"Here's a friend of mine! Here he is!" Ruddy would have said, if he could have talked our language. "I know that smell! It's almost the same as Rick's! Oh, I wonder where Rick is?"
And then Ruddy raised his head and gave a bark—a short, sharp joyous bark in the night. A bark that said, as plainly as could be said:
"Here I am, Rick! Where are you! I smell a smell I know—a smell that seems to be a part of you! Where are you, Rick?"
CHAPTER XX
OVER THE SNOW
Chot and Tom, standing the first guard watch outside the log cabin, had been walking around it, now and then stepping inside to get a drink of water. They did not go far away, for what they wanted to see, if such a thing should happen, was the coming back of the sailor or the junk man.
For the first hour of their watch nothing had happened. It had been too early, perhaps. And perhaps the junk man had no idea of coming back for his horse and wagon until morning. At any rate Tom and Chot walked silently around the log cabin, now and then listening to see if they could hear any strange noises.
They heard noises—plenty of them—noises of the night, but they were not strange to these boys who had lived much of their lives in what was part country and part town.
There were the chirp of the crickets, the disputing calls of the Katy-dids and the Katy-didn'ts, the whistling call of the tree toad and, now and then, the distant bark of a dog. As I have told you, the sound of a dog's bark carries a long way, especially at night.
"Wonder if that's Rick's dog?" asked Tom of his chum in a low voice as they met in front of the log cabin door.
"It might be," agreed Chot. "I hope we can get Ruddy back."