A knife glittered before the footman’s eyes ere he had finished his sentence, and he sank upon his knees very humbly and meekly. If any lot of poor wretches ever prayed fervently they did so on this occasion. Roger, who seldom had said a prayer in all his life before, fired away very rapidly. Each one was endeavouring to pray more than the other, and the most wicked among them were loudest. “Be quick,” said the chief, sternly, “be quick with your praying; the hanging must commence at once. We will begin with the men.” Many of the servants called down more hearty curses on the Skeleton Band than they did blessings on their own heads during their prayers; but it was useless to offer resistance, for each was in the power of a grim, gaunt enemy. “Rise!” said the Skeleton Chief. All the servants did so, except Roger. “Rise,” said the Skeleton. “Don’t you know we are in a hurry?” “I haven’t finished my prayers yet,” piously gasped the suddenly converted footman. “How long does it take you?” asked one of the Skeletons, chuckling. “All night sometimes,” said Roger, with a sigh. “Oh, then, you are pious?” “Yes, I always was.” “Then as you are so much, the better prepared than the rest, we’ll hang you first.” Roger groaned and rose up like a shot. “You have heard of the Skeleton Crew, I know,” said the chief aloud, “and that they neither fear man nor devil?” “We have,” said several; “quite true.” “I wish the devil had _him_, though,” groaned poor Tim. “And,” continued he, “you have heard that the chief is cruel, and has no mercy to his enemies.” “I wish I only had the luck to be one of his best friends at this particular moment,” sighed Roger, trembling. “But you see,” said the chief, “I am _not_ cruel, or I would have hanged you all without giving a moment’s warning.” “Cursed perlite!” said Tim, under his breath. “And, to show you that I am not as bad as people say I am, I’ll give you all a chance as to who dies first, provided——” “What?” gasped several, eagerly. “You will answer me one question.” “What is it, oh, most mighty and merciful skeleton?” sighed Roger. “What is it?” “Who considers himself to be the greatest rogue among you all?” asked the chief. “Be careful how you answer.” A long, solemn and awful pause followed this ominous and all-important question. The grim chief need not have warned them to be careful. They were _very_ careful indeed, and took a long, long time to consider. “It won’t do for _me_ to answer,” thought the trembling servants, “for they will be sure to commence hanging the biggest rogues first.” “So there is no rogue at all among you, I find, eh? Ha! ha! Well, then, who thinks himself the most pious among you? Tell me that.” Roger was about to reply, but the words stuck fast in his throat, as he thought, “If _I_ answer, they will do for me first as the best prepared to die; no, no, he don’t entrap _me_ with his puzzling questions.” So thought the rest.