“Undo the rope,” said the chief constable, “at least, loosen it a bit; we don’t want to hang him yet.” “No; that fun has to come,” said another, with a loud laugh. “Bring him along, lads; I’ll lead the way with the light!” said the chief constable. And poor Jonas was dragged forth to prison with a long halter around his neck. He was dripping wet, and soaked to the marrow. His thighs were bruised and wounded by cuffs, the fork-prongs, and dog-bites. His legs trembled from under him. Dogs barked at him, men jeered, and women clapped their hands. He was cast into gaol by the chief constable with looks of professional pride and triumph. “Got one of the scoundrels, any how!” said he. Wet and exhausted as he was, and presenting a very sorry sight, Master Jonas was thrust into a cell. The villagers crowded around him and gazed through the prison bars, with gaping mouths, as if they were looking at some strange, half-tamed animal in a travelling menagerie. But what has become of his master, Colonel Blood? The next chapter will show. CHAPTER XI. THE ABDUCTION—THE SKELETON DANCE—THE PURSUIT—HORRIBLE DOINGS IN THE VILLAGE. The sounds which Colonel Blood had heard for a moment aroused his bold spirit, and as he crossed the mill bridge, slowly and calmly, he resolved upon arriving at some explanation concerning it. But the very hubbub and confusion which reigned were of infinite use to him in regard to his projected scheme with the pretty Ellen Harmer. Her father, the miller, and the whole of the villagers, as we have seen, were thoroughly aroused and greatly incensed at the behaviour of Jonas. Some began to talk of hanging the unlucky servant on the morrow, and, dark as it was, they gathered together in groups, discussing the subject with great animation and many angry gestures. But this very confusion assisted the bold, conscienceless colonel. He walked up to the miller’s house, and found it deserted. Not a soul was in the dwelling, save Ellen herself. Half stupefied with the strange stories she had heard, Ellen remained in her own chamber, trembling that the Skeleton Crew were in the village. A single lamp burned dimly in the miller’s parlour. Colonel Blood, as he crept towards the house, felt satisfied that she was alone. “Now is my time,” said he; “none but the brave deserve the fair; now or never.” He walked boldly into the house, opened the parlour door hastily, and entered the apartment. Ellen had been on her knees praying, and her face was deadly pale. She started suddenly as she saw the handsome stranger enter. “Fly! fly for your life, fair maid,” said Blood, in accents of alarm. “What means this intrusion, sir?” said Ellen, drawing herself up to her full height, and with a proud look. “What means this strange intrusion?”