Peterkin shook his head. “There are two difficulties in your plan, Jack. First, what if the natives are not assembled on the place of execution, and we find it impossible to make our entrance into or exit from the village quietly?”
“I propose,” replied Jack, “that we shall undress ourselves, rub ourselves entirely over with charcoal and grease, so that they shall not recognise us, and dash in and carry the girl off by a coup de main. In which case it will, of course, be neck or nothing, and a tremendous race to the cave, where, if they follow us, we will keep them at bay with our rifles.”
“Umph! dashing, no doubt, but risky,” said Peterkin—“extremely risky. Yet it’s worth trying. Well, my second difficulty is—what if they don’t stick to their promise after we quit, and kill the poor thing before midnight?”
“We must take our chance of that. But I shall put the king on his honour before leaving, and say that I will make particular inquiry into the way in which the trial has been conducted on my return.”
“Put the king on his honour!” observed Peterkin. “I’m afraid that you’ll put his majesty on an extremely unstable foundation. However, I see nothing better that can be done.”
“Have you any more difficulties?”
“Yes,” said I. “There is one other. What do you propose to do with the men who are to be supplied us by the king during these extremely delicate and difficult manoeuvres?”
The countenances of my comrades fell at this question.
“I never thought of them,” said Jack.
“Nor I,” said Peterkin.