Part 22 (1/2)

”It'd be a fine place to camp out--if there weren't a lot of junk men in it,” declared Tom. ”Go on and whistle for your dog, Rick.”

”But don't whistle too loud,” advised Chot. ”If the old junk man, and the sailor who must have rode with him, are there we don't want them to hear us. All we want is the dog.”

”That's so,” agreed Tom. ”Course we ought to have that man arrested for taking Rick's dog. But no use looking for trouble. If we can get Ruddy back that's all we want.”

”I'll whistle,” offered Rick.

He puckered up his lips and gave a low, but clear call--one he often used to summon Ruddy. But this time there was no answer. Ruddy did not burst out from under a bush, or from among the weeds, as he frequently did, with dried leaves clinging to him when he had nosed in among them seeking the cause of many strange, wild smells.

”Guess Ruddy isn't there,” said Rick, with a sigh, after several whistles.

”Come on; let's go up and look!” advised Chot. ”Maybe they've got him hidden inside the cabin.”

The boys hesitated a moment. They were not very big nor old, and the idea of facing two grown men, one of whom had been bold enough to entice away, or steal, Ruddy, was a little alarming at first.

”Oh, come on!” said Chot, desperately enough. ”There's nothing to be afraid of! We got a right to help Rick get back his dog!”

And so, rather timidly it must be admitted, they went through the fence, at the bars where the junk wagon had found a pa.s.sage, and approached the cabin. They could see the wagon more plainly now. It was filled with odds and ends of the sort of junk which the men who collect it seem to make money on. There were bundles of papers, part of a broken stove, the spring of a bed, some old auto tires and bags of rags.

”It's funny he left it here without the horse,” said Tom.

”Maybe his horse lost a shoe, same as an automobile gets a puncture,”

said Rick, ”and he had to take his horse to a blacksmith shop. So he left the wagon here.”

”Maybe,” agreed Chot. ”But blacksmiths aren't open after dark--anyhow the one on our street isn't.”

”Well, anyhow here's the wagon, but the horse is gone and so are the men and so's Ruddy!” spoke Tom.

But at that instant there was a noise that seemed to come from behind the cabin. It was a loud noise.

”What's that?” cried Tom.

For a moment his two chums were so startled that they could not answer.

Then, as the strange sound came again, Chot said:

”It's just a horse whinneying!”

”The junk man's horse,” added Rick.

And so it was. They saw the animal a moment later, tied by a long rope to the back of the log cabin. The horse looked up and stopped chewing a mouthful of gra.s.s he had just pulled. He had whinneyed as he heard the footsteps of the boys and their voices. Perhaps the horse thought his master was coming to give him a drink of water or take him to a stable.

However, the junk man's horse went to cropping gra.s.s again when he saw that the boys were evidently not coming any nearer to him.

”Ruddy isn't here,” announced Rick, looking across the fast-dimming meadow back of the log cabin. Night was falling rapidly now, for the long, summer days were at an end, and autumn would soon give place to winter. ”My dog isn't here!” and there was a catch in Rick's voice that sounded as though he were going to cry; but he didn't.

Again Chot was walking around, leaning over close to the ground.

Suddenly, out near the place in the fence where the bars had been taken down, to allow the wagon to be driven in, Chot lighted a match.

”He's been here!” he cried, pointing to something in the moist earth.