The crier limped slowly down the street toward us. We all halted to hear his next announcement. Stopping in the middle of the street he solemnly rang his bell two or three times. Then he threw back his head, and bellowed in a tremendous voice:
"Hear—what—I—have—to—say! Stolen! the cat-boat—Hannah—J.— Pettingell—from—Mulliken's Wharf—yesterday—afternoon! Reward —will—be—paid—for information!—Apply—to—the—owner—at— the Eagle—House!"
CHAPTER VIII
HUNTING THE HOPPERGRASS
"Did you ever hear the like of that?" said Mr. Daddles, in a kind of awed whisper; "don't move,—he's going to do it again!"
But Ed Mason, Jimmy Toppan, and I were not be to restrained.
"That's the 'Hoppergrass'!" we all burst out, at the same instant.
"What's the 'Hopper'—?" began Mr. Daddles, but his voice was drowned out by the crier. Beginning with his "Hear what I have to say!" he repeated the announcement word for word as he had given it the first time. Then he rang his bell with four, slow, deliberate motions, and started to hobble away.
We were after him in a second.
"Where is it?"