“When we leave you next time your tongue will be silenced forever,” declared the executioner solemnly. “With this good blade I shall sever your head from your body.”
He flourished the ax as he spoke, swinging it with a sidelong movement until the edge touched the captive’s neck.
“Boo! that’s pleasant!” shivered Tucker. “So you’re going to decapitate me, are you?”
“No,” chuckled the clown, “we’re only going to cut your head off.”
“But first,” said the Turk, “we must examine your feet. We have a peculiar notion that you are the unfortunate possessor of extremely cold feet.”
“Even so,” nodded Satan. “Remove his shoes and stockings.”
“Why don’t you take a hand, Sate,” piped the clown.
“Yes, get busy,” said the bear. “I’m holding the light. That’s my job.”
Tommy’s ankles had been bound to the legs of a chair, but now they were set free, and a few moments later his shoes and stockings were stripped from his feet.
“Indeed his tootsies are very, very cold,” said the owl. “Start up the fire in your little furnace, Sate.”