“Sure is,” agreed Chot.
They ran on again after performing this boyish rite, which, doubtless, you also have practiced, perhaps with some variation, as I have myself. I think that the turning of the stone, or whatever you might have done when you had a pain in your side caused by running, did not cause the sharp spasm to pass away. Rather, I think, the stooping over, and so compressing the muscles and the stomach organs, was what did it. But I may be wrong at that.
Anyhow, Chot and Rick, relieved of the stress of the side-pains, ran on, turning the corner from the main street and hurrying along the more quiet thoroughfare that led to Rick’s house.
“Why didn’t you take Ruddy with you?” asked Chot, for seldom was Rick seen without his setter companion.
“He wasn’t around when I started off, and I was in a hurry. I only hope he isn’t shot!”
“So do I!” murmured Chot.
The fear that had been in their hearts passed away as they raced into the yard and saw, under an old and gnarled apple tree, a man and a dog.
“There’s Ruddy now!” cried Chot.
“Yes,” said Rick with a sigh of relief. “As long as he’s with Uncle Tod he’s all right. I guess maybe it was a false alarm.”
Ruddy, who had been asleep with his head between his extended fore paws at the feet of Uncle Tod (who was also, apparently, slumbering) awakened with a start as the boys entered the yard. The dog sprang up, looked for a moment rather doubtfully at the lads, and then, as he caught their familiar odors (for a dog’s scent is much better than his sight) Ruddy sprang forward with delighted barks and frantic waggings of his tail.