Burt L. Standish
Dick Merriwell's Pranks; Or, Lively Times in the Orient

CHAPTER I – IN THE BOSPORUS

The steamer had crossed the Sea of Marmora and entered the Bosporus. It was approaching Constantinople. On the right lay Asia, on the left Europe. Either shore was lined with beautiful mosques and palaces, the fairylike towers and minarets gleaming in the sunshine.

The deck was crowded with people eagerly gazing on the bewitching scene. From that point of view it was a land of enchantment, strange, mysterious, fascinating. Shipping from all quarters of the globe lay in the splendid harbor.

Among the crowd on deck were two boys who were making a European tour in charge of Professor Zenas Gunn, of the Fardale Military Academy, from which one of the students had been unjustly expelled. This was Dick Merriwell, the younger brother of the former great Yale athlete and scholar, Frank Merriwell.

With Dick was his chum and former roommate at Fardale, Bradley Buckhart, of Texas.

“What do you think of it, Brad?” asked Dick, placing a hand on the shoulder of his comrade, who was leaning on the rail and staring at the bewildering panorama.

Buckhart drew a deep breath.

“Pard,” he answered, “she beats my dreams a whole lot. I certain didn’t allow that the country of the ‘unspeakable Turk’ could be half as beautiful.”

“Wait until we get on shore before you form an opinion,” laughed Dick. “It certainly is beautiful from here, but I have reasons to believe that things will not seem so beautiful on closer inspection.”

“Then I opine I don’t care to land!” exclaimed Brad. “I’d like to remember her just as she looks now.”

“Hum! ha!” broke in another voice. “I don’t blame you, my boy. Isn’t she beautiful! Isn’t she wonderful! Isn’t she ravishing!”

“All of that, professor,” agreed the Texan.

Professor Gunn, who had joined them, readjusted his spectacles and thrust his hand into the bosom of his coat.

“I have admired her for a long time,” he declared. “In fact, ever since my eyes first beheld her intellectual and classic countenance. Her hair is a golden halo.”

“Eh?” grunted Buckhart, in surprise.

“Hair?” exclaimed Dick, puzzled.

“Her eyes are like limpid lakes,” continued Zenas.

“Eyes?” gasped both boys.

“Her mouth is a well of wisdom.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Dick.

“Her teeth,” went on the professor – “her teeth are pearls beyond price.”

“Is he daffy?” muttered the Texan.

“And her form has all the grace of a gazelle. She is a dream of enchantment. Every movement is a poem. I could worship her! I could spend my life at the feet of such a woman listening to the musical murmur of her heavenly voice.”

“Look here, professor,” said Dick, “what is the matter with you?”

“I’m enthralled, enchanted, enraptured by that woman.”

“What woman?”

“Why, the one we are talking about, Sarah Ann Ketchum, president of the Foreign Humanitarian Society, of Boston, Massachusetts. Who else could I be talking about?”

“Oh, murder!” exploded Brad. “Wouldn’t that freeze you some!”

Both boys laughed heartily, much to the displeasure of the professor.

“Such uncalled-for mirth is unseemly,” he declared. “I don’t like it. It offends me very much. Besides, she may see you laughing, and that would harrow her sensitive soul.”

“Professor, I didn’t think it of you!” said Dick, trying to check his merriment. “You are smashed on the lady from Boston – and you’re married. Have you forgotten that?”

“Alas, no! I can never forget it! But do not use such vulgar and offensive language. ‘Smashed!’ Shocking! You do not understand me. She is my ideal, my affinity, the soul of my soul! Yet I must worship her from afar; for, as you say, I am a married man. I have talked with her; I have heard the music of her voice; I have listened to the pearls of wisdom which dropped from her sweet lips. But I haven’t told her I am married. It wasn’t necessary. Even if I were to know her better, even if I were to become her friend, being a man of honor, that friendship would be purely platonic.”

“Rats!” said Brad. “You’re sure in a bad way, professor. Why, that old lady with the hatchet face would scare a dog into a fit.”

“Bradley!” exclaimed Zenas indignantly. “How dare you speak of Miss Ketchum in such a manner! She is a lofty-minded, angelic girl.”

“Girl!” gasped Dick. “Oh, professor! Girl! Oh, ha, ha, ha! She’s sixty if she’s a minute!”

“Sixty-five!” asserted Brad, slapping his thigh and joining in the merriment.

“Stop it!” spluttered the old pedagogue. “She’s looking this way now! She’ll see you laughing. She’s had trouble enough with that little, dried-up, old duffer from Mississippi, who has followed her about like a puppy dog.”

“You mean Major Mowbry Fitts?” said Dick.

“Fitts – that’s the man. They’re all majors or colonels down in Mississippi. He’s no more a major than I am a general.”

“But he’s a fire eater,” declared Dick. “He is a very dangerous man, professor, and you want to be careful. He’s fearfully jealous of Miss Ketchum, too. Followed her all the way from the United States, they say. I’ve seen him glaring at you in a manner that has caused my blood to run cold.”

“Let him glare! Who’s afraid of that withered runt! Why, I could take him over my knee and spank him. I’d enjoy doing it, too! What is he thinking of? How can he fancy such a superbly beautiful woman as Miss Ketchum could fancy him, even for a moment! Besides, he is a drinking man, and Miss Ketchum is a prohibitionist. She told me so herself.”

