One day, when Sig Bailey, the coast guard, was sitting outside the life-saving station, making a little boat from a piece of wood, he saw a shadow in front of him--a shadow cast on the beach by the bright October sun. The life guard looked up and saw, standing before him, a ragged man on whose face grew scraggily whiskers--not a good, proper beard, but whiskers as though the man ought to have shaved but had been too lazy--or else had not had a chance. If the guard had known, this was the same man Ruddy had smelled and rumbled at.

"Mornin' mate!" growled the ragged man, as he rubbed his rough, scraggy, stubby chin. "Can you give me somethin' to eat?"

Sig looked at the man closely and then answered slowly:

"Well, I guess maybe I can ask the captain to. He's boss here. I'm only one of the crew."

"Regular ship rules you have around here; eh?" asked the man.

"Something like that--yes," answered Sig. "In winter we all live here at the station, and the captain is in charge. In the summer I live inland, and come on duty at night. But the full crew is here now and--well, I'll see if I can get you anything. Sit down."

The ragged man sat down on the bench outside the coast guard station, while Sig went to find the captain.

Besides the house in which the captain, his wife and the crew lived at the Belemere life-saving station, there was another building in which was stored the motor life-boat, and other things, by means of which pa.s.sengers and crews were taken off vessels that might go ash.o.r.e on the beach.

Some of the crew were working about the boat now--painting her and others were looking over the ropes and the bomb-gun by which a line is shot out to a vessel when it is too rough to use the boat. The captain was in the cottage writing out some reports he had to send to Washington.

"There's a man outside who wants something to eat," said Sig to Captain White.

"What sort of a man is he?"

"Looks like a tramp, but I guess he's been a sailor to judge by his walk."

"Oh, well, we can't turn anyone away hungry; eh, Mother?" he asked his wife, who was busy in the kitchen.

"I can give him a plate of beef stew," she answered.

"Guess that would just about fit in his locker," spoke Sig, with a grin.

"I'll take it out to him."

And presently the wanderer was gratefully eating the hot bowl of stew as he sat on the bench beside Sig, who had again started work on making the boat. Sig was going to give the boat to Rick when it was finished.

"Live around here?" asked the life guard of the tramp.

"No. Just drifted in. I've had hard luck ever since I lost my dog."

"Lost your dog!" exclaimed Sig, and a queer feeling came into his heart. "What kind of a dog did you have?"

"He was sort of reddish--a setter I guess he was. Got washed overboard one night just about off this coast I reckon. We were wrecked ourselves right after that, and I haven't had any luck since. I figger I lost my luck when I lost my dog. Wish I could get him back!"

Sig looked sharply at the ragged man. Could he be after Ruddy?

CHAPTER IX

RUDDY HELPS SALLIE

Eagerly and hungrily the ragged man ate the bowl of meat and broth. Sig watched him until he had finished and set the bowl down on the bench beside him.

"Yes, I've had bad luck ever since I lost my dog," half growled the ragged man. "I found the dog--he was living in an ash barrel down where I stayed near the dock. I took him on the boat with me for luck. Nice little pup he was--sort of brown in color--a dark red. I took him along for luck, but I didn't have any."

"Didn't you?" asked Sig. He was doing some hard thinking. Only that morning he had seen Rick and Ruddy racing along the beach together, and it was hard to say which was the happier--the dog or the boy.

"No, I didn't have any luck," went on the ragged sailor, who was not half as pretty to look at as the flower of that name. "I took that pup with me when I went on the _Mary Jane_--that was the name of the schooner. But a storm came up--right when we got off this coast. I was nearly washed overboard myself, and the pup was--completely. I guess he was drowned. No dog could live in that storm. He couldn't get ash.o.r.e."

The life guard did not answer. He was not sure that Ruddy was the dog the tramp had taken along "for luck" as he said. And it would not be fair to Rick or Ruddy to send this man--this ragged sailor--to see if he could claim the red pup. Sig shook his head.

"We did have a bad storm early in September," he said. "Regular north-easter. I didn't see any wreck around here, though."

"Well, the schooner wasn't exactly wrecked--at least not then," went on the ragged man. "But my dog was washed overboard--a red pup he was, and I haven't had any luck since. After the storm our boat got leaking, and we had to put in. I lost my place on the _Mary Jane_ and I haven't had any work since--that is not regular work. No luck at all. Maybe if I could find that dog I'd have luck again. But I don't see him around here."

"No, we haven't any dogs," said Sig. And again he made up his mind to say nothing about Ruddy. After all it might not be the same dog.

Besides, this man did not look as though he would be kind to dogs, and no one has a right to own a dog, or any other animal, unless he is kind.

"Much obliged for the soup," said the ragged sailor, as he got up from the bench. "I feel better now. Maybe I'll have some luck after this."

"I hope so," spoke Sig, as kindly as he could.

"Maybe I'll find my dog," went on the wayfarer. "Guess I'll look around this village a bit. It's right about off sh.o.r.e here that he was washed overboard. He might have swum to land, though I doubt it. But I'll look around. I think I'd have better luck if I could have my dog!"

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.

And so the setter pup, for the next three days, was kept in his kennel, or only allowed to run out at night when Rick held him on a leash. Ruddy did not like it. He whined and barked to be set free, so he might run where he pleased. But Rick, looking into the brown eyes said:

"No, Ruddy; you must stay close to the house these days. I don't want to lose you. No ragged sailor tramp is going to get you!"