“No, I don’t; stop a bit,” said the footman. “D—n it! I’ll have a few more rounds; anything’s better than being scragged like a cat.”
At it they went again hammer and tongs, pounding each other, and puffing at a great rate.
But while this was going on several other “brave” individuals were engaged, with swords, proving their valour, one against the other.
The doors were all locked, the windows were closed, and the servants’ hall being so far away from the knight’s apartments the noise was not heard.
Curses, not loud but deep, were heard on every side, and the Skeleton Crew looked on with delight, as they saw the blood flowing an all sides, while their chief sat on a high seat, quaffing wine, and delighted with the bloodthirsty, fiendish work going on around him.
It was a terrible feast of blood!
The Skeleton Band hideously grinned and chuckled at the sight of blood around them.
Shouts of pain and death groans were like music in their demon ears; the writhings of several victims, as they hung from the beams above, thrilled them with joy, as, with bony hands, they pointed to them twisting and dangling in the air.
This horrible carnival had lasted long.
The best looking of the females were then carried off by several of the Skeleton Band to some rendezvous near by, with limbs bound and their mouths gagged; but those left behind were hung to the rafters quickly, and without mercy.