S. Rockford
Rick, Ruddy and Chot
“Is that true, Uncle Tod?” asked Rick, hardly able to believe it.
“Of course it is. I bought this mine from the real owners, whose claim the Lawson crowd tried to jump. And I reckon I couldn’t do any more than name the mine after Ruddy. I thought you’d rather have it that way than named after either of you boys.”
“Sure!” cried Rick and Chot. “Sure!”
“Then the Ruddy Mine it is!” chuckled Uncle Tod, “and I think the dog brought us good luck, for both claims are panning out well. Boys, it’s a good thing you came west.”
“I believe it is!” declared Chot.
“Whoopee, Ruddy! You never thought when you got swept overboard off that schooner into the sea that you’d ever have a gold mine named after you; did you, old dog?” cried Rick. He leaped forward to throw his arms around his dog, but he slipped and down a gentle pine-needle-covered hill Rick rolled, he and Ruddy together, the dog barking madly and joyously while Chot and Uncle Tod shook with laughter.
“Well, we sure have had a bunch of jolly adventures!” declared Rick, when he had untangled himself from Ruddy and walked up the hill.
“We sure have!” agreed Chot. “I wonder if we’ll have any more?”