“Be careful that she doesn’t smell your breath after you take your medicine, professor,” advised Dick. “But I suppose there is no danger of that now, for the voyage is practically ended.”

“Yes,” sighed Zenas. “We soon must part, but I shall always carry her image in my heart.”

“This certain is the worst case I’ve struck in a long while,” said Brad.

“She comes!” breathed Zenas, in sudden excitement. “She comes this way! Behave yourselves, boys! Be young gentlemen. Don’t cause me to blush for your manners.”

Miss Sarah Ann Ketchum, tall, angular, and painfully plain, came stalking along the deck, peering through her gold-rimmed spectacles, which were perched on the extreme elevation of her camel-back nose.

“Steady, Brad!” warned Dick. “Keep your face straight.”

Miss Ketchum had her eye on the professor; he had his eye on her. She smiled and bowed; he doffed his hat and scraped. Like a prancing colt he advanced to meet her.

“Does not this panoramic spectacle of the Orient arouse within your innermost depths unspeakable emotions, both ecstatic and execrable, Professor Gunn?” asked the lady from Boston. “As you gaze on these shores can you not feel your quivering inner self writhing with the shocking realization of the innumerable excruciating horrors which have stained the shuddering years during which the power of the Turk has been supreme in this sanguine land? Do you not hear within the citadel of your soul a clarion call to duty?

“Are you not oppressed by an intense and all-controlling yearning to do something for the poor, downtrodden Armenians who have been mercilessly ground beneath the iron heel of these heartless hordes of the sultan? I know you do! I have seen it in your countenance, molded by noble and lofty thoughts and towering and exalted ambitions, which lift you to sublime heights far above the swarming multitudes of common earthy clay. Have I not stated your attitude on this stupendous subject to the infinitesimal fraction of a mathematical certainty, professor?”

“Indeed you have, Miss Ketchum!” exclaimed Zenas.

“Oh, wow!” gasped Buckhart, leaning weakly on the rail. “Did you hear that flow of hot air, Dick?”

“I did,” said Dick, concealing a smile behind his hand. “That sort of Bostonese has carried the old boy off his feet. Brad, the professor has lost his head over the lady from Boston, and it is up to you and me to rescue him from the peril that threatens him. He is in danger, and we must not falter.”

The steamer was swinging in to her mooring, but Professor Gunn was now too absorbed in Miss Ketchum and her talk to tell the boys anything about the two cities, that of the “Infidel” and that of the “Faithful,” which lay before them.

A man with a decidedly Oriental cast of countenance, but who wore English-made clothes, paused near the professor and Miss Ketchum, seemingly watching the boats which were swarming off to the steamer.

“Look, pard,” whispered Buckhart. “There’s the inquisitive gent who has bothered us so much – the one we found in our stateroom one day. He’s listening now to the professor and the Boston woman. I’ll bet my life on it.”

“I see him,” said Dick, yet without turning his head. “Brad, the man is spying on us.”

“I certain reckon so, and I’m a whole lot sorry we let him off without thumping him up when we found him in our stateroom.”

“He protested that he got in there by accident.”

“And lied like the Turk that he is!” muttered the Texan. “I’d give a whole bunch of steers to know what his name is.”

“He’s up to something. I found his name on the list of passengers.”

“What is it?”

“Aziz Achmet.”

“I knew he was an onery full-blooded Turk. His cognomen proves it.”

“He’s a subject of the sultan, beyond question. Something tells me we are going to have trouble with that man.”

“Well, he wants to lay his trail clear of mine,” growled Buckhart. “I’m getting a heap impatient with him, and I’ll be liable to do him damage if he provokes me further by his sneaking style.”

A little man with a very fierce, gray mustache and imperial came dodging hither and thither amid the passengers, caught sight of Miss Ketchum, hastened forward, doffed his military hat, and made a sweeping bow.

“Madam,” he said, “it will affo’d me great pleasure to see yo’ safely on shore.”

“My dear Major Fitts,” said Sarah Ann, “I am truly grateful for your gallant thoughtfulness. Professor, permit me to introduce you to Major Mowbry Fitts, of Natchez, Mississippi. Major, this is Professor Zenas Gunn, principal of Fardale Military Academy, a very famous school.”

“Haw!” said Professor Gunn, bowing stiffly.

“Ha!” said Major Fitts, in his most icy manner.

Then they glared at each other.

“Your solicitude for Miss Ketchum was quite needless, sir,” declared Zenas. “I am quite capable of looking out for her.”

“Suh, yo’ may relieve yo’self of any trouble, suh,” retorted the man from Natchez.

“I couldn’t think of it, sir, not for a moment, sir,” shot back the professor. “It might be trouble for you, sir, but it is a pleasure for me.”

“The old boy is there with the goods,” chuckled Brad.

But Major Fitts was not to be rebuffed in such a manner.

“Considering your age and your physical infirmities, suh,” he said, “I think Miss Ketchum will excuse yo’.”

That was too much for Zenas.

“My age, sir!” he rasped, lifting his cane. “Why, you antiquated old fossil, I’m ten years younger than you! My infirmities, sir! You rheumatic, malaria-sapped back number, I’m the picture of robust, bounding health beside you!”

“Gentlemen!” gasped Sarah Ann, in astonishment and dismay.

