieted down a little, it was seen that Ruddy carried around his neck a collar of rope.

"He's been tied up!" exclaimed Rick. "The sailor and the junk man must have tied him up so he couldn't get away."

"And he broke loose," said Tom.

"No, this rope has been cut," said the Scout Master, as he looked carefully at the end of the heavy cord on the dog's neck. "This has been cut by a sharp knife. If some one tied Ruddy up some one cut him loose."

And so, without having seen it done, Mr. Taylor told exactly what had happened. He had read the "signs," just as Indians and scouts of the plains used to read signs, and as Boy Scouts of to-day are learning to do.

"Ruddy had a regular collar on," said Rick, as he looked at the harsh rope around his pet's neck. "I wonder where it is?"

"Well, I guess the junk man took it off to sell it," said Sam Brown. "Those fellows will sell anything they get that way."

"I'll cut this rope off," went on Rick. "It may hurt him."

"Hadn't you better leave it on?" asked Tom. "You'll want to tie him up, Rick, so he won't be taken away again."

"Oh, I guess nobody will take him now!" boasted Rick. "He'll stay right in here the rest of the night."

And that is what Ruddy did. The dog was given some food and water and then he lay down beneath Rick's bunk and refused to move from there. Ruddy knew when he had found what he wanted.

Of course there was no more need of standing guard that night. As the recovery of Ruddy was all that was desired, Mr. Taylor said there was no use in sitting up, just to catch the junk man and sailor.

"We have your dog," he said to Rick, "and the most we could do would be to have the men arrested. And perhaps it would be hard to prove that they really enticed Ruddy away. So let them go, if they come."

But they did not return during the night, neither the sailor, nor the junk man after his horse and wagon. For the rather bony steed was still tied to the old log cabin and the wagon load of junk was in the grass-grown yard in the morning.