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

by Howard Roger Garis

And at that instant Haw-Haw, seeing his chance, took it. Rick felt a sudden jab at his fingers, the meat was snatched from them and then with a loud "Haw! Haw!" the crow fluttered up to the roof of the woodshed to eat the morsel.

"Oh, that isn't fair!" cried Rick, but he had to laugh. "That isn't playing the game!"

"Haw! Haw!" croaked the crow, and it sounded just as if he were laughing at Rick. He may have been, too, for all I know.

That was the beginning of the crow's education at the hands of Rick, but not many times after that could the black bird fool his master by snatching away the meat or other dainty. Rick was more careful.

Rick did manage to get Haw-Haw to say a few words. At least the boy declared they were words, though his father and mother said they could not understand them. Mazie said she could, so perhaps it was because Mr. and Mrs. Dalton did not stop long enough to listen.

And Haw-Haw also tried some other whistling notes, different from the dog-call he had learned of Rick. But that dog-call was the best thing he did, and he often fooled Ruddy by fluttering out to a bush in front of the house and giving the shrill whistle by which Rick used to summon his pet on coming from school.

After a while, when Haw-Haw knew he could play his tricks on Ruddy, the crow did it so often that the poor dog was quite puzzled about it. Ruddy would be sleeping on the porch, perhaps, waiting for Rick to come from school to have a romp across the fields. And then, about time for the classes to be dismissed, the crow would softly flutter out from his nest in the woodshed and take his perch in a bush, or on a low branch of a tree. There he would give his whistle.

With a bark of welcome Ruddy would awaken from his sleep and dash off the porch out to the front gate. There he would glance up and down the street, where no Rick was in sight.

With a queer look on his face, the dog would then go back to the porch, growling and glancing up at the tree where the crow was perched. Ruddy knew he had been fooled. But, no matter how often this happened, he would always jump up and run out whenever Haw-Haw whistled. Ruddy could not tell the difference between the notes of the crow and the call of Rick. As I told you a dog depends on his scent, or by smelling with his nose, to tell his master and friends, and not on his ears or eyesight, though a dog's hearing is better than his vision.

"I guess I'll have to stop whistling for Ruddy when I come home from school," said Rick to his mother one day, when he had come in with his books, and had been told that Haw-Haw had played the trick three times on the setter that afternoon. "It's too bad to plague him that way. I won't whistle any more when I come along."