He puckered up his lips and gave a low, but clear call—one he often used to summon Ruddy. But this time there was no answer. Ruddy did not burst out from under a bush, or from among the weeds, as he frequently did, with dried leaves clinging to him when he had nosed in among them seeking the cause of many strange, wild smells.
"Guess Ruddy isn't there," said Rick, with a sigh, after several whistles.
"Come on; let's go up and look!" advised Chot. "Maybe they've got him hidden inside the cabin."
The boys hesitated a moment. They were not very big nor old, and the idea of facing two grown men, one of whom had been bold enough to entice away, or steal, Ruddy, was a little alarming at first.
"Oh, come on!" said Chot, desperately enough. "There's nothing to be afraid of! We got a right to help Rick get back his dog!"
And so, rather timidly it must be admitted, they went through the fence, at the bars where the junk wagon had found a passage, and approached the cabin. They could see the wagon more plainly now. It was filled with odds and ends of the sort of junk which the men who collect it seem to make money on. There were bundles of papers, part of a broken stove, the spring of a bed, some old auto tires and bags of rags.
"It's funny he left it here without the horse," said Tom.
"Maybe his horse lost a shoe, same as an automobile gets a puncture," said Rick, "and he had to take his horse to a blacksmith shop. So he left the wagon here."
"Maybe," agreed Chot. "But blacksmiths aren't open after dark—anyhow the one on our street isn't."
"Well, anyhow here's the wagon, but the horse is gone and so are the men and so's Ruddy!" spoke Tom.