“Make each his noose; mind they fit their necks nicely.”
“Oh, the cold-blooded rascals!”
“The merciless villains!”
“Mercy!”
“Have pity on us,” gasped the servants, as the Skeletons were making the noose in each rope.
“If they speak again despatch them with your daggers,” said the chief.
“Hanging is better than that,” sighed Roger, “so I’ll keep quiet. I hope my turn will come last, though,” he piously prayed.
“Give the rascals five minutes to say their prayers,” said the chief, with a gruff laugh.
“It won’t do them any good, great chief,” said one of the Skeletons; “they are sure to go to the devil.”
“Yes, oh, yes,” gasped Roger, “five minutes—say ten, only make it ten, or a quarter of an hour, and it will do us a world of—h-o-o! ha! ho-oh!”