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Rick and Ruddy

<h3>CHAPTER VII WHY DID RUDDY GROWL?</h3> Rick and Ruddy tramped together along the path that led out of the woods, Rick carrying the crow, which he had already named Haw-Haw. The black bird, wild at first when the boy had taken it up, was now more quiet, as Rick held it under one arm. But Rick could feel its heart beating fast beneath the glossy feathers. Ruddy trotted along, now and then looking up at his master, as if trying to guess what it was all about. Perhaps the setter was wondering if Rick, in caring for this new, strange pet, would no longer go on romps and tramps in the woods with the dog who so loved to be among the trees and the dried leaves, looking for birds. It was the nature of Ruddy to hunt birds, not for himself but for whoever was his master. So, in a way, it seemed perfectly right for Rick to be taking home this bird, even if it was only a crow. Ruddy was an Irish setter, one of the three varieties of setter dogs much used for hunting. Ruddy's coat was like his name, a rich dark red in color. The Gordon setter has a black coat, marked with dark brown, and the English setter is nearly white, with mottled spots of different color. A hundred years ago, when men used to spread nets to catch birds, when they could not shoot them because they had not then the right kind of guns, dogs like Ruddy were used to help the hunters. The setters were taught to go in the underbrush, find the game birds, come to a "point"—that is point their noses toward where they saw the quail, grouse or pheasants, and then the dogs crouched down, or "set," as the English hunters called it. That is how the "setter" dog got its name. It would "set," or lie down low, in the grass, so the net of the hunter could be thrown over its head to enmesh the half-hidden birds. Ruddy had never helped hunt birds with a net, but, years back, his ancestors had, and the name clung to him. So, also, did the love of hunting in the woods. To chase birds, to bark at them, to love to see them scurry away as he ran toward them was as natural to Ruddy as it is natural for a bulldog to hold fast to whatever he gets between his jaws. And so, as Ruddy walked along beside Rick, the red setter was thinking: "Well, my master caught one bird, anyhow. That is doing very well for a starter. Maybe to-morrow we shall go to the woods again, and I'll find more birds for him to catch." For, really, if it had not been that Ruddy frightened the crow into fluttering off the branch where it had taken refuge, after being shot, Rick might never have found it. "Dear me! Where have you been?" cried Rick's mother, as he came marching into the yard, carrying the crow and followed by Ruddy. "I was off in the woods," answered the boy. "And I was lost, but Ruddy showed me the way home." "Lost! Oh, Rick! You mustn't go to the woods alone and get lost!" "I wasn't alone," he answered. "Ruddy was with me. I can't get lost with him. He always will know the way back, I guess. But I didn't see Chot." "No, he came, after you had gone, to say he couldn't meet you in the woods," said Mrs. Dalton. "I thought you would come right back when you didn't find him. You stayed so long that I was getting afraid. I was just going to send your father after you." "I was afraid myself," spoke Rick. "But Ruddy is a good dog. He didn't know what I meant first, when I told him to go home, after I couldn't tell where the path was. But, after a while, he knew what I said and he led me straight." "What you got?" asked Mazie, seeing the black, feathered creature in her brother's hands. "It's a crow. Ruddy found it and I picked it up before he could bite it. Its wing is broken but maybe we can fix it. I'm going to teach it to talk." "Crows don't talk—only parrots," said Mazie. "Yes, they do—don't crows talk?" asked Rick of his father, who came out in the yard just then. "Yes, I have heard them say a few words, and also whistle," said Mr. Dalton. "Not all of them talk as well as do parrots, but you can understand some of the things crows say." "You have to slit their tongues to make 'em talk," went on Rick. "Chot Benson told me so. He doesn't know I got this crow, but I'll tell him after supper. Maybe he knows how to cut their tongues." "No, you mustn't cut the crow's tongue," said Mr. Dalton. "It is a cruel superstition to say that slitting a crow's tongue makes it talk. Not all crows can say words, but those that do, will say them just as well with a whole tongue as with one cut down the middle. Leave your crow's tongue alone, Rick, if you are going to keep him." "Oh, I'm going to keep him!" declared the boy. "I'm going to have him