Part 16 (1/2)

CHAPTER XII

RUDDY IS GONE

Rick dropped his strap of school books that had been swinging around his head as he ran home.

”Come on, Ruddy!” the boy called to his dog. ”We'll see who is doing that whistling!”

And by the sharp, short bark the setter gave his master knew that the dog was as ready as he, himself, to find out who was trying to play a trick on them, if anyone was.

”Wait a minute, Rick!” called his mother, as the two friends ran toward the gate. ”What was that you said about a tramp sailor?”

Rick repeated what the coast guard had told him.

”Then you'd better be careful how you let Ruddy run loose,” went on Mrs.

Dalton. ”Do you think the sailor is hiding out there now, trying to call Ruddy?”

”That's what I think, Mother,” the boy answered. ”But if anyone who doesn't really own Ruddy tries to take him away from me----” Rick paused when he had said this much. He really didn't know what he would do. ”But I guess Ruddy won't go with them; will you, old fellow?” he asked his dog.

And from the manner in which Ruddy barked and capered about the boy he had grown to care for so much, it did seem that no one else could ever get the dog away.

Once again the whistle sounded, just as if it were Rick himself, or an echo of the boy's shrill call. Ruddy was puzzled by it and, lifting up his ears, looked up into Rick's face, as if to ask what it all meant.

”Come on! We'll find it out!” called the boy.

Together they ran to the street. Rick looked up and down. No one was in sight. And then, again came the shrill call. It sounded overhead.

”Someone is up in a tree!” cried Rick. ”Is that you, Chot?” he called, thinking perhaps his chum was trying to play a little joke on him.

There was no answer, but, after a moment the whistle sounded again, and then followed a loud, harsh call of:

”Haw! Haw! Haw!”

If you could have seen the looks, then, on the faces of Rick and Ruddy you would have laughed. Both boy and dog showed how very much they had been fooled by the whistling of the pet crow.

For it was Rick's black bird, Haw-Haw by name, who had been doing the whistling. The sly fellow had listened to Rick until he could imitate the boy perfectly and now, up in a tree into which he had managed to flutter, Haw-Haw was calling Ruddy.

”Come down out of that, Haw-Haw! Come down!” called Rick, and there was a flittering amid the branches of the tree on which there were still a few leaves. Haw-Haw, whose broken wing had healed, not enough to permit him to fly well, but enough so that he could flutter up into the low branches of trees, came half tumbling down, half soaring and perched himself on Rick's shoulder.

”I didn't know you could whistle!” exclaimed the boy. ”I was going to teach you, Haw-Haw, but I guess you must have taught yourself. Whistle again for me!”

But Haw-Haw did not seem to want to do this. He preened his glossy black feathers with his black bill, and made funny little noises down in his throat.

Ruddy, his head on one side, peered up at the crow on Rick's shoulder and the queer, puzzled look was still on the dog's face.

”It's all right, Ruddy! It's all right,” said Rick, patting his setter's head. ”It was only Haw-Haw whistling for you.”

Rick had been so busy having fun and going to school that, after his father had set the crow's broken wing, the boy had almost forgotten about his black bird. But Haw-Haw had grown stronger and he had grown tame--so tame that he would perch on the shoulders of any members of the family and let them feed him. Rick had been talking of teaching the crow to talk and whistle, as he had read could be done. But he kept putting it off, for one reason and another, until he was much surprised by hearing the crow's whistle.

”Did you find who it was trying to call Ruddy?” asked Rick's mother, as he came back in the yard with the crow on his shoulder and the dog leaping around him, barking joyously and excitedly. Ruddy did not altogether like Haw-Haw being so friendly with Rick.