I am the only one left of a band formerly as complete as yours; the executioner has deprived me of my brave comrades one by one, and now I am obliged to carry on my operations entirely alone--dressing up my scarecrows, as your friend calls them, and assuming different voices to make believe that I am supported by a numerous company.

Ah! mine is a sad fate; and then my road is such a poor one--so few travellers come this way--and I have not the means to purchase a better one.

Every good road is owned by a band of brigands, you know.

I wish that I could get some honest work to do, but that is hopeless; who would employ such a looking fellow as I am?
all in rags and tatters, worse than the poorest beggar.

I must surely have been born under an unlucky star.