“Don’t yo’ dare threaten me with your cane, suh!” fumed the major. “If yo’ do, suh, I’ll take it away from yo’ and throw it overbo’d, and yo’ need it to suppo’t your tottering footsteps, suh.”

“I dare you to touch it, sir!” challenged the irascible old pedagogue, shaking the stick at the major’s nose.

Fitts made a grab, caught the cane, snatched it away, and sent it spinning overboard.

A moment later Zenas grappled with the man from Natchez, doing it so suddenly that the major was taken off his guard and sent flat upon his back on the deck, his assailant coming down heavily upon him.

Miss Ketchum screamed and fled.

In a moment Dick had the professor by the collar on one side while Brad grasped him by the collar on the other side. They dragged him off and stood him on his feet, although he vigorously objected and tried to maintain his hold on the other man.

“Here, here, professor!” exclaimed Merriwell; “you are disgracing yourself by your behavior.”

“He threw my cane overboard, the insolent, old, pug-faced sinner!” raged Zenas. “I’ll take its value out of his hide!”

The other passengers in the vicinity were looking on in mingled wonder and enjoyment, many of them being aware of the cause of the encounter between the two old chaps.

“See the kind of a scrape your foolish infatuation for the woman from Boston has led you into,” said Dick, in the ear of the professor. “Brace up! The passengers are laughing at you.”

Brad had assisted Major Fitts to rise. The little man was pale, and his eyes glared. He stood on his toes before Zenas, at whom he shook his fist, panting:

“Suh, this is not the end of this affair, suh! Give me your address in Constantinople, suh, that I may have a friend wait on yo’. This outrage shall be avenged in blood, suh!”

Dick was between them. He turned to the major.

“You have both made yourselves ridiculous,” he said. “It shall go no further. If you are not ashamed, I am ashamed for you.”

“I demand satisfaction!” palpitated Fitts. “I am from Mississippi, and no man can give me an insult and escape without meeting me in a duel.”

“The gentleman is quite right,” said the soft voice of Aziz Achmet, as the Turk stepped forward. “Under the circumstances the affair must be settled in a manner that will satisfy his wounded honor. If he needs a friend, I shall take pleasure in representing him.”

“Thank yo’, suh,” said the major. “I accept your generous offer, suh, and appreciate it.”

“Wants a duel, does he?” cried Zenas. “Well, he can’t frighten me that way! I’ll go him!”

“And I shall take great pleasure, suh, in shooting yo’ through the heart,” declared Fitts. “Yo’ will make the eleventh to my credit, suh.”

The mooring being completed, a great gang of men swarmed on board and took the steamer by storm. They were a struggling, snarling, shouting pack of Greeks, Armenians, Turks, Jews, and Italians, who literally fell on the bewildered passengers, as if seeking to rend them limb from limb. They raged, and shouted, and pushed, and in this confusion Dick and Brad managed to hustle the professor away, Fitts and Aziz Achmet being lost in the throng.

“Come now,” said Dick, “let’s get on shore in a hurry and see if we can’t keep clear of Major Mowbry Fitts, unless you are anxious to get yourself carved up or shot full of lead. He means business, and he really wants to fight you in a duel. You were in a nasty scrape, professor.”

“But my honor – ” began Zenas.

“Was satisfied when you floored him handsomely before all the passengers. Let it go at that.”

They found their baggage, and then Dick selected, amid the howling mass of human sharks, a fellow with a dirty red fez and a huge hooked nose.

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

“I spik all languages, Italian, Grek, Tergish, Yarman – ”

“That will do,” said the boy. “Here is our luggage. Look after it and get us into a boat.”

In some marvelous manner it was accomplished. They descended a ladder into a swaying boat, and their luggage followed them like magic. Then came the dragoman Merriwell had selected, and soon they were on their way to the shore.

“Thank fortune!” laughed Dick. “I hope we have seen the last of Aziz Achmet, Major Fitts, and Miss Sarah Ann Ketchum.”

CHAPTER II – IN PERSIA

When they reached the pier they found themselves confronted by several Turkish officers, who immediately began questioning them. Their passports were scrutinized doubtfully; and it began to appear that there would be a long delay, during which all their luggage would be overhauled and examined piece by piece.

Then Mustapha, the dragoman, whispered a word in Dick’s ear, and directly the boy slipped some money into the hand of one of the officers, whose manner toward them underwent a most surprising change, for he politely assured them that their baggage would not be opened and that there need not be the slightest delay. They were at liberty to leave the custom house at once and take their belongings with them.

Barely had they passed from the custom house when they suddenly found themselves surrounded, as it seemed, by people from all the tribes of the earth. This throng was made up of street venders who were peddling all sorts of goods, sugared figs, sandals, grapes, bread, clothes, and all of them shouting in a babel of tongues that was deafening and bewildering.

“Whoop!” cried Brad. “Talk about an Indian pow-wow! This beats it a mile! You hear me gurgle!”

When these peddlers would have charged on the Americans Mustapha warned them off and held them at bay, shooting violent remarks at them in a dozen different languages. With his aid they succeeded in passing through the thick of the throng without suffering physical violence.

“Well, I certain thought I was due to lose my scalp that go!” laughed the Texan. “Pard, you sure did a right good thing when you engaged this gent to pilot us. He knows his biz a plenty.”