for a pet same as I have Ruddy. But I'm glad I don't have to slit his tongue. Do you think you can fix his broken wing, Daddy?" "Well, perhaps we can put it in splints so the bones will grow together," answered his father. "But I'm afraid the crow will never fly again. It may be able to flutter about, and it surely can walk, for its legs are all right," said Mr. Dalton, as he took the black bird from Rick. "But its flying days are over." "Then it won't fly away from me," said the boy. "I'll make a nest for it in the woodshed, and then I'll teach it to talk." "That may take you a long time," said his father, "and this may be the sort of crow that never says any words. But you can try." "And now it's time for supper," exclaimed Rick's mother. "It has been waiting long enough, and it's almost dark." "Ruddy wants his supper, too," said his master. "Tie him up and I'll feed him after I feed you," promised Mrs. Dalton with a laugh. Though not very fond of dogs she was beginning to love Rick's pet that had come to him out of the ocean, and Ruddy knew how to appreciate the kindness of his master's mother in giving him clean food and water, and choice bones to gnaw when he had nothing else to do. The crow was put in a box filled with soft, dried grass. A tin can of water was hung on the side, so Haw-Haw could reach it without knocking it over. And then he was left to himself in the woodshed. Ruddy was tied in his kennel, and he stretched out with his muzzle between his forepaws, thinking over what had happened that day. It had been one filled with delight and adventures, and Ruddy was wishing, with all his warm, dog's heart, for another day like it. To Rick the great adventure had been getting lost, but this, to Ruddy, was nothing. The dog had not been lost at all. He knew his way back home all the while. While Rick, Mazie and the others were eating supper, and Rick was telling all that had happened, and how he found Haw-Haw, his dog lay out in the kennel. It was a soft, warm evening, one of the sort that come in Indian Summer, and Ruddy was sniffing many odors that reached his sharp nose. Suddenly he smelled—cat. Quickly his head was raised. Yes, there was a cat who had leaped up on the back fence. It was Sallie from next door. For a moment Ruddy had a wild notion of springing up and chasing after Sallie as he had done that first day he came to live with Rick. Then, as the dog felt the collar about his neck, and as the chain by which he was fastened to the kennel gave a rattle, he knew that it would have been of no use to get up. The chain would stop him after he had gone a few feet. Ruddy settled back on the ground. The cat—having heard the dog's chain rattle, and knowing the setter could not get her (for Sallie was a wise cat)—did not run away as fast as she had run the other time. Nor did she climb a tree. Sallie just walked along the fence, to see another cat perhaps, and Ruddy stretched out, sniffing the many odors that came to his fine, sharply-pointed nose. The cat smell passed away with the night wind. Suddenly, as it grew darker, to the nose of the dog came another smell. It was a smell that made him leap up with a deep growl in his throat. It was the smell Ruddy did not like, for it brought back to him the memory of a man who had been cruel to him—a man who had beaten and kicked him—who had filled his puppy days with misery. And now, on the soft airs of the autumn night that terrible man-smell came to Ruddy. He stood up, sniffed again and again, and the growl in his throat became deeper. And to Ruddy there also came the sound of someone walking softly around the yard fence—the footsteps of a man who did not want to be discovered. The setter leaped to the length of his chain and his growl became a bark. Rick, who was coming out of the house after supper, heard this, and hastened to his dog's kennel. He heard Ruddy rumbling in his throat. "What's the matter, old fellow? Why are you growling?" asked Rick. Of course the different smells on the night air meant nothing to him. Though a boy's nose is very good for smelling a pie baking in the oven, or, in camp for whiffing the delicious odor of bacon and coffee, a boy's nose is not sharp enough to smell all a dog can smell. "What's the matter, Ruddy?" asked Rick again. "Why are you growling?" Of course Ruddy could not speak boy talk, and so he could not tell what had disturbed him, but he kept on growling. "If it's a tramp trying to sneak around the house, go drive him away!" ordered Rick. He loosened the dog's chain and the animal with another bark and growl, darted away in the darkness. Then Rick became fearful lest his new pet should get into danger. "Come