"But maybe Ruddy isn't there," suggested Tom. "I don't see him, and maybe that isn't the junk wagon we're looking for."
"I'm sure it's the right wagon," spoke Rick. "But I don't see Ruddy. And I don't see any horse."
"Whistle for him!" advised Tom.
"Whistle for the horse?" Rick wanted to know.
"Whistle for the dog, I mean. If he's there he'll come out to you. Maybe he's inside the log cabin. I wonder what it's for, anyhow? I have never been over so far on this road before."
"This is a log cabin that a gun club used to use when they shot at targets," said Chot. "Some of us Boy Scouts stopped here one day and cooked our dinner. The gun club doesn't use the cabin any more."
"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.