Rick and Ruddy Part 16

CHAPTER XII

RUDDY IS GONE

Rick dropped his strap of school books that had been swinging around his head as he ran home.

"Come on, Ruddy!" the boy called to his dog. "We'll see who is doing that whistling!"

And by the sharp, short bark the setter gave his master knew that the dog was as ready as he, himself, to find out who was trying to play a trick on them, if anyone was.

"Wait a minute, Rick!" called his mother, as the two friends ran toward the gate. "What was that you said about a tramp sailor?"

Rick repeated what the coast guard had told him.

"Then you'd better be careful how you let Ruddy run loose," went on Mrs.

Dalton. "Do you think the sailor is hiding out there now, trying to call Ruddy?"

"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.

"Come down out of that, Haw-Haw! Come down!" called Rick, and there was a flittering amid the branches of the tree on which there were still a few leaves. Haw-Haw, whose broken wing had healed, not enough to permit him to fly well, but enough so that he could flutter up into the low branches of trees, came half tumbling down, half soaring and perched himself on Rick's shoulder.

"I didn't know you could whistle!" exclaimed the boy. "I was going to teach you, Haw-Haw, but I guess you must have taught yourself. Whistle again for me!"

But Haw-Haw did not seem to want to do this. He preened his glossy black feathers with his black bill, and made funny little noises down in his throat.

Ruddy, his head on one side, peered up at the crow on Rick's shoulder and the queer, puzzled look was still on the dog's face.

"It's all right, Ruddy! It's all right," said Rick, patting his setter's head. "It was only Haw-Haw whistling for you."

Rick had been so busy having fun and going to school that, after his father had set the crow's broken wing, the boy had almost forgotten about his black bird. But Haw-Haw had grown stronger and he had grown tame--so tame that he would perch on the shoulders of any members of the family and let them feed him. Rick had been talking of teaching the crow to talk and whistle, as he had read could be done. But he kept putting it off, for one reason and another, until he was much surprised by hearing the crow's whistle.

"Did you find who it was trying to call Ruddy?" asked Rick's mother, as he came back in the yard with the crow on his shoulder and the dog leaping around him, barking joyously and excitedly. Ruddy did not altogether like Haw-Haw being so friendly with Rick.

"It was my crow whistling!" said Rick.

"Your crow?" exclaimed Mrs. Dalton, in surprise.

"Yes. He must have been listening to me at different times, until he got so he could whistle just as I do when I call Ruddy. And Haw-Haw certainly sounded natural. He fooled even you; didn't he, Ruddy?"

The dog barked as much as to say:

"He certainly did!"

Just how Haw-Haw learned to whistle Rick never found out. Certainly the boy did not cut the crow's tongue, and perhaps whistling came natural to the black bird. And it may be that it was not a regular "whistle" at all, but merely a sound like that. Of course a bird has no lips to pucker up and whistle with, as boys have, and some girls, too. But many birds utter whistling notes when they sing, or give their calls. The quail, or Bob White, seems to whistle, and so does the Whip-poor-will.

And I have heard many men who can, by whistling with their tongue and lips, imitate many birds. I have even heard a man whistle like a robin, and so nearly perfectly as to deceive a cat. p.u.s.s.y came running into the room where the man was whistling, looking around to find the feathered songster.

So it is easily possible for a crow to imitate the whistle of a boy, and this is what Haw-Haw had done. He must have practised by himself in the woodshed, whistling in low notes at first, as a singer does who is not quite sure of the air. And then, when he found he could imitate Rick's cheerful call to his dog, the crow had fluttered out into a tree, and had sent his shrill notes echoing.

"Well, now I know you can whistle I'm going to teach you to talk, Haw-Haw," said Rick.

The boy began that very afternoon on the crow's further education. Rick got from the kitchen some pieces of meat, which the black bird liked very much, and, holding one chunk up near the sharp, strong bill, said:

"Now, Haw-Haw, let me hear you say something! Say 'I want a piece of meat!'"

But whether this was too long a sentence for the crow to start on, or whether he did not understand what Rick wanted I can not say. At any rate Haw-Haw said nothing. He did not even whistle. He just held his head on one side, as Ruddy sometimes did when Rick was talking to him, and Haw-Haw looked at the chunk of meat held in Rick's fingers so temptingly near.

"Go on! Say something!" exclaimed Rick.

Suddenly Ruddy, who was sitting up just behind his master, gave a bark.

Ruddy's eyes, too, were on the meat, and perhaps he thought his boy master was talking to him. At any rate Ruddy barked, Rick turned his head aside for a moment to speak to his setter pet.

And at that instant Haw-Haw, seeing his chance, took it. Rick felt a sudden jab at his fingers, the meat was s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 cla.s.ses 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.