back, Ruddy! Come back!" called the boy. Ruddy was following that hated odor that lay on the still, night air. He smelled it more plainly now, showing that he was coming nearer to it the farther he went from his new kennel house. Rick was now some distance back. And then, near a dark clump of bushes, Ruddy came to a sudden stop. The alarming man-smell came from there. Someone was hiding in the bushes—someone Ruddy hated and feared. Again the dog growled. And then a voice fairly growled back in answer—the voice of a man hidden in the bushes, and angry words were muttered. They were words Ruddy had heard before, and they had often been followed by a blow or a kick. Ruddy did not want to be hurt again, and so he decided it would be best not to go any nearer that bush. He growled once more, sniffed the air to make sure of the smell, and turned back. Rick was following. "What is it? What's the matter, old fellow? Why are you growling?" asked Rick, but Ruddy could not answer, and the boy could neither see nor smell anything in the darkness. The man in the bushes did not stir. Perhaps he had gone to sleep. Ruddy did not know. And then, with a final growl, the dog turned away and, looking up and back to where he dimly saw Rick's form, he followed the boy. But once, and once again, Ruddy turned, looked back toward the clump of bushes, and growled low and fiercely. "Was it a tramp or a cat?" asked Rick. "Well, if it's a cat it doesn't much matter. And if it's a tramp, maybe he'll know I have a dog, and I guess he won't come too close to our house. Tramps don't like dogs." And if it had been light, and if Rick and Ruddy had looked back then, they would have seen, peering out from the screen of the bush, an ugly face. It was the face of a ragged man, and the man, as he saw in the darkness the dog and boy moving away, muttered: "He nearly smelled me out! Wonder what kind of a dog that was? Looked something like the one I want. Well, I can tell better in the mornin'. This is a good place to sleep." And he curled up again. Several times more Ruddy growled down in his throat, and then something came that made him forget the man in the bush. The man whose smell he so well remembered. With Ruddy leaping and barking about him, Rick got a lantern and went to look at the broken-winged crow in the woodshed. The black bird did not seem to have moved since it had nestled down amid the soft grass in the box, over which a wire screen had been placed to keep Haw-Haw from fluttering out. "To-morrow I will mend your broken wing," said Rick, as he looked at his new pet. Ruddy, forgetting for the time being about the man smell that came from the bush, stood with head on one side looking wonderingly toward the box where the crow nestled. "I must fix it so Ruddy won't hurt Haw-Haw by mistake," said Rick. "Look here, old fellow," he said to his dog, and tapping the edge of the box, at which sound the crow moved uneasily. "Look here, Ruddy! You mustn't hurt Haw-Haw. Let him alone! He is my crow and he and you and I are going to be friends. Don't hurt this black bird!" Ruddy whined. He did not quite understand. Something inside him made him want to take this feathered creature in his mouth and carry it somewhere, as the dogs of his family carried birds from the hunting field. And this was the hunting instinct Ruddy felt. But he knew he must also mind his young master. If Rick said not to touch the crow, the crow must not be touched. And so Ruddy made up his mind he would obey his young master. The dog followed the boy out of the woodshed, and the crow was left alone, which was the best thing for the bird at present. Its heart did not beat so wildly when Rick and Ruddy had gone. "Come on, Ruddy!" called Rick to his dog. "We'll go over and see Chot! I'll tell him how I got lost and found a crow!" Ruddy was always ready to go anywhere with Rick, and especially over to Chot's house. For next door to Rick's chum lived Tom Martin, whose dog and Ruddy had become great friends. This other dog's name was Peter, and he was a bull terrier, a white dog, with ears like a bat, and queer, sleepy-looking eyes that gave his long face rather a foolish expression. But Peter was a brave dog, and loved his master as much as Ruddy loved Rick. So the two dogs played together, while Rick and Chot talked on the back steps in the soft, warm, fall darkness. Ruddy was much larger than Peter, and it was all Peter could do, when Ruddy held his head high, to get hold of one of Ruddy's ears to pull it. But often Peter did this, and then the two dogs would roll over and over in the grass, pretending to bite one another, but, of course, not really doing it. "I'm sorry you got lost," said