RICK GETS LOST
"Look at him go! Look at him go! Oh, he's a hunting dog all right!" yelled Chot, as he saw Rick's pet leap after the cat. "Oh, look at him go! Sic her, old boy! Sic her!"
Neither Rick nor Chot were cruel boys. They would not have harmed Sallie for anything, and they would not have let Ruddy hurt the gray cat. But they could not help wanting to see whether the cat would get to the fence first, or whether Ruddy would win the race. If Ruddy should happen to catch the cat—well, then Rick and Chot were ready to stop the puppy from doing her any harm. But if he should not—why, then it was a good race between a dog and a cat—that was all.
You may well believe that Sallie ran as fast as she could. She knew a lot about dogs—she knew that dogs, almost always, chased cats as they probably always will—just why I do not know. And Sallie ran as fast as she could.
It is not very hard for a cat to get away from a dog. Fear seems to give the cat greater speed and then, too, there is always a chance of climbing a fence or a tree. A cat can easily get up in a tree, though it can not always so easily get down again. And very few dogs can climb trees. I have seen moving pictures of African hunting dogs getting up in low trees after panthers, but these trees were covered with branches close to the ground, so a dog could really leap up among them. No dog can climb a straight tree trunk, but a cat easily does this.
And the reason for this is that a cat's claws are sharper than a dog's, and they are what are called "retractile." That is they can be pushed out and drawn in again. If you have ever taken pussy's paw, and gently pressed it, you have seen her claws come out from the little sheaths, or pockets of skin, in which they are kept under her fur. Sometimes you can press them out, and sometimes, especially after pussy awakens after a nap, you may see her stick out her claws herself and pull them in again.
Because of this, and because her claws are sharp, a cat can really climb a tree, just as the telephone lineman climbs a pole by sticking his sharp iron spurs in it. The cat sticks her claws in the soft bark of a tree.
If a dog's claws were sharp he might climb a tree, but they are not. A dog's claws always stick out; he can not put them out when he pleases and pull them back again, as pussy can. And because a dog's claws are always out they get worn off, and dull, as he runs around on the ground.
On raced Sallie and Ruddy raced after her, and soon, coming to a tree, up the cat shot like a flash of light. She reached a limb and sat down on it, her tail big and fluffy, her back arched and her heart beating fast.
Ruddy reached the foot of the tree and there he had to stop. He could not climb. He just sat there, looking up at Sallie and barked. And the cat knew the dog could not get her. She was safe as long as she stayed in the tree.
"He sure is a hunting dog all right!" exclaimed Chot, as he and Rick ran along after Ruddy.
"He can run pretty fast, but Sallie beat him," spoke Rick.
"Some day we'll take your dog out in the woods and have him chase rabbits," went on Chot. "If he's a hunting dog, and I guess he is, he can catch rabbits."
"I wouldn't want him to hurt any rabbits," spoke Rick. "I used to have some rabbits, once, but I let 'em loose in the woods back of the lake, and maybe they're living there yet. I wouldn't want Ruddy to chase any of the rabbits that I used to have for pets."
"No, course we wouldn't 'zactly want Ruddy to hurt any rabbits," agreed Chot. "But we could just watch him run after 'em, same as he ran after Sallie. Your dog'll be a good hunter when he grows up. Where'd you get him?"
"Oh, he just sort of came," answered Rick. "Mr. Bailey saw him swim ashore in the storm last night."
"Well, he's a good dog," declared Chot, patting Ruddy on the head. The dog was dividing his time, now, between barking at the cat and leaping about the boys. He had made friends with Chot almost at once.
"Come on," said Chot, after a while. "This is no fun. That cat won't come down as long as we stay here."
"What'll we do?" asked Rick, who, to tell the truth, was glad his dog had not caught Sallie.
"Let's have your dog chase sticks," suggested Chot.
"Yes, that'll be fun!" agreed Rick.
The boys raced off across the yard, with the reddish-brown setter leaping and barking after them. Ruddy was the kind of a dog known as a "setter"; that is a sort of bird, or hunting, dog.
Rick found a stick, held it up so Ruddy could see it, and then threw it as far as he could, off in the grass.
"Hi! Fetch it back, Ruddy!" called the boy. Ruddy's legs seemed to work on springs as he raced across the yard. It took him only a moment to discover the stick. He located it by smelling, for he could not see it in the deep grass. The stick had a bark smell of its own, but it also had the smell of Rick's hands—the boy-smell that Ruddy had soon come to know so well. Once Ruddy had this smell of his young master well fixed in his wonderful dog's nose, Ruddy never forgot it. And anything that Rick touched, even the sticks and stones that he threw, had, for Ruddy, that wonderful individual smell by which he could tell his master even without seeing him.