“Richard,” said the professor, “I must compliment you on your acumen and discernment. It has aroused within my innermost depths unspeakable emotions of profound admiration which I am incompetent to adequately express – ”

“Hold on, professor!” cried Dick. “Leave that kind of gas to the lady from Boston, and talk in your usual sensible manner. Up to the present occasion you have been running things, but your encounter with Major Fitts left you in such a condition that I saw something had to be done, and so I tried my hand.”

“With flattering success, my boy – with flattering success. Why, young as you are, I believe you could get along anywhere – in any country or clime.”

“Thanks, professor. We’ll let it go at that.”

“What is that chap with the can and wooden mugs selling?” questioned Brad.

“That is a water seller,” exclaimed Zenas.

“Water? Wow! Is water so dear on this range that they can peddle it?”

“Water is the beverage of the Turk. He never touches intoxicants. Unspeakable he may be, but he has that virtue.”

“That may be true,” said Dick; “but he doesn’t keep his streets clean.”

In truth they had emerged into a labyrinth of dark, narrow, and filthy streets, all the charm of the place having disappeared as soon as they were fairly on land. The mosques and towers had vanished, and their surroundings were decidedly repellent. Everywhere was mud, and garbage, and dogs. Of the latter there seemed to be hundreds upon hundreds of every breed and description.

“They are the street cleaners,” explained the professor. “Here no one harms a dog, for if it were not for them the city would become too filthy for human beings to inhabit.”

“Well, I certain am not as much stuck on Constantinople as I was,” growled Brad.

“I must remind you,” said Zenas, “that there is really no such place as Constantinople. The European quarters of the city is called Pera, while the Moslem quarter is Stamboul.”

“Perhaps Brad isn’t stuck on it,” said Dick; “but I am. If this mud gets worse I shall be stuck on it to such an extent that I can’t perambulate. Look here, Mustapha, have we got to foot it all the way to our hotel?”

“No, effendi; we tak’ tram car, we tak’ horse – you choose.”

Even as he spoke they came to a street corner where several saddled horses were waiting, after the manner of cabs in an American city.

“Me to the broncho!” cried Brad.

“There is the tram car,” said Dick, with a motion.

The car was seen a short distance away, and the professor favored choosing that method of conveyance. Mustapha, however, for all that he had invited them make their choice, argued against it, explaining that half the car was reserved for ladies and that the other half was always crowded to suffocation.

Therefore they decided on the horses. Soon they were mounted and on their way up the long hill to Pera.

Although much of its beauty had vanished, the strange sights and sounds of the city keenly interested the American lads. They beheld people of many nationalities, yellow-coated Jews, with corkscrew curls, Bohemians, Nubians, Chinamen, Englishmen – all hastening on their various ways.

Pera proved to be a city quite modern in appearance, made up mostly of monotonous four-storied houses, new hotels, and shops filled with machine-made Oriental goods. The houses were flat-roofed and nearly all of them had balconies with cast-iron railings.

At last they arrived at their hotel, where they settled with Mustapha, who settled in turn with the owner of the horses.

“When I come next?” asked Mustapha. “You need interpriter dat spik lanquages well. I tak’ you all ofer efrywheres. You haf much troubles you try go ’thout good dragoman.”

By this time the professor had fully recovered, and he made arrangements with the dragoman, who then took his departure.

In the hotel they were turned over to a huge tattooed Nubian, his midnight blackness made more pronounced by the snow-white garments he wore. The Nubian conducted them to their rooms in the upper story, where their luggage was presently brought. Finding the rooms fairly satisfactory, with windows overlooking Pera, the Golden Horn, and giving them a view of the Turkish city beyond, they prepared to settle down and be satisfied.

First Dick took a long survey of the scene that could be beheld from the most advantageous window. From that point he could look away onto Galata and Stamboul, and again he was enchanted by the spectacle. The sun was shining on the palaces, mosques, and tall minarets, it was lighting the ripples of the Golden Horn, and over all was the superbly blue sky which defies the skill of the greatest artist.

Dick heaved a deep sigh.

“Strange that it all should seem so beautiful from a distance and that the beauty should so quickly vanish on close inspection,” he said. “In this case it is indeed true that ‘familiarity breeds contempt.’”

“That sure is right,” agreed Buckhart. “All the same, we’ll proceed to get familiar with it, I reckon.”

They next indulged in the luxury of a bath, taking turns, and all felt decidedly refreshed.

A call brought the Nubian, and they were informed that they could be served with anything they wished in their rooms, if they were willing to pay the extra charge.

After considerable discussion, they ordered a meal. There was sufficient delay to whet their appetites, and then the Nubian and an assistant reappeared, a table was spread, and they sat down to eat.

“A fried boot leg would taste good to me now,” declared the Texan. “That being the case, I reckon I’ll manage to get along on the fodder they supply here.”

But everything proved more than satisfactory. There was enough, and it was good.

During the meal the giant black man stood ready to wait on them. When not serving them, he folded his tattooed arms across his massive chest and regarded them steadily with his eyes. When they had finished the assistant reappeared, and the table and dishes were removed.

“I sure would hate to have that gent place his paws on me in violence,” observed Buckhart. “I opine he’s some powerful.”

“He looks like a Hercules,” said Dick.

“He made me extremely nervous,” confessed the professor. “I think I’ll inform the proprietor that we would much prefer having some one else attend us while we are here.”

