The man’s small gray eyes sparkled with delight, and he could hardly restrain himself, so great was his joy at this piece of news.
“What fortune!” cried he; “just what I wanted. Here, let us drink our fill—drink to the man who dies to-morrow.”
“Here it goes then!” and Hank raised the bottle to his lips. “That his journey in th’ world herearter may be a jolly one!”
“Ay, my worthy fellow.”
As the fire, at intervals, brightened up and filled the room with a red light, it cast the forms of the men in fantastic shadows upon the wall.
Theirs were strange pictures—faces that portrayed the evil side of human nature, and any one observing them while hate and joy beamed thereon, would have involuntarily retreated with a feeling of horror and disgust.
“How about the ghost, Hank, did you see it?” asked the chief, with a roguish twinkle in his eye.
“Ye devils, didn’t I though! Ha! ha! ha! ye played yer part well, chief,” and Putney’s sides shook with laughter.
“The fools,” said Iron Hand. “You can frighten them all to madness.”
“They reckon the cap’n’s a wizard, and ’ll bring ruin to ’em all.”