“What can these monsters mean or intend to do?” sighed the clerk, who much wished to get away if he could.
“Mean? intend?” repeated the horrible voice again. “Why, it means that we intend to celebrate Lady Julia’s marriage with our great chief, Death-wing, and will do honour to the event by hanging every mother’s son of you!”
Dismal groans were now heard on all sides.
Some began to gasp from fear.
Others fell to praying.
But the Skeleton Bell-ringers were as good as their word, as we shall see.
They stopped pealing the bells, and glared most hideously at their intended victims.
“So you came here with stout cudgels in your hands, did you, and intended to give us all a good sound thrashing, I dare say?”
“Not me.”
“Nor me.”