He slouched off down the beach, talking to himself. Sig watched him go. The life guard had forgotten the boat he was whittling out of a block of wood.
"It may be the dog Rick has," said Sig to himself. "But I'm not going to tell that man. He'd take Ruddy away if I did, and he hasn't any right to him. That man would be cruel to a dog, I know. I'll just slip up and tell Rick to keep Ruddy chained up for a day or two. It isn't likely this tramp will find Ruddy, but he might. I'll go tell Rick."
And that afternoon, when he had a little time to himself, the coast guard went up to the village and called on Rick.
"Where's Ruddy?" asked Sig.
There was something so strange in his voice that the boy looked up quickly and asked:
"You haven't come to take him away; have you? You don't want him back, do you, just 'cause you found him when he come out of the ocean?"
"No, I'm not going to take Ruddy away from you," answered Sig; "but another man might. Listen, Rick! I saw a tramp to-day. He once had a reddish dog, for luck, as he said, and the dog was washed overboard. Now I'll tell you what to do."
Sig told the story of the hungry, ragged sailor who sat on the bench eating the bowl of beef stew. And Sig told how the tramp-man was going to look around to see if he could find the dog he had lost.
"Keep Ruddy chained up!" half-whispered the coast guard.
"I will!" said Rick in a low voice, and he looked over his shoulder as if, even then, the man with the scraggy beard on his face might be coming along, looking for Ruddy.