“Don’t!” exclaimed Merriwell. “I rather fancy the Nubian.”

They lounged about for a time after eating, but finally the professor made an excuse to leave the boys, saying he would return soon.

“Pard,” chuckled Buckhart, when Zenas was gone, “the old boy did get a plenty smashed on the woman from Boston.”

“I’m glad we got him away from her – and from Major Fitts.”

“And I’m glad we won’t be bothered any more by that sneaking Turk, Aziz Achmet, who seemed spying on us. Wonder what Aziz took us for. I believe he was some sort of Turkish confidence man. He was a heap eager to act as Major Fitts’ second in a duel.”

“Think of Zenas Gunn in a duel!” exclaimed Dick, and they laughed heartily.

After a while Merriwell became worried over the professor’s protracted absence. Going to the door, he stepped outside.

He stepped into full view of two men, who were whispering in the shadows of a draped alcove.

One was the giant Nubian.

The other was Aziz Achmet, the mysterious Turk!

CHAPTER III – THE PERSISTENCE OF ACHMET

There was something decidedly ominous and sinister in the behavior of the coal-black giant and the silent, secretive Turk, who were whispering there in the shadows. In spite of himself, Dick felt a sudden faint chill, like an icy breath, sweep over him.

He stood quite still and regarded them steadily. They saw him, and their whispering stopped. The eyes of the tattooed black man seemed to gleam with a baleful fire, but his dark face remained as unchangeable as marble.

Slowly a strange smile overspread the countenance of Achmet. With a quick, silent step, he advanced toward the boy. He spoke in a low, soft tone:

“So you are safely here, my lad? I see no harm has befallen you.”

His English was almost perfect.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Dick. “This is not a place in which one of your faith should choose to linger, with the City of the Faithful so near. Indeed, I have been told that the better men of your religion never deign to contaminate themselves by setting foot in this place, which is polluted by the infidel. Your conduct is suspicious, to say the least.”

“It is seldom one who may not be well suspected is in such haste to suspect another,” retorted the Turk, still with that strange, faint smile which was very annoying to the boy.

Indignation swelled within Dick’s heart, for now he was fully satisfied that they were being spied upon by this man.

“Look here,” he said, “you’ll get into trouble if you continue to follow us about.”

“Be careful that you do not get into far more serious trouble.”

“There is no reason why we should get into trouble, for we have a way of minding our own business.”

“Then you are the first Americans I have seen who have that excellent habit,” retorted Achmet, in a manner that became more and more insulting.

Had Dick not learned by example and practice to control his temper, he might have lost his head. He kept cool, however – outwardly, at least.

“It is plain you have been spying on us,” he said. “We caught you in our stateroom on the steamer – ”

“An accident.”

“An accident, perhaps, that we caught you. It was no accident that you were there. What’s your game, man? You are up to some rascally business.”

“I like not your lack of politeness, boy. I am not the one to answer questions. It is you who should explain, but I will talk with the man whom you call professor.”

“I don’t know whether you will or not.”

“I demand to see him.”

“You will have to find him.”

“Is he not in those rooms?”

“No.”

“Let me see.”

The manner of Achmet plainly denoted that he did not believe Dick.

“We have engaged those rooms and paid in advance for them,” said Merriwell, still holding himself in check. “We are entitled to privacy in them, and we have no intention of admitting strange and suspicious visitors, especially a Turk of your questionable behavior.”

“You refuse me admittance?”

“Decidedly.”

Aziz Achmet made a quick sign to the black giant. Instantly the Nubian strode forward. Dick made a move to retreat, but the arm of the black man darted out and one powerful hand seized the lad. Merriwell had not overestimated the probable strength of the tattooed man, for, with scarcely an effort, it seemed, the boy was lifted from his feet and placed to one side.

Achmet quickly advanced to the door, flung it open, and entered the room.

Brad Buckhart had caught the hum of voices outside and was crossing the room to investigate when he found himself face to face with the Turk.

“Waugh!” exclaimed the Texan, in surprise.

“Pardon, boy,” said Achmet, still maintaining his quiet manner and soft speech. “I would speak with the professor.”

“Is that so?” said Brad. “Well, whoever invited you to walk in all unceremonious and chirklike? It strikes me that you are some forward in your deportment. Where’s my pard?”

“Here!” cried Dick, who had been released by the Nubian, and who now hastened into the room. “This man forced an entrance. He has dogged us here, Brad.”

“Dogged is a proper word for it, I reckon!” grated the Texan, beginning to bridle. “Forced his way in, did he? Well, I judge we’ll just shoot him out on his neck and teach him a bit of common decency!”

He proceeded to strip off his coat in a very businesslike manner.

“Hold!” commanded Achmet. “You will regret it, you infidel whelp, if you place your vile hands on me!”

“Whoop!” roared the Westerner. “We’ll sure see about that right away! Come on, partner!”

But now the Nubian stalked into the room, apparently ready to take a hand in the encounter, and Achmet called attention to him.

“This man alone,” he declared, “is more than the equal of twenty boys. He once slew a strong man with a single blow of his fist. If you lift a finger against me he will rend you. Be careful!”

In spite of this warning Buckhart would have pitched in; but Dick had better judgment and hastened to restrain his friend.

“The black man is dangerous, Brad,” he said, in a low tone. “Unless we use deadly weapons, he can master us alone. Besides that, we do not wish to kick up an uproar unless forced to do so. Steady, old man!”

