“Oh!” cried Esau, “I wish my hands were untied.”
“And serve him the same,” said the man who had made the proposal. “It’ll be a race between ’em who shall speak first.”
“There, it’s all right. Ears off last. But they’re going to speak; arn’t you, boys?”
We both remained silent.
“Oh, very well,” said the big fellow; “off with their boots then.”
“Don’t you say a word, Esau,” I whispered; “it’s only to frighten us.”
“No, it arn’t,” said the big ruffian, fiercely, for he must have guessed what I said. “It arn’t done to frighten you. Off with ’em, lads, and hold their feet close. That’ll make ’em speak—or squeak,” he added, with a grin.
“It will not, you cowardly brute,” I cried, desperately, “for we neither of us know.”
“And him as does can’t speak,” cried Esau, fiercely. “Call yourselves men to tie us two lads up, and do this? Yah! you’re afraid.”
“Where’s he hid his pile, then?” growled the big ruffian.