"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Toby in spite of himself. "Freddie, we've seen that little act before, haven't we?" Freddie nodded. He remembered very well the first time he had seen Mr. Hanlon's head cut off, at the Gaunt Street Theatre at home; he wondered that he had not thought of it before. Captain Lingo was plainly very angry. His face turned a purple hue, and the scar across his mouth showed very white. He fingered his knife dangerously, and at the same time glared at Ketch, who was scratching his head in bewilderment. The captain did not raise his voice, but he spoke with deadly earnestness. "A fine workman thou, friend Ketch," said he. "Truly a pretty hand with a cutlass, thou son of a sea-cook. I've a mind to let a little of thy blood with this knife, thou scurvy knave. But I will give thee one more chance. If thou fail again, by St. George thou shalt die the death. Once more, now! And remember!" It was Ketch's turn now to tremble. He knew very well that Captain Lingo would do as he had said, if he should fail a second time. His own life hung on a thread now. "Ay, ay, Captain," he said huskily, and led Mr. Hanlon back to the fallen log and made him kneel as before. As Mr. Hanlon's head lay across the log, he turned it round towards his friends, and gave them a long slow wink. Ketch's cutlass flashed as before. Round his head it swung twice, and down it came with a slashing stroke straight and true on the back of Mr. Hanlon's neck. Off rolled Mr. Hanlon's head upon the ground. Everyone watched breathlessly; and Ketch did not breathe at all. For a second Mr. Hanlon's body continued to kneel headless beside the log. Then the head on the ground popped like a flash to the neck it belonged to, and fastened itself accurately there in place. Ketch turned ghastly pale. Mr. Hanlon sprang up, opened his mouth wide in a soundless laugh, bowed to Captain Lingo, jumped lightly into the air, and clicked his heels together three times as he came down. Captain Lingo's face was a terrible sight to see. He gazed steadily at Ketch. The unfortunate Practitioner was shaking like a leaf. Captain Lingo slowly drew his knife, and held it behind him in his right hand. With the other hand he pointed to the ground before him. "Hither, dog," he said, in a quiet, even voice. Ketch hesitated, gave a wild look about him, and advanced slowly towards his captain. When he reached him, he fell on his knees and held up his shaking hands. "No! no! no! captain," he cried. "Don't do it! Oh, please don't do it! I done my duty always, and I ain't never failed before! Remember my poor old mother, captain! Give me one chance, captain, just one! Don't kill me! Captain! Captain!"