The domestics were now sitting in a circle, face to face.
“The rope,” said the Skeleton Chief, hoarsely.
In an instant each of his crew produced a long stout rope, about two inches round, and flourished it before the eyes of their captain with a savage grin.
“I thought so,” groaned Roger. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“All U.P. now,” Tim groaned.
“They wouldn’t believe me,” said the footman.
“Good-bye everybody,” said Tim.
Roger and Tim had another sound thwack on the jaws from their skeleton guardians, which shook every tooth in their heads.
“Sling your ropes,” said the grim Skeleton Chief, quaffing more wine.
In a moment each threw one end of his rope up in the air over the numerous beams and rafters of the servants’ hall.