"Vell, the fact of the matter is, I am strolling round 'ere just for the fun of shooting parrots."
"You know that you are lying," Fred said, sternly.
The fellow seemed to think a compliment had been paid him, for he grinned so hard that the dirt actually cracked on his face and peeled off in scales. A motion towards our rifles brought him to his reason.
"Stop that," he cried, "and I'll tell hall."
"Go on," we repeated.
"Vell, then, I s'pose I'm 'ere for the same thing as vot you're here for."
"Well, what is that?" I asked.
"Vy, you know—the hold boy's tin vich he buried afore he vas taken up and dished."
"What do you mean?" I inquired, wishing to see how much he knew.
"O, don't 'tempt to gammon me, 'case I knows by the way that yer does—that yer knows all 'bout the trick. But I say, can't I come in for shooks?"