“Hoo? hoo?” hooted the owl.
“Take hold, you imps,” commanded Satan. “Set him upright.”
The chair was lifted and planted on its legs.
“Poor fellow!” said Satan, with mock sympathy. “See how frightened he is! Why, Turk, you could hang your turban on his eyeballs.”
The executioner leaned on the handle of his ax.
“Some one remove the gag,” directed the wearer of the crimson.
“Hoo? hoo?” cried the owl.
“You! you!” commanded Satan, pointing.
The huge bird complied, and Tommy, with great relief, filled his lungs as the cloth was stripped away.
“Much obliged,” he said, his voice just a bit unsteady. “If you go away again, please don’t close my trap. The rats are a little too thick for comfort around here, and I couldn’t even cuss at them.”