It was Bob, rubbing his eyes.
Frank, however, paid him no attention.
“Look, look,” he said, seizing Mr. Hampton’s arm. “He saw Don Ernesto scalp himself and he’s scared stiff.”
“I believe you’re right, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton, delightedly.
They hurried to the recumbent form. The jailer lay on his face, his hands up to his eyes, as if shutting out an horrific sight. He was moaning like a man in the extremity of terror.
“Let’s try the teeth and the false eye on him, too,” said Frank, carried away with enthusiasm at the unexpected proof of the plausibility of his suggestion.
“No, no,” protested Mr. Hampton. “The man is beside himself with terror now.”
Bending down, he began to pat the fellow on the back, and endeavor to induce him to raise his head. Don Ernesto, meanwhile, restored his toupee. Presently, although Mr. Hampton knew no words in the other’s tongue, he had brought him back to some semblance of sanity. The jailer still trembling violently, was induced to get to his feet, but his hands were still to his eyes, as if he feared to gaze upon a terrible sight.
The room grew lighter. A glance toward the loopholes revealed the sky was becoming bright in the east.
“Look,” said Jack, “it is dawn.”