ON THE SEARCH
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.