“Dead?” “Murdered?” said several in surprise.
“When did this foul deed take place?” asked the old knight.
“‘Murdered last night,’ said the Red Man from the gibbet, ‘as the Darlington village clock tolled the hour of one! Ha! ha! the Skeleton Crew still lives, and rules the seas, and will long defy the power of man. Fly from this spot, or become one of the dead!’”
“This is a most horrible revelation,” said the old knight.
“I did not stop to hear more, for I shouted with fright, and galloped madly away, feeling as if frozen to the very marrow, for I had spoken with the dead!”
Tiny Tim looked exhausted, and shivered in every limb.
He could not proceed with his story very quickly, for his teeth chattered again.
“Give the lad a stiff glass of brandy, Ned,” said the kind-hearted knight.
Ned did so; a very “stiff” one indeed, it was, which made the groom’s eyes twinkle again.
The one-legged sailor was treated in like manner, when Tim continued—