"That's what I think, Mother," the boy answered. "But if anyone who doesn't really own Ruddy tries to take him away from me——" Rick paused when he had said this much. He really didn't know what he would do. "But I guess Ruddy won't go with them; will you, old fellow?" he asked his dog.
And from the manner in which Ruddy barked and capered about the boy he had grown to care for so much, it did seem that no one else could ever get the dog away.
Once again the whistle sounded, just as if it were Rick himself, or an echo of the boy's shrill call. Ruddy was puzzled by it and, lifting up his ears, looked up into Rick's face, as if to ask what it all meant.
"Come on! We'll find it out!" called the boy.
Together they ran to the street. Rick looked up and down. No one was in sight. And then, again came the shrill call. It sounded overhead.
"Someone is up in a tree!" cried Rick. "Is that you, Chot?" he called, thinking perhaps his chum was trying to play a little joke on him.
There was no answer, but, after a moment the whistle sounded again, and then followed a loud, harsh call of:
"Haw! Haw! Haw!"
If you could have seen the looks, then, on the faces of Rick and Ruddy you would have laughed. Both boy and dog showed how very much they had been fooled by the whistling of the pet crow.
For it was Rick's black bird, Haw-Haw by name, who had been doing the whistling. The sly fellow had listened to Rick until he could imitate the boy perfectly and now, up in a tree into which he had managed to flutter, Haw-Haw was calling Ruddy.