"Yes, indeed; for I am a stranger in this land," returned the prince.
"Well, I know a lot of people who are so poor that they have no possessions whatever, neither food to eat, houses to live in, nor any clothing but that which covers their bodies. They can call no man friend, nor will any lift a hand to help them. Indeed, good sir, I verily believe they will soon perish miserably unless you come to their assistance!"
"Poor creatures!" exclaimed Prince Marvel, with ready sympathy; "tell me who they are, and I will divide amongst them all your ill-gotten gains."
"They are ourselves," replied the king of thieves, with a sigh.
Marvel looked at him in amazement, and then burst into joyous laughter.
"Yourselves!" he cried, greatly amused.
"Indeed, yes!" said Wul-Takim, sadly. "There are no poorer people in all the world, for we have ropes about our necks and are soon to be hanged. To-morrow we shall not have even our flesh left, for the crows will pick our bones."
"That is true," remarked Marvel, thoughtfully. "But, if I restore to you the treasure, how will it benefit you, since you are about to die?"
"Must you really hang us?" asked the thief.
"Yes; I have decreed it, and you deserve your fate."