HOPPITY JACK'S STALL
When Chippy left the station and gained Skinner's Hole, he put away his
patrol flag carefully behind the tall clock, which was the only
ornament of the poor squalid place he called home, and then turned to
and helped his mother with a number of odd jobs.
'There ain't much supper for yer,' she said--'on'y some bread an' a
heel o' cheese.'
'That's aw' right,' said Chippy. 'Gie it to the little uns. I don't
want none.'
He left the house and strolled towards a corner of Quay Flat, where on
Saturday nights and holidays a sort of small fair was always held. One
or two shooting-galleries, a cocoa-nut 'shy,' and a score or more of
stalls laden with fruit, sweetmeats, and the like, were brilliantly
lighted up by naphtha flares. Towards this patch of brightness all
loungers and idlers were drawn like moths to a candle, and Chippy, too,
moved that way. It was now about half-past nine, and the little fair
was at its busiest.
As he went he was joined by an acquaintance, who held out a penny
packet of cigarettes.
'Have a fag, Chippy?' he said.
'Not me, thenks,' replied Chippy. 'I've chucked 'em.'
'Chucked 'em!' replied his friend in amazement. 'What for?'
'They ain't no good,' said Chippy. 'There ain't one in our patrol as
touches a fag now. If he did, I'd soon boot 'im. 'Ow are yer goin' to
smell an enemy or a fire or sommat like that half a mile off if yer
spoil yer smell wi' smokin'?'
'I dunno,' replied the other. 'Who wants to smell things all that way?
Why don't yer go and look?'
'Yer can't always,' returned Chippy, 'and when you dussn't go close, it
comes in jolly handy to be able to smell 'em, and them wot smoke can't
do it. So there ain't no fags for boy scouts!'
'I like a cig now and then,' said the other boy.
'Who's stoppin' yer?' asked Chippy loftily. 'You ain't a boy scout:
you don't count.'
This view of the case rather nettled Chippy's acquaintance, and he
began to argue the matter. But he was no match for Chippy there. Away
went the latter in full burst upon his beloved topic, and the other
heard of such pleasures and such fascinating sport that his cigarette
went out, and was finally tossed aside, as he listened.
'Yer don't want another in the Ravens, do yer, Chippy?' he asked
eagerly.
'Not now,' returned Chippy, 'but we could mek' another patrol, I
dessay. I'll talk to Mr. Elliott about it.'
'Righto, Chippy,' returned the other. 'I know plenty as 'ud like to
join. I've heard 'em talkin' about it, but I hadn't got 'old of it as
you've been givin' it me. Hello, wot's up here? Here's a
lark--they're havin' a game wi' old Hoppity Jack, and there's ne'er a
copper about.'
While talking, the boys had drawn near the noisy crowd of Skinner's
Hole residents gathered around the stalls and shooting-galleries. One
of the stalls stood a little away from the rest, and instead of a huge
naphtha flare, was only lighted by a couple of candles set in battered
old stable-lanterns. The owner of the stall was a queer little bent
old man wearing an immensely tall top-hat and a very threadbare suit of
black. The collar of his coat was turned up and tied round his neck
with a red handkerchief, and the ends of the handkerchief mingled with
a flowing grey beard. He was a well-known character of Skinner's Hole,
and the boys called him Hoppity Jack, because one of his legs was
shorter than the other, so that his head bobbed up and down as he
walked.
He kept a small herbalist's shop, and stored it with simples which he
rambled far and wide over heath and upland to gather, and dry, and tie
up in bunches. On Sundays he betook himself to the public park of
Bardon, carrying a small stand. From this stand he delivered long
lectures, whenever he could gather an audience, on the subject of the
ten lost tribes of Israel. Altogether, he was one of those curious
characters whom one finds at times in the byways of life. His many
oddities marked him out very distinctly from other people, and often
made him a butt for the rude jokes and horseplay of idle loungers on
Quay Flat.
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.'
'He'll want a hand, too,' said Chippy's acquaintance. 'They're goin'
to upset the stall an' collar the toffee.'
It was true; a number of boys were gathering for a rush, while Hoppity
Jack danced in frenzy up and down in front of his stall and shouted for
the police. But though no police were near, a staunch band of helpers
sprang up as if by magic to aid the poor badgered old fellow beset by
enemies.
The Raven patrol call rang out, and was answered swiftly. Most of the
Ravens had come out on to Quay Flat after their return home, and in a
trice Chippy was at the head of six of his scouts. His orders were
brief.
'We got to stand that lot off old Hoppity,' he said, and every Raven
wondered, but obeyed, for they adored their clever leader, and were
held in strict discipline.
At that moment the marauders made their rush, but, to their great
surprise, they were taken in flank by a charge which hurled them into
utter confusion, and sent them rolling to the ground, one on the other.
The seven scouts had timed their assault to the moment, and sent their
opponents over like ninepins. There was a sharp, short scuffle when
the assailants got to their feet, but it soon ended in favour of the
patrol. Chippy had known what he was about when he enrolled his men,
and the pick of Skinner's Hole now fought under his command.
'No punchin',' roared Chippy. 'Just start 'em. Like this! ' He
bounded up to the leader of the rush on the stall--a youth a good head
taller than himself--and gave him an open-handed slap on the jaw, which
rang like a pistol-shot. The Ravens leapt to support him, and the
marauders were driven off in short order, the Raven who had knocked the
old man's hat off now exerting himself with tremendous zeal to show the
sincerity of his repentance.
'That's aw' right,' said Chippy to his followers when the enemy were in
full flight; 'yer off duty now.'
'But look 'ere, Chippy,' said the corporal, Sam Fitt by name, 'have we
got to be ready any time to stand up for Hoppity Jack sort o' people?
O' course, now we had orders from you, an' that's plain enough. But is
it a reg'lar game?'
'Of course it is, Sam,' said Chippy; 'you can't be a scout when yer
like an' then drop it for a lark. Yer must play the game all the time.'
Thus did Chippy turn from serving his country to saving Hoppity Jack's
stall, and it was all in the day's work.