“Whoop!” cried Brad. “This business is making me sizzle a heap!”

“It is an outrage, and we’ll enter a complaint.”

“You bet your boots!”

“That is your privilege,” smiled Achmet, in his half-sneering way. “When I am through, you may complain as much as you like; but first bring forth the professor, that I may question him. Why is he hiding?”

“Hiding? Do you think he would hide from you?” exclaimed Dick. “I tell you he is not here. Look for yourself.”

“And be right careful that none of our belongings stick to your fingers,” growled the Texan. “We’ve been robbed in various ways from London all the way here; but this is the first time any one has tried the game open and brazen, like this.”

“You are not in the least danger of being robbed,” assured the Turk. “I invite you to watch me, in order that you may see you have no complaint of that sort to make.”

He then looked into the adjoining room, and the bath.

“Well, are you satisfied?” demanded Dick.

Achmet showed a trace of annoyance and disappointment. He stated that he had been told by the Nubian that the professor was there, and further that he was sure Zenas Gunn had not left the hotel since his arrival.

“Which makes it plain that he has played the spy on us right along,” said Dick, addressing Brad, but not lowering his voice.

“Sure!” rasped Buckhart.

“I will wait for his return,” said the Turk. “While I am waiting, perhaps you will inform me what business has brought you to this country.”

“Our business is none of your business,” declared Dick.

“Of that I will judge when I am satisfied that I have learned your business.”

“We are traveling.”

“For what purpose?”

“To see the world.”

“Two boys and an old man. In Italy your behavior was suspicious. You disappeared from Naples in great haste, without explaining why you left so suddenly or whither you went.”

“Great tarantulas!” muttered Brad. “He’s even got track of us as far back as that.”

“In Venice you were concerned in some singular and unaccountable things, and in Greece you had dealings with lawless characters. Had you remained in Athens, you must have explained your actions to officials of the city government. You left there, also, in haste.”

Dick wondered that the man should know so much of their movements.

“It seems,” continued Achmet, “that in various places the police have been warned against you; but that in each instance they sought to find out about you only to find you suddenly departed.”

“This certain is a plenty interesting!” gasped Buckhart. “What does it mean, pard? Can you tell?”

Dick had been thinking swiftly. His hand fell on his friend’s arm.

“Brad, it is the work of Bunol and Marsh, our bitter enemies. They were sore because we fooled them by getting the Budthornes out of their power. They have lost track of Dunbar Budthorne and his sister, Nadia, but have managed somehow to keep trace of us, and have tried to cause us as much annoyance as possible.”

“I opine you’re right, Dick,” nodded Buckhart. “That’s just it. I wouldn’t be surprised to see those two onery varmints turn up any time. Well, they’ve succeeded in making a lot of fool work for a lot of fool people, and this is the first time we’ve been touched by it.”

Achmet had listened to their words with a manner of mingled interest and doubt. It was plain that he did not understand, and he was on the point of questioning them further when the sudden sound of excited and angry voices reached their ears through the partly open doorway.

“The professor!” cried Dick. “Something is doing, Brad! Come on!”

“Lay the trail, pard! I’m at your heels!”

They rushed forth and ran toward the point from which came the sound of those voices.

“You’re a miserable, crawling worm! You’re a whisky-soaked, dried-up, offensive squid! You have annoyed the lady by your obnoxious attentions, and they must cease!”

It was the voice of Zenas.

“Yo’, suh, are a long-eared jackass, suh, and I demand satisfaction fo’ your insults, suh!”

“Major Fitts!” exclaimed Dick, in dismay.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” shrilled another voice. “This is scandalous! You must not quarrel over me! It is shocking to my delicate sensibilities. I cannot permit it!”

“And Sarah Ann, sure as shooting!” cried Brad.

At the head of the stairs were three persons. Zenas Gunn was shaking his fist down at Major Fitts, while the major was shaking his fist up at the professor. Miss Ketchum had her hands clasped in an attitude of despair, while she implored them to desist.

Dick halted, folding his arms.

“Now what do you think of that?” he muttered, in disgust.

“It certain is some annoying,” chuckled Buckhart, pausing with his hands resting on his hips. “Shall we pitch in, pard, and break it up?”

“I’m tempted to let those two old fools have it out,” said Merriwell.

“Good idea! Mebbe it will cure them both.”

“Take your fist away!” snarled the professor, knocking the hand of the little man aside.

“Don’t yo’ strike at me, suh!” panted the major, his face red as a boiled lobster, and his gray mustache bristling.

“Strike at you!” retorted Zenas scornfully. “If I ever struck at you, you human wart, there wouldn’t be anything left of you but a grease spot!”

“Oh, please, please stop!” sobbed Sarah Ann, trying to get hold of them and force them apart.

“Yo’ had better hide behind a lady’s petticoat!” raged the man from Mississippi.

“Hide behind nothing!” retorted Gunn, giving Miss Ketchum an embrace and looking over one shoulder, while he reached over her other shoulder to again shake his fist at Fitts. “She is trying to keep me from annihilating you.”

Finding herself in the professor’s embrace, Miss Ketchum screamed and seemed on the point of fainting.

“Oh, Moses!” laughed Buckhart. “Look at that, pard – just look!”

