“Is that your fixed, unalterable determination?” demanded the lieutenant, assuming a fierce look.
“Ich verstehe nicht—I not understand,” stammered the captive.
“You won’t accept our flattering proposal, then?”
“I cannot indeed, my good friend,” said the German piteously. “I shall make one very poor robber.”
“Fancy him at the head of the band,” said Jack laughing.
The idea was ludicrous. The robbers laughed till the tears run down their cheeks, and the other three prisoners joined in.
The lieutenant recovered himself first. He frowned, and in a harsh voice said, in a mock, imperious tone:
“Remove him at once to the dungeon. He has spurned my offer. He despises our companionship. Let him prepare for a most terrible retribution.”
The affrighted Dutchman was borne back to the subterranean apartment, groaning piteously under the impression that he was to be killed on the morrow. But his fatigue was great, and in spite of his mental distress, half an hour had not passed before snoring of a particularly boisterous character apprised his fellow-prisoners that he was asleep. Happy are they who can so readily command the blissful oblivion of slumber.