Rick and Ruddy: The Story of a Boy and His Dog

by Howard Roger Garis

"Yes, I've had bad luck ever since I lost my dog," half growled the ragged man. "I found the dog—he was living in an ash barrel down where I stayed near the dock. I took him on the boat with me for luck. Nice little pup he was—sort of brown in color—a dark red. I took him along for luck, but I didn't have any."

"Didn't you?" asked Sig. He was doing some hard thinking. Only that morning he had seen Rick and Ruddy racing along the beach together, and it was hard to say which was the happier—the dog or the boy.

"No, I didn't have any luck," went on the ragged sailor, who was not half as pretty to look at as the flower of that name. "I took that pup with me when I went on the Mary Jane—that was the name of the schooner. But a storm came up—right when we got off this coast. I was nearly washed overboard myself, and the pup was—completely. I guess he was drowned. No dog could live in that storm. He couldn't get ashore."

The life guard did not answer. He was not sure that Ruddy was the dog the tramp had taken along "for luck" as he said. And it would not be fair to Rick or Ruddy to send this man—this ragged sailor—to see if he could claim the red pup. Sig shook his head.

"We did have a bad storm early in September," he said. "Regular north-easter. I didn't see any wreck around here, though."

"Well, the schooner wasn't exactly wrecked—at least not then," went on the ragged man. "But my dog was washed overboard—a red pup he was, and I haven't had any luck since. After the storm our boat got leaking, and we had to put in. I lost my place on the Mary Jane and I haven't had any work since—that is not regular work. No luck at all. Maybe if I could find that dog I'd have luck again. But I don't see him around here."

"No, we haven't any dogs," said Sig. And again he made up his mind to say nothing about Ruddy. After all it might not be the same dog. Besides, this man did not look as though he would be kind to dogs, and no one has a right to own a dog, or any other animal, unless he is kind.

"Much obliged for the soup," said the ragged sailor, as he got up from the bench. "I feel better now. Maybe I'll have some luck after this."

"I hope so," spoke Sig, as kindly as he could.

"Maybe I'll find my dog," went on the wayfarer. "Guess I'll look around this village a bit. It's right about off shore here that he was washed overboard. He might have swum to land, though I doubt it. But I'll look around. I think I'd have better luck if I could have my dog!"