"There ain't any tigers in Africa, smarty!"

"You got me that time," laughed Nick; "where is father?"

"He went out of the door a minute ago; he is standing by the gate," said
the mother, after a quick glance through the window.

Mr. Ribsam was leaning on the gate-post, as was a favorite custom of
his, and the tobacco smoke ascended in clouds and rings, as though he
was a locomotive tugging hard at a train, with the wheels continually
slipping.

He looked at the boys without stirring or speaking, as they passed out
the gate and gently closed it, so as not to jar the old gentleman
leaning upon it.

When they had gone a rod or so, Mr. Ribsam called out:

"Nicholas!"

"Yes, sir!" answered the son, wheeling instantly.

The father took the long stem of his pipe from his mouth, emitted a
blast of vapor, and then shut his eyes and flung his head backward with
a quick flirt, which meant that his boy should come to him.

Nick obeyed with his usual promptness, and paused immediately in front
of his parent, while Sam Harper stopped short and looked backward at the
two, with the purpose of waiting until the interview ended.