“I see,” said Dick, also convulsed. “The professor isn’t losing the opportunity to hug Sarah Ann, and it makes the major bloodthirsty.”

Fitts danced round in an endeavor to get hold of Gunn, but the latter skillfully turned so that he kept Miss Ketchum’s limp form between them.

“Unhand that lady!” rasped the man from Mississippi, fairly frothing. “How dare yo’ behave in such a manner!”

“Oh, go back to your kennel!” advised Zenas.

The major caught hold of Sarah Ann and managed to dance round until he could get his hands on the professor.

“Release her!” he commanded.

Miss Ketchum straightened up a little.

“Such a shocking scandal!” she sobbed.

“Yo’ have compromised her, suh!” panted Fitts. “Yo’ shall pay the penalty with your life, suh!”

“I’ve stood just as much of this as I can!” grated Zenas. “I’ll just throw you downstairs!”

Which he attempted to do, while Sarah Ann again tried to part them. On the top stair both lost their balance. Wildly they grabbed at something as they toppled. The right hand of Zenas caught Miss Ketchum. The left hand of the major closed on her, also. Then all three toppled, a shriek of terror escaped the woman, and down they went.

Bump, bump, bump-ety-bump!

Tangled in a most astonishing manner, the three seemed to bound like a huge rubber ball from stair to stair. At intervals legs and arms shot out from the mass and described half circles in the air. The woman continued to scream, the professor yelled, while the major grunted and gasped with every thump. It sounded as if the entire hotel was falling.

“Oh, say, pard, this is awful!” cried Buckhart, rushing toward the stairs.

“I’m afraid the professor will be somewhat dented,” said Dick, also losing no time.

Thud! crash!

The trio landed at the bottom of the stairs.

Sarah Ann struck in a sitting posture, with her skirts outspread. She was minus a wig and a full set of false teeth, and she presented a ludicrous spectacle of wreck and despair. Both men were beneath her, and having landed on them she did not seem to be seriously harmed.

Dick and Brad bounded down the stairs and reached her.

“Are you hurt, madam?” questioned Merriwell, his natural chivalry causing him to express anxiety for her first.

She spoke, and strange were the mumbling sounds which issued from her toothless mouth. “I’ve sost my seesh in thish dishgrashful affairsh,” she answered. “Be sho kindsh to reshtorsh my seesh, pleash.”

“Here madam,” said Dick, picking up something, “are part of them.”

“And here, madam,” said Brad, also picking something up, “are the rest of them.”

She hastily slipped them into her mouth, while Mowbry Fitts began to kick and shout.

“Let me get up!” he called, in a muffled voice.

“Be quiet,” said Miss Ketchum, “until I have arranged my toilet.”

Her head was almost entirely devoid of hair.

“Perhaps this may assist you,” said Dick, discovering her wig and handing it to her.

“Help!” called the husky voice of Professor Gunn. “I’m smothering! I can’t breathe!”

“You don’t deserve to breathe,” said Miss Ketchum, calmly adjusting the wig. “You are two indecent creatures, and I am sure you have disgraced me forever.”

Major Fitts was becoming frantic.

“I’m dying!” he groaned.

“I’m dead!” came faintly from Professor Gunn.

By this time scores of guests had reached the spot and stood asking questions. Others were coming. The whole house had been aroused.

“Dick,” said Brad, “I do believe the professor is smothering! She’s sitting on his head, and his struggles are growing weaker.”

“Lift her, Brad,” said Merriwell.

They caught hold of her and stood her on her feet.

“Water!” gasped the professor.

“Whisky!” wheezed the major.

They lay on their backs, having managed to roll over, gasping for breath.

Miss Ketchum looked down at them with an air of contempt.

“I hope,” she said, “that the proprietor has you both locked up as lunatics! You are the worst old fools I ever saw! So there!”

Then, declining assistance, she hurried up the stairs.

CHAPTER IV – THE CHALLENGE

The final words of Sarah Ann ere she pranced up the stairs did much to revive the professor and the major. They sat up and looked at each other. The expression on their faces was comical in the extreme.

“She meant you, sir!” rasped Gunn.

“She meant yo’, suh!” snapped Fitts.

“I think she plainly included both of you,” said Dick; “and I fancy it is the opinion of all present that she hit the nail on the head.”

“I don’t know about the nail,” groaned Zenas; “but I’m sure something hit me on the head. And that woman – that heartless jade – sat on me! She nearly finished me!”

“Had she completed the job,” declared the major, “it would have been a blessing, suh. It would have disposed of a pestiferous, weak-minded, addle-pated, goggle-eyed – ”

“Hold on! Stop right there!” cried Zenas. “That will do! You have reached the limit, sir – the limit!”

“Yo’ may think so, suh; but yo’ll find this is far from the limit. I am a man of honor, and I demand satisfaction. I demand blood!”

“He’s a butcher!” chuckled Brad.

“You have it already,” said Zenas. “Your nose is bleeding, sir.”

“You know what I mean. I demand that you meet me in mortal combat. You escaped me once, but you shall not escape again. I caught you sneaking around the door of Miss Ketchum’s room and – ”

“I caught you there, you fabricator!” flung back the professor.

At this point the proprietor of the hotel appeared on the scene and promptly announced that he would not have such things in his house. He threatened to eject them both, whereupon Dick hastened to assure the angry man that he would take care of the professor and see that there was no further disturbance.