And so, throwing sticks for Ruddy to run after and bring back to them, Rick, Ruddy and Chot had fun together.
Not far from Rick's house ran a little stream called Weed River. It really was almost too small for a river, but that is what it was called. There were so many weeds in it, at certain times of the year, that it had been given this name. And, because of the weeds, ducks liked to swim in the river, for ducks eat weeds, and also snails and other small creatures that live on, or among, the grasses under water.
Weed River ran into Silver Lake, on which there were swans, which were like big white geese. And farther off, back of Silver Lake, was a patch of woods. It was in these woods that Rick had let his pet rabbits run away when he grew tired of keeping them.
"We'll throw sticks in the water and Ruddy will bring 'em back to us," proposed Rick.
"Yes," agreed Chot, "and maybe, some day, we can build a raft, and go sailing down the river and into the lake and we can take your dog with us and make believe we're looking for a new land, like it tells about in our school history books."
"I guess there aren't any new lands," said Rick. "They all have been discovered."
"Well, we can make believe to find some, and anyhow it will be fun with your dog," went on Chot. "Come on!"
Ruddy was as ready as anyone to have fun, and now he ran along after the boys, leaping and barking. He had forgotten all about Sallie, the gray cat.
"I can chase her some other time," he said to himself. "That is if I want to. Maybe I'll be friends with her and not chase her. But I guess all dogs have to chase cats."
There was one cat, though, at the place where Ruddy first lived, that neither his father nor his mother had chased. She was quite an old cat, and she would lie down and go to sleep in one of the horse stalls, near the dog's kennel.
"But she was a very old cat, and maybe that's why my father or mother didn't chase her," thought Ruddy. "They used to chase other cats I remember, so I guess I'd better chase Sallie if I get a chance, until she gets a little older, or until I get to know her better. But I won't hurt her."
But, as I said, Ruddy was having too much fun, now, with Rick and Chot to think of cats. The boys gathered up some sticks, and going down to the edge of the river, tossed the bits of wood into the water.
"Go get 'em!" cried Rick to Ruddy.
Just as though he had always known man or boy talk, Ruddy jumped into the stream and swam out. It was not easy, as the weeds were so thick, but he managed to do it, and he brought the sticks back to shore.
"Good boy!" cried Rick, patting his pet on the head.
"He's a fast swimmer," said Chot. "Oh, look! He got me all wet!"
For Ruddy, like all dogs when they come from a swim, had given himself a hard shake. And, as he happened to be near Chot when he did this, Ruddy scattered water from his shaggy coat all over the boy.
"But I don't care—I got on my old clothes," Chot said. "Now let him bring back my club, Rick."
It was Chot's turn to toss a piece of wood into the water, and Ruddy brought that back as quickly as he had brought one back for his master.
Down the river, walking along the bank, the boys hurried toward Silver Lake, and, as it happened, there were a number of ducks feeding at the place where the two bodies of water came together. The ducks belonged to a man who lived near by.
"Bow-wow!" barked Ruddy, as soon as he saw the ducks. "Bow wow!"
Somehow away back in his head was a desire to chase these ducks. Other dogs in Ruddy's family had always raced thus after birds; for he was a setter, or dog that is often used in hunting. And, though Ruddy had never gone hunting, feeling too young up to now, he knew just how to do it. Chasing the cat had been one kind of a hunt, and now here were a lot of queer birds that looked just as if they needed chasing. That would be another hunt.
And so into the water sprang Ruddy, and straight for the tame ducks he rushed, splashing his way along.
"Say, he sure is a smart hunter dog!" cried Chot.
"Yes, but if he chases these tame ducks my mother won't let me keep him," said Rick. "Come on back here, Ruddy! Come back!" he called to his dog. "Leave the ducks alone!"
But Ruddy was too excited over the chase to mind just then. With joyous, eager barks he splashed into the water, and the ducks, though tame, did just what any wild ducks would have done. They scattered with many loud quackings, some even flying, they were so frightened; though a tame duck can not easily use its wings much. But some of these ducks flew up and out of the way.
"Come back here! Come back!" yelled Rick.
And then, more because the ducks were out of his reach than because he heard his master calling, Ruddy came back. Up he came, all wet, his mouth open and his tongue hanging out, and he was panting hard. That is how a dog cools off, or perspires—by opening his mouth and letting his tongue hang out. And that is why, if a dog is muzzled too tightly, it is bad for him. He can not cool off when he is hot.
