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Rick and Ruddy

<h3>CHAPTER XI A MYSTERIOUS WHISTLE</h3> 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. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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