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 that the Bug was reluctantly chipping in, and that the confab was quite prolix. Then I sat up and began to notice things. For Tib was crying:

"‘What does the ribbon say, gents? Why, it says the chief has won this lead-pencil. Allow me.' And, hang me, sir, if he didn't pass over something to Pooh-Bah. 'Now again we shake the magic box, and who wins? Why, this sweet-faced, toothless woman, a wife of our host. A genuine seal-skin pocket-book to you, madame. And yet again, and lo! this young scion of indigo nobility gets a penknife.' And through it all he was shaking the parrot-cage and reading results from the same.

"Well, sir, it caught the mob. The old chief was there to remain a fixture so long as he could receive honoraria, and to cap the finale, Tib gravely removed a spear from a petrified private's hand and gave that to the boss. You see, they couldn't understand his jabber, except as Wogo, three yards behind, tried to deal it out, but they did appreciate the old parrot-cage was cutting up Ned with their possessions, and they were curious to learn more.

"Then in his crippled Spanish, aided and abetted by the Bug, the old chap told them a lot of truths and rattled the cage incessantly. As he finished and bowed gravely, as if dismissing them, a low chorus of amazed grunts ran around the chocolate circle.

"‘Git up!' hissed Tib, as he returned to me.