“I don’t know,” Rick confessed. “Might be the dog catchers are starting in, now that summer is here, but I haven’t seen any warning in the paper about keeping dogs tied up. Anyhow, you’re all right; aren’t you Ruddy?”
Again there was a wild demonstration of affection on the part of the red setter and Rick had to hide his face in his arms to keep it away from the dog’s eager tongue.
“Oh,” murmured Uncle Tod, “I didn’t know but what it might be—I guess you got a bit excited; didn’t you?” he asked, and both Chot and Rick noticed the sudden manner in which he changed what he was going to say. Clearly Uncle Tod had been startled when the boys rushed into the yard, and his thoughts must have been along the line of shooting, though whether it concerned a dog or himself was not quite clear.
“Yes, I was excited,” admitted Rick with a laugh. “But I’m all right now. Oh, quit it, Ruddy!” he cried as the dog again sought to use his tongue as a wash rag. “Just because I don’t want you shot isn’t a sign that I want you to lap me all over! Quit!” he yelled, laughing, and he rolled over and over in the grass to get away from the loving demonstrations of his four-footed chum. Not very successfully, however, did Rick escape, for Ruddy followed, and he did not cease until Rick tossed a stick which the dog rushed down to the end of the yard to retrieve.
“You didn’t hear any shooting; did you, Uncle Tod?” asked Rick, when Ruddy, panting and with his red tongue hanging out over his white teeth, was resting on the grass more quietly between the two boys.
“Shooting? No, I didn’t hear any. I was asleep until you woke me up.”
Afterward Rick and Chot wondered why Uncle Tod had asked such queer questions about “scoundrels.”
“Do they use dog-catchers here in Belemere?” went on Uncle Tod, for he was somewhat of a stranger in the seacoast town.
“Sometimes,” answered Rick, “but they generally give you notice when they’re going to start to round up the homeless ones. Lots of times dogs with good homes get taken in, or killed by the catchers, and that’s why I was worried about Ruddy.”
“Um,” murmured Uncle Tod, which might mean anything or nothing. “Well, I guess everything’s all right. I’d better go in and see if your mother wants me to take any mail for her, Rick. I’m going to the post office and—” Uncle Tod suddenly ceased speaking, and Ruddy and the boys started up, the dog with a menacing growl, as something was thrown over the rear fence of the yard, landing with a thud on the ground not far from the apple tree.