"You can't get me out, Ruddy! You can't get me loose, old boy!" spoke Rick. "You'd better go home and bring somebody to help, as you brought me to help the cat! Go home, Ruddy! Go home!"
Ruddy heard these words and he knew what they meant. Once or twice before Rick had sent his dog home when Ruddy had followed at a time when he ought not to have done so. Then Rick had spoken sharply, as one must do, at times, with a dog, to make sure he obeys. But now Rick's voice was quite different. He was begging Ruddy to do him a favor.
"Go home, Ruddy! Go home!" ordered Rick.
Ruddy barked once or twice, circled around Rick who lay on his back with one foot stuck up in the air, where it was held fast in the tree, and then the dog came and licked Rick's face with his smooth tongue. Dog's tongues are smooth, you know, and cat's tongues are rough.
"Oh, I know you like me, Ruddy!" said Rick, with a half laugh in spite of his pain. "You needn't kiss me any more to show that! But run home and bring somebody to help me get loose."
And then Ruddy knew just what was wanted of him, and off through the woods he rushed. He scattered the dried leaves from side to side, he leaped little brooks, swam larger ones and never stopped, no matter how often he caught the scent of the wild rabbits and squirrels. And then, panting from his run, Ruddy leaped into the house just as Mr. Dalton reached home. Ruddy lost no time. He took hold of Rick's father's coat, just as he had taken hold of Rick's, the day Sallie was caught in a trap, and then the dog tried to pull the man along with him.
And because of what had happened before—because Mr. Dalton knew Ruddy would not do this unless he had a reason for it—he followed the dog at once, running out of the house after him.
"What is it? Oh, what's the matter?" cried the boy's mother.
"I don't know," answered her husband, "except that Rick is in some kind of trouble, and Ruddy has come to have me help. I'll go get Rick and bring him home!"
"Oh, but—but suppose he is badly hurt!" cried Mrs. Dalton.