"Hi, hi, hi," bawled the omnibus-drivers, threading a dangerous way.

A drunken American sailor wandered about tearfully inquiring, "What's he want anyhow ?" A leathery-faced rag-dealer upon a little pony-drawn cart soared up over the tumult by virtue of his voice.

"Garn 'ome, you Brasted Giant!" he brawled, "Garn 'Ome! You Brasted Great Dangerous Thing! Can't you see you're a-frightening the 'orses?
Go _'ome_ with you! 'Asn't any one 'ad the sense to tell you the law ?" And over all this uproar young Caddles stared, perplexed, expectant, saying no more.
Down a side road came a little string of solemn policemen, and threaded itself ingeniously into the traffic.

"Stand back," said the little voices; "keep moving, please." Young Caddles became aware of a little dark blue figure thumping at his shin.

He looked down, and perceived two white hands gesticulating.
"_What_ ?" he said, bending forward.
"Can't stand about here," shouted the inspector.
"No! You can't stand about here," he repeated.
"But where am I to go ?" "Back to your village.