"Home, Ruddy! Home!" said Rick.

And straight toward home Ruddy led Rick.

As the two walked on, Ruddy keeping a little ahead all the while, it grew darker. Night was fast settling down, though it would be lighter once they were out from among the trees. As they neared the edge of the woods Rick halted and looked about.

"Maybe Chot is in here, and he may be lost, too," he thought. "I'd better call him."

So he did, and Ruddy joined in with loud barks, but the other boy did not answer. As Rick learned, later, Chot had not gone to the woods at all. So, after waiting a bit, and calling once or twice, Ruddy helping, Rick walked on with his dog.

Suddenly, as they were nearing a path, which Rick remembered now as the one he had followed into the woods, Ruddy, with a loud bark, sprang toward something that fluttered among the low branches of a tree.

A black object flew out, uttering a loud:

"Haw! Haw! Haw!"

"A crow!" cried Rick. "It's a crow!"

And so it was. Again sounded the loud:

"Haw! Haw! Haw!"

Crows really utter that cry, rather than "Caw!" as most persons think.

Listen the next time you hear crows, and see if this is not so.

"Bow-wow!" barked the dog.

"Haw! Haw!" croaked the crow.

It fluttered on through the bushes and then fell to the ground.

"Its wing is broken!" cried Rick. "Somebody must have shot it, and it can't fly!"

With an eager bark Ruddy rushed toward the bird which was scrabbling around among the leaves in a little hollow on the ground. The crow seemed to be all tired out, and could not even flutter now. Rick cried aloud:

"Don't kill it, Ruddy! Don't kill it!"

He rushed up to save the black bird, hardly knowing why he was doing it, for he had been told, with truth, that crows eat the eggs of other, and better birds, as well as destroy the farmer's corn.

"Maybe I can tame this crow and get him to talk," said Rick. "Down, Ruddy! Down!"

The dog knew what this meant. He stopped barking; he stopped trying to bite the crow, and stood off to one side. Careful to keep his hands away from the sharp, strong beak, Rick picked up the crow. It was a young one, and a drooping wing showed it was hurt.

"You're going to be my crow!" said Rick. "I'll call you Haw-Haw, and take you home. Ruddy, don't hurt this crow! I'm going to tame him!"

He held the black bird out in his hands for Ruddy to look at.

"Haw! Haw!" the crow cried, rather feebly.

"Bow-wow!" barked Ruddy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rick picked up the crow!]

Perhaps they were talking to one another in that mysterious animal language. At any rate Ruddy seemed to understand what Rick had said, and never after that did he try to hurt Haw-Haw. As for the crow--well, I'll tell you more about him presently.

"Now we got to go home, Ruddy," said Rick. "Mother will be worried about me. We got to go home!"

And Ruddy, holding his head on one side, looked at Rick and at Haw-Haw and then, with a short bark, led the way out of the woods, and along the path to Belemere.

"Now we're all right," said Rick to himself. "I'm not lost any more, and I've got a new pet! I wonder if you'll talk?" he asked the crow with the broken wing.

CHAPTER VII

WHY DID RUDDY GROWL?

Rick and Ruddy tramped together along the path that led out of the woods, Rick carrying the crow, which he had already named Haw-Haw. The black bird, wild at first when the boy had taken it up, was now more quiet, as Rick held it under one arm. But Rick could feel its heart beating fast beneath the glossy feathers.

Ruddy trotted along, now and then looking up at his master, as if trying to guess what it was all about. Perhaps the setter was wondering if Rick, in caring for this new, strange pet, would no longer go on romps and tramps in the woods with the dog who so loved to be among the trees and the dried leaves, looking for birds.

It was the nature of Ruddy to hunt birds, not for himself but for whoever was his master. So, in a way, it seemed perfectly right for Rick to be taking home this bird, even if it was only a crow.

Ruddy was an Irish setter, one of the three varieties of setter dogs much used for hunting. Ruddy's coat was like his name, a rich dark red in color. The Gordon setter has a black coat, marked with dark brown, and the English setter is nearly white, with mottled spots of different color.

A hundred years ago, when men used to spread nets to catch birds, when they could not shoot them because they had not then the right kind of guns, dogs like Ruddy were used to help the hunters. The setters were taught to go in the underbrush, find the game birds, come to a "point"--that is point their noses toward where they saw the quail, grouse or pheasants, and then the dogs crouched down, or "set," as the English hunters called it. That is how the "setter" dog got its name. It would "set," or lie down low, in the gra.s.s, so the net of the hunter could be thrown over its head to enmesh the half-hidden birds.

Ruddy had never helped hunt birds with a net, but, years back, his ancestors had, and the name clung to him. So, also, did the love of hunting in the woods. To chase birds, to bark at them, to love to see them scurry away as he ran toward them was as natural to Ruddy as it is natural for a bulldog to hold fast to whatever he gets between his jaws.

And so, as Ruddy walked along beside Rick, the red setter was thinking:

"Well, my master caught one bird, anyhow. That is doing very well for a starter. Maybe to-morrow we shall go to the woods again, and I'll find more birds for him to catch."

For, really, if it had not been that Ruddy frightened the crow into fluttering off the branch where it had taken refuge, after being shot, Rick might never have found it.

"Dear me! Where have you been?" cried Rick's mother, as he came marching into the yard, carrying the crow and followed by Ruddy.

"I was off in the woods," answered the boy. "And I was lost, but Ruddy showed me the way home."

"Lost! Oh, Rick! You mustn't go to the woods alone and get lost!"

"I wasn't alone," he answered. "Ruddy was with me. I can't get lost with him. He always will know the way back, I guess. But I didn't see Chot."

"No, he came, after you had gone, to say he couldn't meet you in the woods," said Mrs. Dalton. "I thought you would come right back when you didn't find him. You stayed so long that I was getting afraid. I was just going to send your father after you."

"I was afraid myself," spoke Rick. "But Ruddy is a good dog. He didn't know what I meant first, when I told him to go home, after I couldn't tell where the path was. But, after a while, he knew what I said and he led me straight."

"What you got?" asked Mazie, seeing the black, feathered creature in her brother's hands.