Chot to Rick. "I didn't know you would go so far in the woods if I wasn't there." "I didn't mean to," spoke Rick. "But I just kept going. But I'll never get lost, now, with Ruddy. He'll bring me home." "Yes, Ruddy is a good dog." Hearing his name spoken Ruddy left his play with Peter, and came running to his master, laying his muzzle, or nose, on the boy's knee, and looking up into his face as if to ask: "What do you want?" "I didn't call you," said Rick. "But I guess it's time to go home. Come on over and see Haw-Haw, my crow, to-morrow, Chot." "I will. I hope he gets to talking." "So do I!" Rick and Ruddy raced home together, and soon both were asleep, Rick in his little white bed, and Ruddy out in his kennel, ready to bark if a strange footfall should be heard around the house. For though Ruddy could not see in the dark, even as well as he could in the daytime, which was little enough, his hearing and smelling were perhaps better after dark than in daylight. He would know the moment a stranger came within hearing, or smelling, distance of the house he now called home. Again and again Ruddy sniffed the night air, during the hours of darkness for any trace of the hated man odor he had smelled. But it did not again come to his nose. Perhaps the wind had changed, for dogs, and most animals, can not smell persons, or other animals, if the wind is blowing away from them. When the wind blows from the animal or person to the dog, then the dog can smell very well indeed. Or perhaps the ugly-faced man under the bush had gone away after the dog had growled. Ruddy did not know what it was, but he did know that the odor he disliked came to him no more. But he was on the alert for the noise of a strange footstep, or the least whiff of a new smell. Mr. Dalton came from the office earlier next day, and with the help of Rick and Chot bound up the crow's broken wing. It was wound about with soft strips of cloth close to the glossy, black feathers of the bird's body. "There," said Rick's father. "I think the wing will mend, even if Haw-Haw can not use it to fly again. Now we'll give him something to eat, and fresh water, and leave him alone. He's frightened half to death, for he doesn't know yet that we are trying to be kind to him." Some scraps of meat were given Haw-Haw and he seemed to like them. He nestled down in his box, and there he had to stay for many days, until his broken wing healed, as it did after a while, though not so he could fly with it. He could only flutter lamely about the yard. Meanwhile Rick and Ruddy had many good times. When he did not have to go to school, the boy went on long walks with his dog, sometimes down to the beach, and again back in the woods or along the river or lake. On Silver Lake were a number of swans. They had been bought by the town of Belemere to make the place attractive for summer visitors, and in winter the birds were put in shelters. But now they were still in the open, swimming about the lake, and sometimes in the river, from which they ate the weeds. Ruddy did not understand these swans. To him they were a sort of goose. But a swan is much larger than a goose and it has powerful wings. It is said a swan can break a man's arm with a sweep of the wing, but I am not sure this is so. At any rate swans defend themselves with their bills, which can nip splinters off a wooden plank, and with their strong wings they can deal hard blows. Whenever Ruddy could slip away from Rick, the dog used to love to chase these swans. He would rush at them barking loudly, if he saw them preening their feathers, or asleep on the bank of the lake. Then, with wild hissings, the big, white birds would dash for the water. Sometimes they would turn on Ruddy, and almost strike him with their wings. But most times Rick called his dog back as soon as Ruddy made a dash for the half-tame water fowls. Thus there never had been a real fight between the swans and the dog. But one day Rick was called back by his mother after he had started for a romp with Ruddy, and the dog went on alone by himself for a while. He approached the lake and there, asleep on the bank, were two swans. "Bow-wow!" barked Ruddy, making a sudden rush. He expected the white creatures would dash into the water, but they seemed to have made up their minds that they had stood the dog's nonsense long enough. With loud hisses they both turned and with outstretched necks, with open bills, with fluttering and spread wings they flew at Ruddy. Few dogs would have been brave enough to stand in the face of these strange enemies. Even a bulldog might have turned tail, as Ruddy certainly did. Away ran the dog and after him ran the swans. The big, white