Now the Toyman was forever saying funny and surprising things, but he
never said anything funnier and more surprising in his life than what
he told that patent-medicine man.

"No, thank you, Mr. Steve Jorkins"--that's just what he called him,
not Dr. Pipp at all--"that medicine of yours isn't magic. It wouldn't
even cure a chicken of the pip."

Then all the men crowded around the Toyman, calling him by his old
name.

"Do you know him, Frank? Is he fooling us?"

"You bet he is," replied the Toyman, "and he's got all your
hard-earned money in his jeans."

Then he called to the boys to "come quick," for he thought there would
be trouble, and there was.

For all those men and boys in the crowd climbed up on the wagon--and
they grabbed Dr. Philemon Pipp by his fine fur collar--and they made
him give back their money, every last cent of it. Then, while some of
them held him, the others smashed all his bottles until the black
juice ran over the tailboard like a dark waterfall, and they hurled
his high silk hat on the top of the lamp-post, yelling,--

"You git out of here, quick! Come, skedaddle!"

And since, in his fright, he didn't "skedaddle" fast enough to suit
them, they threw beets and all sorts of vegetables at him, vegetables