''Sides, I got somethin' privit to say to him—somethin' privit 'n important, see.'
This was more convincing, but it excited curiosity.
''Bout Tin ribs?' queried Peterson.
'Likely I'd tell you. Clear out, go on. You can be captain of the band if you like, Jacker; 'n mind you don't give it away.'
Dick gained his point, as usual, and prepared for a quite casual descent upon Harry, who had not yet seen the boys. The plan brought Dicky, 'shanghai' in hand, under the tree where Hardy sat. The boy was apparently oblivious of everything but the parrots up aloft, and it was not till after he had had his shot that he returned the young man's salutation. Then he took a seat astride the log and offered some commonplace information about a nest of joeys in a neighboring tree and a tame magpie that had escaped, and was teaching all the other magpies in Wilson's paddocks to whistle a jig and curse like a drover. But he got down to his point rather suddenly after all.
'Say, Harry, was you goin' to lambaste Tinribs?'
Tinribs?
'Yes, old Shine—this mornin', you know.'
Harry looked into the boy's eye and lied, but Dick was not deceived.
''Twould a-served him good,' he said thoughtfully; 'but you oughter get on to him when Miss Shine ain't about. She's terrible good an' all that—better 'n Miss Keeley, don't you think?'