Ned’s horse reared and danced about, and he sat looking on in mute astonishment, but with bold, firm-set features.
“It is alive! it is alive, master! Let us get away! it is—it must be the devil himself!”
“Hold thy peace,” said Ned, in a petulant whisper.
And, then aloud, he addressed the ghastly, hideous form.
“Be ye devil or mortal, speak!” said Ned, fiercely. “Who and what art thou?”
The Red Man raised his skeleton arm, and suddenly thrust it through the grating of his prison-house, as he pointed his long, lean fingers, and said,
“Edward Warbeck, I am thine enemy! Beware!”[1]
“Mine enemy?” said Ned, with a grim smile.
“Aye, the same you saw this very night. At certain times and seasons I walk the earth; beware, I say, of the Red Man of the Gibbet and the Skeleton Crew. I am thy fate! When we meet again thou wilt tremble at my presence. Until we meet again, adieu!”
The long arm descended again by his grim, bony sides.