One of the villains now approached him with a folded handkerchief, remarking jocosely, with a tantalizing grin:
“Neat little trap, wasn’t it? Now, if you please, we will cover up those peepers of yours, as you might be adding to your stock of information while we make our journey to the palace; and that would not suit the king you know.”
The villain laughed a coarse laugh, in which he was heartily joined by his companions.
“For what am I molested?” demanded Mr. Ellerton, with calm disdain, while he suffered himself to be blindfolded.
“The king wants you,” was the reply.
“What king?”
“Why, our king. He has got no particular province as I know of. I may as well call him the King of the Cannibal Islands as anything else,” replied the ruffian, winking at his comrades.
Again their rude laughter rang over the echoing hills.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Mr. Ellerton, not deigning to notice the wretched attempt at witticism.
“To the palace, as I informed you before; and to safe quarters I’ll warrant you. Come, tramp, for we are in a hurry,” and the poor man was seized by both arms and hurried roughly over the uneven path.