Tired of waiting, the Assassins called to him mockingly:
"Good-by till tomorrow. When we return in the morning,
we hope you'll be polite enough to let us find you
dead and gone and with your mouth wide open."
With these words they went.
A few minutes went by and then a wild wind started
to blow. As it shrieked and moaned, the poor little
sufferer was blown to and fro like the hammer of a bell.
The rocking made him seasick and the noose, becoming
tighter and tighter, choked him. Little by little a film
covered his eyes.
Death was creeping nearer and nearer, and the Marionette
still hoped for some good soul to come to his rescue,
but no one appeared. As he was about to die, he thought
of his poor old father, and hardly conscious of what he
was saying, murmured to himself:
"Oh, Father, dear Father! If you were only here!"
These were his last words. He closed his eyes, opened
his mouth, stretched out his legs, and hung there, as if
he were dead.
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