His stall was always to be found near the rest, and it was never stocked but with one thing—a kind of toffee with horehound in it. He made it himself, and vended it as a certain cure for coughs and colds.
As Chippy and his companion came up, Hoppity Jack was screaming with rage, and the crowd of idle boys tormenting him was convulsed with laughter. A long-armed wharf-rat had flung a piece of dried mud and sent the old man's queer tall hat spinning from his head.
The thrower was laughing loudly with the rest, when a sound fell on his ear. 'Kar-kaw! Kar-kaw!' He whipped round, for he was a member of the Raven Patrol, and saw his leader a dozen yards away, and ran up at once.
'Wot d'yer want, Chippy?' he cried.
'Come out o' that,' commanded Chippy—'come out an' stop out. Wot sort o' game is that un for a scout?'
'On'y a bit of a lark wi' old Hoppity Jack,' said the surprised Raven. 'Why, yer've bin in it yerself many a time, Chippy.'
The patrol-leader went rather red. No one likes to be reminded of the days when he was unregenerate. But he spoke firmly.
'We got to chuck them games now, Ted. Theer's Law 5, yer know. He's old, an' more 'n a bit of a cripple.'
'Well, I'm blest!' murmured the astonished Ted. 'I never thought o' the scoutin' comin' into this.'
'It does, though,' replied Chippy, 'an' we got to stand by an' lend 'im a hand, as far as I can mek' it out.'