"What poor?"
"Oh, the poorest people I can find."
"Will you permit me to advise you in this matter?" asked the king of
thieves, politely.
"Yes, indeed; for I am a stranger in this land," returned the prince.
"Well, I know a lot of people who are so poor that they have no
possessions whatever, neither food to eat, houses to live in, nor any
clothing but that which covers their bodies. They can call no man
friend, nor will any lift a hand to help them. Indeed, good sir, I
verily believe they will soon perish miserably unless you come to
their assistance!"
"Poor creatures!" exclaimed Prince Marvel, with ready sympathy;
"tell me who they are, and I will divide amongst them all your
ill-gotten gains."
"They are ourselves," replied the king of thieves, with a sigh.
Marvel looked at him in amazement, and then burst into joyous laughter.
"Yourselves!" he cried, greatly amused.
"Indeed, yes!" said Wul-Takim, sadly. "There are no poorer people in
all the world, for we have ropes about our necks and are soon to be
hanged. To-morrow we shall not have even our flesh left, for the
crows will pick our bones."
"That is true," remarked Marvel, thoughtfully.
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