Chippy looked over his shoulder, and measured the distance he would have to run down the alley before he could find cover. No go. If he ran, the scout of the other side would see him scuttling, and suspect something. Besides, Chippy was well known. He was a famous leader in this kind of warfare. So he curled himself up as round as a hedgehog, and lay hidden behind the box, with his eye at a crack.
He gave a little grunt to himself as he saw Dick Elliott look carefully along the alley before he went on down the lane. Chippy was glad he hadn't run; he would certainly have been seen. But as soon as Dick had passed, he was up and away down the alley at full speed. He made a couple of turns along side-streets, and then Quay Flat lay before him. He put his fingers into his mouth and gave a long, shrill whistle. There was no answer, but Chippy was quite satisfied. He knew that his warriors would understand. From another carefully chosen spot he watched Dick Elliott come out on Quay Flat and look all about. But the braves of Skinner's Hole had caught their chief's whistle, and were lying hidden among piles of old cordage and rusty anchors which were heaped in one corner of the Flat. Dick ran back up the lane.
'I can't see anyone about,' he reported. 'The Flat looks as quiet as can be.'
'Come on!' said Arthur Graydon to the other boys. 'Keep together; and if the wharf-rats come out, we'll give 'em beans!'
The band of Grammar School boys gained the Flat, and struck out for the bridge which crossed the river and led to the suburb in which lay their homes.
All went quietly till they were well out in the open space, and then the wharf-rats set up a tremendous yell and darted from their ambush. A furious battle was started at once on the Flat. Stones flew like hail on both sides, and then the combatants came to close quarters, and the fray developed into a series of stand-up fights, with every boy yelling like mad.
'Slug 'em! slug 'em, Skinner's 'Ole!' howled the wharf-rats. 'Out 'em! Down 'em, Skinner's 'Ole!'
'Rally, School!' shouted Dick Elliott.
'Drive 'em into the river!' bellowed Arthur Graydon. The latter was fighting with a couple of heavy books buckled tightly into a long, stout strap, and he fetched a couple of his opponents down with swinging blows. Suddenly he was confronted with the rival chieftain, the redoubtable Chippy. Arthur swung his books at Chippy's head, but the latter was far too quick for so slowly delivered a stroke, and was inside his opponent's guard in a flash. Chippy's dirty fist was planted with stinging force in Arthur's right eye, and Arthur went over like a ninepin.
At the next instant Chippy and Dick Elliott were face to face, and Chippy, who was very handy with his fists found, for the first time, a foeman to be reckoned with. They had a sharp rally; then they closed, and Dick, who was a capital wrestler, threw his man with ease. Down went Chippy, and saw ten thousand and one stars, for the back of his head was brought up hard against the flags of the quay.