“What’s ‘walk the plank’?” whispered one of the pirates in pigtails to another with long, yellow curls.
“Charlie says that it is like the spring-board which the boys use in swimming,” answered the curly pirate. “But that doesn’t sound very terrible, does it?”
“No,” said the pigtailed one. “But perhaps there is something more.”
The procession marched up the rocks to the entrance of the cave, led by Bloody Dick, who held the end of the rope which bound all the prisoners together, while Slippery Joe guarded the rear. One by one the prisoners were pushed in, bent almost double, for the opening was low. But once inside, they found a high room, big enough to hold them all. It was shadowy but not very dark, for besides the door there was a hole which went up through the roof like a chimney.
“Oh, what a fine cave!” cried Aunt Clare, forgetting that she was a prisoner.
“Sh!” warned Bloody Dick. Kenneth looked so fierce in a tarpaulin hat and long rubber boots, with his belt stuck full of Fourth-of-July pistols, that Aunt Clare almost trembled. “Silence, till our Captain speaks!” he commanded.
There was no captain in sight, but presently there was a sound of scratching, puffing, snorting in the chimney. The pirate captain, like Santa Claus, was coming down from the roof.
There was a slip and a rattle of stones, and with a thump he tumbled into the middle of the cave. It was not quite the entrance he had planned, and the first word of the chief was an “Ow!” of pain. For a minute he did not rise, but sat rubbing some injured spot upon his person. Then he reached for his sword, which he had lost in the fall, and sprang fiercely to his feet, a majestic figure (Charlie was a tall boy for ten years).
The pirate chief wore a great slouch hat pulled down over his mask, below which hung a beard of curly black wool. A yellow handkerchief was knotted about his throat. He wore a red sweater, with a skull and crossbones on the breast, fringed leggings, and his belt bristled with knives, daggers, and pistols, to say nothing of the huge tin sword which he brandished fiercely. He truly was a terrible figure. Little Jane trembled and clung close to Sue when he hissed through his teeth:—
“Well, my hearties, whom have we here? Bulldog Bill thirsts for vengeance and for gold!”