"Near the log cabin stood a junk wagon."
"Then it was Ruddy—I'm sure it was!"exclaimed Rick. "Oh, fellows, come on! Maybe we'll have him, soon, now!"
Hardly stopping to thank the man for his news, though Chot did remember to fling back, over his shoulder, a hasty "much obliged," the boys hurried on.
"We're hot on the trail now!" exclaimed Chot, recalling some of the things his Boy Scout friends had said. "We'll get him!"
It was getting dusk now, but the three chums hardly noticed this. Along the road they raced, looking for a sight of the junk wagon. And, as they came to a lonely stretch they saw, off to one side, in a field a small house—a log cabin it really was, and near it stood a ramshackle old vehicle—a junk wagon beyond a doubt.
"Fellows, we've found it!" cried Rick. He pointed toward the old log cabin. Yes, there was no doubt of it. There was the junk wagon, but there was no sign of horse, or men or Ruddy, the dog.
CHAPTER XV
RUDDY AND THE SAILOR
Just before it was time for his master, Rick, to come home from school that afternoon, Ruddy had been peacefully sleeping on the side porch, in a place where the sun shone down, making a warm spot. Ruddy liked to sleep in warm places. So did Sallie, the cat. Perhaps Sallie loved warm places even more than Ruddy did, for dogs can better stand the cold than can cats, even though they have warm fur.
And suddenly, when Ruddy was sleeping, and perhaps dreaming, for it is said that dogs do dream, all at once there sounded on the other side of the hedge that separated the Dalton yard from the street, a low whistle.
It was not the kind of a whistle with which Rick had been in the habit of calling his dog, nor was it the kind of a whistle that Haw-Haw, the crow, had learned to imitate.