“Nay; you need have no fears for me. It is my resolve to beard the lion in his very den this very night. Think you they are on the heath?” “Without doubt, young master, they are; but take an old man’s advice, do not go near them. When you catch but a glimpse of their horrid forms, flee for your lives.” “Never mind, friend, never mind this Skeleton Crew. Bring us a bottle or two of your best wine,” said Ned. “If I do not unearth the hobgoblin devils to-night, my name is not Ned Warbeck.” “Warbeck?” said the old man, in surprise, “Warbeck?” “Yes, Warbeck. What makes you look so surprised?” “They were speaking of you,” said the old man, turning pale. “Well, what of that?” “They drank to your death.” “To my death?” said Ned. “What else, old man?” * * * * * NOTICE TO OUR READERS. REMEMBER!—A most valuable present is in preparation, and will be presented to all our regular Subscribers with an early Number. Full particulars will be announced in No. 6. [Illustration: THE ENCOUNTER BETWEEN WILDFIRE NED AND THE SKELETON CREW.—SEE PAGE 40.] “They vowed to hunt you down and slay you.” “Ah!” said Ned, “and why? What have I done more than any one else to deserve such kind consideration?” “I know not, young man. All I heard them say was, that, at the moment of your birth, some infernal power told them that you were sent to be their deadliest enemy on land and sea.” “So be it, then,” said Ned. “If I have any strength or power or will, I will use it all against these demons, and never rest until I have exterminated every one of them.” While Ned spoke thus, the old landlord, who was about to leave the room, hastily returned. “What makes you so pale, old man?” asked Ned. The publican did not reply. He seemed struck dumb with astonishment. At the door stood two of the Skeleton Crew. They walked slowly into the room, and looked at Wildfire Ned with a long, steadfast gaze. Ned jumped to his feet, and, quick as thought, fired both pistols at them. The balls could be heard rattling through their bones. But they stirred not. With a laugh, loud and mocking, they seized Tim by his arms, and would have borne him away. Tim, almost in a jelly with fear, wriggled and writhed like an eel. The skeletons swung Tim to and fro for a second or two, and then threw him with great violence into a corner near the coal cellar, and there he lay very humbly and meekly, and did not dare stir an inch. “Are such the men, young Warbeck,” said the two skeletons, “you would gather round ye to slaughter the Death-wing’s band?” “No, foul fiends,” said Ned, rising and brandishing his sword, “such are not the men; but here are two. I and young Bertram here defy all your power.” “Foolish boy!” said one, in tones of mock compassion. “I would not harm ye. Yet, when you have arrived at man’s estate, I might meet you on equal terms.”