"Don't be bad, Toady Lion," said his sister, gently taking him by the hand; "come and look at nice picture-books."
"Will be bad," growled Toady Lion, stamping his little foot in impotent wrath; "doan want t' look at pitchur-books—want to go and fight! And I will go too, so there!"
And in his fiery indignation he even kicked at his sister Prissy, and threw stones after the boat in which the expedition had sailed. The gipsy division, which was to wait till they heard the noise of battle roll up from the castle island before cutting loose, took pity on Sir Toady Lion, and but for the special nature of the service required of them, they would, I think, have taken him with them.
"That's a rare well-plucked little 'un!" cried Joe Baillie. "See how he shuts his fists, and cuts up rough!"
"A little man!" said the leader encouragingly; "walks into his sister's shins, don't he, the little codger!"
"Let me go wif you, please," pleaded Toady Lion; "I'll kill you unless!—Kill you every one!" And his voice was full of bloodshed.
"Last time 'twas me that d'livered Donald, when they all runned away or got took prisoner; and now they won't even take me wif them!"
Billy regretfully shook his head. It would not do to be cumbered with small boys in the desperate mission on which they were going. The hope was forlorn enough as it was.
"Wait till we come back, little 'un," he said kindly; "run away and play with your sister."