"It's a crow. Ruddy found it and I picked it up before he could bite it.

Its wing is broken but maybe we can fix it. I'm going to teach it to talk."

"Crows don't talk--only parrots," said Mazie.

"Yes, they do--don't crows talk?" asked Rick of his father, who came out in the yard just then.

"Yes, I have heard them say a few words, and also whistle," said Mr.

Dalton. "Not all of them talk as well as do parrots, but you can understand some of the things crows say."

"You have to slit their tongues to make 'em talk," went on Rick. "Chot Benson told me so. He doesn't know I got this crow, but I'll tell him after supper. Maybe he knows how to cut their tongues."

"No, you mustn't cut the crow's tongue," said Mr. Dalton. "It is a cruel superst.i.tion to say that slitting a crow's tongue makes it talk. Not all crows can say words, but those that do, will say them just as well with a whole tongue as with one cut down the middle. Leave your crow's tongue alone, Rick, if you are going to keep him."

"Oh, I'm going to keep him!" declared the boy. "I'm going to have him for a pet same as I have Ruddy. But I'm glad I don't have to slit his tongue. Do you think you can fix his broken wing, Daddy?"

"Well, perhaps we can put it in splints so the bones will grow together," answered his father. "But I'm afraid the crow will never fly again. It may be able to flutter about, and it surely can walk, for its legs are all right," said Mr. Dalton, as he took the black bird from Rick. "But its flying days are over."

"Then it won't fly away from me," said the boy. "I'll make a nest for it in the woodshed, and then I'll teach it to talk."

"That may take you a long time," said his father, "and this may be the sort of crow that never says any words. But you can try."

"And now it's time for supper," exclaimed Rick's mother. "It has been waiting long enough, and it's almost dark."

"Ruddy wants his supper, too," said his master.

"Tie him up and I'll feed him after I feed you," promised Mrs. Dalton with a laugh. Though not very fond of dogs she was beginning to love Rick's pet that had come to him out of the ocean, and Ruddy knew how to appreciate the kindness of his master's mother in giving him clean food and water, and choice bones to gnaw when he had nothing else to do.

The crow was put in a box filled with soft, dried gra.s.s. A tin can of water was hung on the side, so Haw-Haw could reach it without knocking it over. And then he was left to himself in the woodshed. Ruddy was tied in his kennel, and he stretched out with his muzzle between his forepaws, thinking over what had happened that day. It had been one filled with delight and adventures, and Ruddy was wishing, with all his warm, dog's heart, for another day like it.

To Rick the great adventure had been getting lost, but this, to Ruddy, was nothing. The dog had not been lost at all. He knew his way back home all the while.

While Rick, Mazie and the others were eating supper, and Rick was telling all that had happened, and how he found Haw-Haw, his dog lay out in the kennel. It was a soft, warm evening, one of the sort that come in Indian Summer, and Ruddy was sniffing many odors that reached his sharp nose.

Suddenly he smelled--cat. Quickly his head was raised. Yes, there was a cat who had leaped up on the back fence. It was Sallie from next door.

For a moment Ruddy had a wild notion of springing up and chasing after Sallie as he had done that first day he came to live with Rick. Then, as the dog felt the collar about his neck, and as the chain by which he was fastened to the kennel gave a rattle, he knew that it would have been of no use to get up. The chain would stop him after he had gone a few feet.

Ruddy settled back on the ground. The cat--having heard the dog's chain rattle, and knowing the setter could not get her (for Sallie was a wise cat)--did not run away as fast as she had run the other time. Nor did she climb a tree.

Sallie just walked along the fence, to see another cat perhaps, and Ruddy stretched out, sniffing the many odors that came to his fine, sharply-pointed nose. The cat smell pa.s.sed away with the night wind.

Suddenly, as it grew darker, to the nose of the dog came another smell.

It was a smell that made him leap up with a deep growl in his throat. It was the smell Ruddy did not like, for it brought back to him the memory of a man who had been cruel to him--a man who had beaten and kicked him--who had filled his puppy days with misery.

And now, on the soft airs of the autumn night that terrible man-smell came to Ruddy. He stood up, sniffed again and again, and the growl in his throat became deeper. And to Ruddy there also came the sound of someone walking softly around the yard fence--the footsteps of a man who did not want to be discovered.