birds could really travel quite fast, even on land, for they used their wings to help themselves along, just as an ostrich half runs and half flies, which makes him as speedy as some horses. With hisses and flappings of their wings, the swans pursued Ruddy, and if Rick had seen them after his dog he could easily have guessed what the swans were saying to one another. "We might as well settle this matter once and for all," one swan might have said. "I agree with you," the mate probably hissed in answer. "We have no peace or quietness at all, with this dog chasing us at unexpected times. Let's teach him a lesson!" And that is what they were trying to do—teach Ruddy a lesson. The swans wanted to make Ruddy afraid of them, so he would no longer chase them. When a cat, I don't mean Sallie, especially, but any cat, wants to teach a dog a lesson, and cause him to fear her, so he will no longer chase her, the cat turns, arches up her back, makes her tail as large as she can, hisses at the dog and scratches his nose if possible. A cat seems to understand that a dog's nose is his most tender spot, as indeed it is. A dog really hates to have his nose scratched as it bothers him, hurts him and prevents him from smelling his best, and on a dog's scent, or sense of smell, nearly everything depends. But swans can't scratch. They can pinch with their yellow bills, or, if they are black swans, with their red beaks. And they can deal hard blows with their powerful wings. And as Ruddy raced along the shore, back toward where he had left Rick, the dog tucked his tail between his hind legs to keep it out of the way. Next to a dog's nose his tail is his most tender part. Ruddy did not want his tail pinched, or nipped, but that is just what happened. One of the swans managed to get close to the dog, who was running away as fast as he could, and, catching the setter's tail in his strong beak, gave it a hard bite. My, how Ruddy howled! He howled more than once, and then he ran so fast and hard that he pulled his tail out of the swan's beak. Ruddy was loose. The swan had done what he hoped to do. Then the first swan, and all the others, stopped chasing Ruddy. They spread wide their wings to act as brakes, just as an airship man pulls down the tail rudder of his aeroplane to make it travel over the ground more slowly when he has made a landing. Birds, too, when they alight after a fly, spread wide their tails. Just watch them some time. Then, having, as they hoped, taught Ruddy a lesson, so he would not tease them again, the swans waddled back to the lake. The setter dog had a queer expression on his face. He held his head on one side, one long, silky ear was cocked up and Ruddy seemed very much surprised by what had happened. In fact he appeared very much ashamed of himself, and animals can be ashamed just as much as can boys or girls. If you have ever seen a cat, sleeping on the edge of a chair, and, perhaps while she was dreaming of something, suddenly slip off to the floor, you know what I mean. The cat is ashamed of having fallen out of bed. It was this way with Ruddy. He was ashamed of having run away from the swans. "I wonder what other dogs would think of me if they knew I had run away from a bird?" mused Ruddy. "But of course they were the largest birds I ever saw. I never knew before that birds chased dogs. I thought dogs always chased birds." You see Ruddy was learning. Of course Ruddy did not know all there was to be known about birds—that there are some, like eagles and condors, that can pick a big dog up in their claws, or talons, and fly away with him. And Ruddy did not know that there are some birds, like the ostrich or the emu, who are taller than any dog. Ruddy had much to learn, you see, and, just now, he was a little ashamed of himself. "I wonder," thought Ruddy, in animal fashion, of course, "I wonder what some of the older dogs who used to live in the stable with me would say if they had seen me now? I ran away from some bird! A queer thing to happen to a dog! I wonder what other dogs would say?" But I think Ruddy need not have been ashamed. Almost any dog would have run, and turned tail if several big swans had rushed at him. And never after that did the red setter bother the great white birds on the lake. They had taught him a lesson he never forgot. The days that followed were happy ones for Rick and Ruddy. The boy and dog grew to love each other more and more, and Mrs. Dalton was not sorry the setter had come to live with them. No dog could be more gentle with Mazie, who loved Ruddy as much as did her brother. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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