'A spy,' exclaimed the captors, as they dragged Alroy before the leader
of the band.
'Hang him, then,' said the chieftain, without even looking up.
'This wine, great Scherirah, is excellent, or I am no true Moslem,'
said a principal robber; 'but you are too cruel; I hate this summary
punishment. Let us torture him a little, and extract some useful
information.'
'As you like, Kisloch,' said Scherirah; 'it may amuse us. Fellow, where
do you come from? He cannot answer. Decidedly a spy. Hang him up.'
The captors half untied the rope that bound Alroy, that it might serve
him for a further purpose, when another of the gentle companions of
Scherirah interfered.
'Spies always answer, captain. He is more probably a merchant in
disguise.'
'And carries hidden treasure,' added Kisloch; 'these rough coats often
cover jewels. We had better search him.'
'Ah! search him,' said Scherirah, with his rough brutal voice; 'do what
you like, only give me the bottle. This Greek wine is choice booty. Feed
the fire, men. Are you asleep? And then Kisloch, who hates cruelty, can
roast him if he likes.'
The robbers prepared to strip their captive. 'Friends, friends!'
exclaimed Alroy, 'for there is no reason why you should not be friends,
spare me, spare me.
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