The setter leaped to the length of his chain and his growl became a bark. Rick, who was coming out of the house after supper, heard this, and hastened to his dog's kennel. He heard Ruddy rumbling in his throat.

"What's the matter, old fellow? Why are you growling?" asked Rick. Of course the different smells on the night air meant nothing to him.

Though a boy's nose is very good for smelling a pie baking in the oven, or, in camp for whiffing the delicious odor of bacon and coffee, a boy's nose is not sharp enough to smell all a dog can smell.

"What's the matter, Ruddy?" asked Rick again. "Why are you growling?"

Of course Ruddy could not speak boy talk, and so he could not tell what had disturbed him, but he kept on growling.

"If it's a tramp trying to sneak around the house, go drive him away!"

ordered Rick.

He loosened the dog's chain and the animal with another bark and growl, darted away in the darkness. Then Rick became fearful lest his new pet should get into danger.

"Come back, Ruddy! Come back!" called the boy.

Ruddy was following that hated odor that lay on the still, night air. He smelled it more plainly now, showing that he was coming nearer to it the farther he went from his new kennel house. Rick was now some distance back.

And then, near a dark clump of bushes, Ruddy came to a sudden stop. The alarming man-smell came from there. Someone was hiding in the bushes--someone Ruddy hated and feared. Again the dog growled.

And then a voice fairly growled back in answer--the voice of a man hidden in the bushes, and angry words were muttered. They were words Ruddy had heard before, and they had often been followed by a blow or a kick.

Ruddy did not want to be hurt again, and so he decided it would be best not to go any nearer that bush. He growled once more, sniffed the air to make sure of the smell, and turned back. Rick was following.

"What is it? What's the matter, old fellow? Why are you growling?" asked Rick, but Ruddy could not answer, and the boy could neither see nor smell anything in the darkness.

The man in the bushes did not stir. Perhaps he had gone to sleep. Ruddy did not know. And then, with a final growl, the dog turned away and, looking up and back to where he dimly saw Rick's form, he followed the boy.

But once, and once again, Ruddy turned, looked back toward the clump of bushes, and growled low and fiercely.

"Was it a tramp or a cat?" asked Rick. "Well, if it's a cat it doesn't much matter. And if it's a tramp, maybe he'll know I have a dog, and I guess he won't come too close to our house. Tramps don't like dogs."

And if it had been light, and if Rick and Ruddy had looked back then, they would have seen, peering out from the screen of the bush, an ugly face. It was the face of a ragged man, and the man, as he saw in the darkness the dog and boy moving away, muttered:

"He nearly smelled me out! Wonder what kind of a dog that was? Looked something like the one I want. Well, I can tell better in the mornin'.

This is a good place to sleep." And he curled up again.

Several times more Ruddy growled down in his throat, and then something came that made him forget the man in the bush. The man whose smell he so well remembered.

With Ruddy leaping and barking about him, Rick got a lantern and went to look at the broken-winged crow in the woodshed. The black bird did not seem to have moved since it had nestled down amid the soft gra.s.s in the box, over which a wire screen had been placed to keep Haw-Haw from fluttering out.

"To-morrow I will mend your broken wing," said Rick, as he looked at his new pet.

Ruddy, forgetting for the time being about the man smell that came from the bush, stood with head on one side looking wonderingly toward the box where the crow nestled.

"I must fix it so Ruddy won't hurt Haw-Haw by mistake," said Rick. "Look here, old fellow," he said to his dog, and tapping the edge of the box, at which sound the crow moved uneasily. "Look here, Ruddy! You mustn't hurt Haw-Haw. Let him alone! He is my crow and he and you and I are going to be friends. Don't hurt this black bird!"

Ruddy whined. He did not quite understand. Something inside him made him want to take this feathered creature in his mouth and carry it somewhere, as the dogs of his family carried birds from the hunting field. And this was the hunting instinct Ruddy felt. But he knew he must also mind his young master. If Rick said not to touch the crow, the crow must not be touched. And so Ruddy made up his mind he would obey his young master.

The dog followed the boy out of the woodshed, and the crow was left alone, which was the best thing for the bird at present. Its heart did not beat so wildly when Rick and Ruddy had gone.

"Come on, Ruddy!" called Rick to his dog. "We'll go over and see Chot!

I'll tell him how I got lost and found a crow!"