THE TWO SAILORS
While Rick, his boy chums and the Scout Master were on their way to the old log cabin, there to camp all night, if need be, to wait for the sailor to come back with the dog, poor Ruddy himself was not having a very good time.
He had been lifted out of the junk wagon by Matt Stanton, the ragged sailor who had stolen Ruddy away "for luck," as he called it. And Ruddy was half dragged along the road by a rope the sailor had tied around his neck.
Ruddy growled and whined and whimpered. If he could have talked man-language, instead of only in dog fashion, he would have said:
"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."
"A man came in—a sailor like himself."
"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.