CHIPPY GOES ON SCOUT DUTY
Chippy had been at work for Elliott Brothers rather more than a
fortnight, when one day he went down to the waterside warehouse for
some samples. The firm had a huge building at the farther end of Quay
Flat, where they stored the goods they imported.
He was told that he must wait awhile, and he filled up his time by some
scout exercises, giving himself a long glance at a shelf, and then
shutting his eyes and reciting from memory the various articles piled
upon it.
His eyes were still shut, when he heard voices. He opened them, and
saw Dick's father, the head of the firm, walking into the room,
followed by the warehouse manager.
'This is a most extraordinary thing, White,' Mr. Elliott was saying.
'There's certainly a thief about the place, or someone is breaking in
at night.'
'It's a most mysterious affair, sir,' replied White. 'The place was
locked up as usual, and I unlocked everything myself. Every padlock
and fastening was in order, and no window had been tampered with.'
'Yet there's a lot of valuable stuff gone,' said Mr. Elliott. White
shook his head. He seemed utterly bewildered and unable to explain
what had happened.
'I shall go to the police at once,' said Mr. Elliott.
'Yes, sir; there's nothing else for it,' agreed the manager; and the
two, who had been talking as they went through the great storeroom
where Chippy was waiting, passed out at a farther door, and disappeared.
Chippy left his practice, and fell into thought. Things had been
stolen from the warehouse. That was plain enough. The Elliotts were
being robbed. Chippy was on fire in a moment. His friends and
benefactors were being robbed. It was clear that Mr. Elliott meant to
set the police to watch the place. Chippy promised himself that a
certain boy scout would also take a hand in the game. Skinner's Hole
was close by, and his home was not four hundred yards from the
warehouse. That would be convenient for keeping watch.
That evening Chippy ate his supper so slowly and thoughtfully that his
mother asked him what was on his mind.
'It's all right about yer place, ain't it?' she asked anxiously.
'Rather,' replied Chippy, waking up and giving her a cheerful nod.
'This ain't a job like old Blades's. Do yer work, and yer all right at
Elliott Brothers'.'
'Yer seemed a-moonin' like,' said Mrs. Slynn.
'Thinkin',' returned Chippy briefly. 'I got a bit o' scoutin' to do
to-night as 'ull keep me out pretty late, so don't get a-worryin',
mother, an' sendin' people to see if I've dropped into the "Old Cut."'
The Old Cut was a dangerous, unprotected creek, where more than one
resident of Skinner's Hole had been drowned in darkness and fog, and
its name was proverbial on local lips.
'Tek care o' yerself, my boy,' said Mrs. Slynn. 'I don't know what I
should do without yer.'
Chippy waved his hand with an air of lofty protection, and went on with
his supper.
Towards ten o'clock he left the house, and went down a quiet byway to
Quay Flat, and as soon as he got well on the Flat and away from the
gas-lamps, he could see little or nothing. But Chippy had haunted the
Flat all his life, and could find his way across it blindfold. He
headed steadily forward, and a few minutes brought him to the spot
where the huge bulk of the warehouse buildings stood at the river's
edge, black against the sky.
He now commenced a stealthy patrol of the walks, every sense on the
alert, and creeping along as softly as possible. The warehouse
occupied an isolated position on the quay. The river front was now
washed by only a few feet of water, for the tide was nearly out; but
this side was only approachable by boat. A rude pavement of
flag-stones ran round the other three sides, and along this pavement
the Raven meant to hold his patrol march.
The march came to an end almost as soon as it had begun. Chippy turned
an angle of the walls, and pulled up dead. He could hear footsteps a
short distance away. He flitted off to the shelter of a pile of rusty
anchors and iron cables which he knew lay within twenty yards of where
he stood. He found his cover, and crouched behind it. He had barely
gained it when a flood of light swept the pavement he had just left,
and heavy boots tramped forward.
'Huh!' grunted Chippy to himself, 'they've got a bobby on the job. No
call for a boy scout here. I might as well be off home an' go to bed.'
The policeman came forward, stood at the corner, and yawned; then he
slowly paced forward on his beat once more. Chippy waited twenty
minutes, but the constable persistently haunted the warehouse walls; it
was clear that they were the special object of his care to-night.
'It's old Martin,' thought Chippy, who had recognised the constable;
'he's gooin' to potter round all night. I'll get 'ome again.'
Martin disappeared round the farther angle of the walls, and Chippy
stood up to move softly away. But he did not move. He stood still
listening intently. At the moment he straightened himself he felt
certain that he heard a low chuckle somewhere behind him in the
darkness.
Yes, there was someone there. Now he caught the voices of men who
conversed together in tones little above a whisper. Chippy judged they
were some twenty yards from him. Next he heard stealthy sounds as they
moved away.
Who were these people who had crept up so silently that the scout had
heard nothing? Chippy meant to find out, if possible, and already he
had bent down, and his fingers were going like the wind as he whipped
the laces out of the eyelets of his boots. Off came the latter; off
came his stockings. The stockings went into his pockets; the boots
were tied together by their laces and slung round his neck, and away
slipped Chippy in search of the men who had laughed and whispered
together.
He had lost a few seconds in taking off his boots, and the sounds of
their stealthy movements had died away. Chippy dropped flat, and laid
his ear to the ground. This gave him their direction at once, and, to
his surprise, the sounds told him that they were going towards the
river. That was odd. The quay edge was a very dangerous place on so
dark a night as this, but these men were going down to it, and not
across towards the town, as Chippy had expected.
The scout followed with the utmost caution--a caution which he
redoubled as he drew near to the riverside. He would have thought
little of going over the quay wall when the water was up, for that
would only mean a ducking, and he could swim like a fish. But in some
places patches of deep mud were laid bare at low tide, spots in which
the finest swimmer would flounder, sink, and perish. Chippy sought for
a mooring-post, and was full of delight when his hands came against a
huge oaken bole, scored with rope-marks and polished with long service.
These stood in line along the quay some ten yards apart, and Chippy
worked from one to the other, and followed his men, who were still
ahead, but moving very slowly. It was quite certain that the two in
front knew the quay well, or they would not be here at this time.
Suddenly a match spurted, and a pipe was lighted. The men had come a
good way now from the warehouse, and were quite out of sight of the
constable. The light of the match showed the scout that there were two
of them, and they had halted in lee of a fish-curing shed, now locked
up for the night. The shed stood in a very lonely part of the quay,
where no one ever went after nightfall. The men began to talk
together, and Chippy crept closer and closer until he could catch their
words.
'Laugh!' said one, as if in answer to a remark the scout had not
caught--'who could help laughin'? To see old Martin postin' up an'
down, round an' round, just on the sides we want him to. If he started
to swim up an' down t'other side, now, it might be a bit awkward for
us.'
'Ah,' replied his companion, 'it'll be a long time before they tumble
to the idea of anybody workin' 'em from the river-front. How did ye
get round to the trap this mornin'?'
'Easy as winking,' said the first speaker. 'I made a little errand
there, and slipped the bolts, and there it all was, as right as rain.'
'It's a clippin' dodge,' murmured the second man. 'We'll have another
good go to-night, then leave it for two or three months till all's
quiet again.'
'We will,' agreed the other. 'The boat's ready, I suppose?'
'Yes; I've seen to all that,' was the answer. 'She's lyin' at
Ferryman's Slip, just swingin' by her painter. It'll be slack water
pretty soon. We can start in about half an hour or so.'