“Ah! That’s because you’re so young, Mas’ Don. You’ll know better some day. Parrots is as cunning as cunning. Well, now, did you ever see the likes of that? He’s laughing and jeering at us.”
For at that moment the bird began to bob its head up and down rapidly, gradually growing more excited, and chattering all the while, as it ended by dancing first on one leg and then on the other, in the most eccentric fashion.
“I should like to have that bird, Jem,” said Don at last.
“Should you? Then you wouldn’t have me along with you.”
“I don’t like him. I like a bird as can behave itself and whistle and sing and perch; but I don’t like one as goes through all them monkey tricks. Wish I’d got a stone, I’d try and knock him off his perch.”
Chur–r–r–r! Shrieked the bird, and it let itself fall over backwards, dropping down head over heels like a tumbler pigeon, or an unfortunate which had been shot, and disappearing among the leaves far below.
“There!” cried Jem, triumphantly; “now, what do you say to that? Heard what I said, he did, and thought I was going to throw.”
“Nonsense, Jem!”
“Ah! You may call it nonsense, Mas’ Don, because you don’t know better, but you didn’t see him fall.”
“Yes, I saw him fall, and—hist! Creep back; there’s some one coming!”