Shaking the water from his sides and legs, Ruddy jumped up around Rick and Chot, and he barked just as if he were saying:
"There! See what I did! Didn't I scatter those birds fine? Did you see me make 'em fly!"
"You leave those ducks alone!" said Rick to his dog. "Those are tame ducks, not wild ones for you to hunt. Leave 'em alone!"
He spoke rather sharply to Ruddy, and shook his finger at the dog. That is the best way to tell a dog that he has done wrong. Whipping does little good, and is cruel because a dog can not understand what he is beaten for. But a dog knows the tones of his master's voice better than anything else. And when the master speaks as if he were angry the dog knows, and remembers.
"Well, well! This is queer!" thought Ruddy as Rick scolded him. "Here I thought I was doing him a favor by chasing those birds, and he doesn't like it. I can tell by the way he talks that he doesn't like it. I wonder why? Well, I don't want to chase them if he doesn't want me to, though I think it's fun!"
So, with another bark or two, Ruddy gave up racing after the ducks, which, with ruffled feathers and after many frightened quacks, settled down on the water again.
Rick, Ruddy and Chot had lots of fun that afternoon, the boys throwing sticks in the water and the dog bringing them back. Ruddy thought he had never before met two such nice chaps as his master and the latter's chum, and never were there such a nice places as Belemere, Weed River and Silver Lake.
At last it was time for Rick and Chot to go back home. It was nearly the hour for supper. Ruddy knew that as well as the boys did, for the puppy was getting hungry, too.
"I'll be over after supper," called Chot to Rick, as they parted at the gate. "We'll have some more fun with your dog."
Ruddy was tied up in his kennel again. He did not like that very much, but Rick's mother said if the dog were going to be kept he must be made to know his place, especially at mealtime.
"I'll feed him in the same spot at the same hours each day, and he will learn to know when it is time for him to have his breakfast, dinner or supper," said Mrs. Dalton. "Regular habits are as good for a dog as they are for a boy, I should think."
So, though Ruddy did not like it, he was tied up until after Rick and Mazie had eaten their supper. Then Ruddy had his meal, and very good it tasted.
"Now for some more fun!" cried Rick, as Chot came over, and the two boys and the dog played in the yard until it was dark and time to go to bed.
So it was that Ruddy found a new home, and one he liked very much. The next day Mr. Dalton made the old rabbit house over into a fine kennel for Ruddy, and Rick got a collar and chain for his dog, so Ruddy could be made fast when it was needful. Ruddy did not like being chained up, but there were times when it was best for him to be kept from running wherever he liked.
Sig Bailey, the coast guard, came over several times to see Ruddy, and the dog knew him every time. They were good friends.
"I said that was a fine dog, as soon ever as I saw him come ashore on the beach in that storm," said the guard. "And he is a fine dog; isn't he, Rick?"
"He surely is!" declared the boy. "I hope nobody ever comes along and says he's theirs."
"Oh, I don't believe anybody will ever come," spoke Mr. Bailey. "I guess he's your dog to keep now, Rick."
And Rick certainly hoped so.
It was about two weeks after he had become the owner of Ruddy that Rick went, one day, wandering in the woods on the other side of Silver Lake. It was Saturday, when there was no school, and Chot had told Rick he would meet him in the patch of forest. The boys were going to pretend they were hunters, with sticks for guns, and Ruddy for their hunting dog. Ruddy was real, of course, but the guns were make believe.
Rick had been several times to the woods, but he had never gone very far into their somewhat dark depths. To-day, when he had not met Chot soon after getting among the trees, Rick walked on and on, and, the first thing he knew he could see nothing around him but the thick trunks and tangled bushes. All the houses were out of sight, and he could not even find the road, or path, by which he had come in.
"Chot! Chot! Where are you?" cried Rick. "Where are you?"
But the boy he had expected to meet in the woods was not there. Later Rick learned that his chum had been sent on an errand by his mother, and so did not get to the woods at all that day.
"I guess I'd better go back home," said Rick to himself, as he saw how late it was getting. "It'll soon be night. Come on, Ruddy!"
The dog, who was nosing among the leaves under a fallen log, sprang away at his master's voice and trotted along behind Rick.
"We're going home!" Rick said.
"Bow wow!" answered Ruddy, which was as much as to say: "That suits me!"
But, somehow or other, as Rick walked along, he did not seem to be getting any nearer home. The woods had a strange look, and, as he glanced about, a great fear came to him.
"Ruddy," said Rick, with a catch in his voice, "I'm lost!"