Then Dick and Brad lifted Zenas to his feet and started him up the stairs, one on either side.

“You shall hear from me again!” cried the major, in defiance of those who had raised him and were dragging him away.

“Bah, sir!” Zenas flung over his shoulder.

“Boo, suh!” Fitts hurled back.

“Slowly, slowly, boys!” groaned the old pedagogue. “I feel as if all my joints were dislocated and half my bones were broken. It’s a wonder my head is not mashed flat, for that woman – that creature – sat on it! Then she called me an old fool!”

“But,” said Dick, “you know you could spend your life at her feet, listening to the musical murmur of her heavenly voice.”

“Her voice sounds like tearing a rag!” sneered Zenas. “She’s all skin and bones, and – ”

“Why, professor!” interrupted Brad. “I heard you assert that her form had the grace of a gazelle.”

“Never – never said it! She’s a hatchet-faced old – ”

“Tut! tut!” chided Dick. “You know you admired her the first time you beheld her intellectual and classic countenance.”

“Now stop it, boys! Did you see her glare at me with those fishy eyes?”

“Awful!” exclaimed Dick. “You called her eyes limpid lakes.”

“I deny it! I deny it! And she has false teeth, for I heard her mumble that she lost them when she fell.”

“You distinctly stated,” reminded Buckhart, “that her teeth were pearls beyond price.”

“I think they cost about eleven dollars a set,” estimated Dick.

“And her golden halo of hair came off in the shuffle,” said the Texan. “She’s as bald as a billiard ball.”

“Say no more!” entreated Zenas. “Get me to my room and spread me on the bed. Boys, if you ever tell of this – if you ever even mention it again – I’ll send you both back home!”

By this time they had reached their rooms, and they helped the old fellow to the bed, on which he slowly sank, groaning as if in great distress.

“Bring me my medicine, Richard,” he entreated. “I must have a small dose. You will find it in my medicine case. The leather-covered flask, Richard. That’s it. Never mind pouring any. I’ll take it directly from the flask. It is a harmless tonic, and I need it greatly just now.”

He took a long pull at the leather-covered flask. After that he lay back and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly they popped open and he exclaimed:

“To think that creature should call me an old fool!”

“But you know pearls of wisdom drop from her sweet lips,” laughed Dick.

“And she is a lofty-minded, angelic girl,” added Brad.

“Get out of here, you two rascals!” cried the old man. “You’re laughing at me, you ungrateful scamps! Do you want to drive me crazy? Leave me to meditate on the frailty of human flesh.”

The laughing lads retired to the adjoining room.

“Well, one good thing happened,” said Dick; “it cured him of his foolishness over Sarah Ann.”

“He sure is well cured,” agreed Buckhart.

There came a sharp knock on the door. Before they could open it, it was flung wide by the giant Nubian, and Aziz Achmet again entered the room.

“This is too much!” exclaimed Dick. “I’ll call the proprietor and see if we are to be annoyed by this man in this outrageous manner.”

“Wait a moment, boy,” advised the Turk, still maintaining his cool and insolent manner. “I am here on most important business. Professor Gunn has been challenged to mortal combat by Major Fitts, and I have come as the representative of the major to make arrangements for the affair of honor.”

“Well,” said Dick, “you may return and tell that little blusterer to go to a warmer clime! Professor Gunn is not a fighting man, and he will not meet Major Fitts in a duel.”

“Hold on – hold on, Richard!” called the professor, who was beginning to feel the influence of the “medicine” from the leather-covered flask. “Don’t be so hasty! I want you to understand that I am no coward! That withered old pippin can’t frighten me! No, sir! If he wants to fight a duel, I’ll meet him, and I’ll give him all he wants of it!”

“Professor, you – ”

“Stop, Richard – stop right there! I know my own business. If I were to let that mistake from Mississippi drive me into my boots I’d never after have the face to look at my own reflection in a mirror.”

“But a duel, professor – a real duel – ”

“I know. It’s all right. I’ll show him the kind of stuff I’m made of, I will! He thinks he’ll frighten me, but he’ll find out he can’t jar me a bit. I’ll meet him with weapons of any sort. I’ll meet him anywhere!”

“Whoop!” cried Buckhart. “The old boy means it, pard, and I reckon he’ll make good!”

“Mowbry Fitts will find out that I’ll make good,” said Zenas. “He can’t send his representative here and frighten Zenas Gunn, of Fardale. Fix it up, Richard. You shall be my second. I leave it all to you. That unfortunate fall shook me up, and I’m a trifle dizzy. I’ll retire again. But this gentleman had better tell old Fitts to prepare for his funeral. That’s all he’ll be good for when I am through with him.”

Then Zenas again retired to his room.

Aziz Achmet waited. Dick Merriwell thought swiftly.

“Where and when shall this duel take place?” he asked.

“There is an old cemetery a short distance up the street,” said the Turk.

“Well?”

“It will be an excellent place for the meeting.”

“And the hour?”

“Daybreak to-morrow, if it suits you.”

“That’s all right.”

“The weapons – ”

“We have the choice of weapons,” interrupted Merriwell.

“And you choose swords – or pistols?”

“We will not only choose the weapons, we’ll provide them,” said the boy. “I’ll have them on hand, Mr. Achmet.”

“But it is customary to settle all these little details in advance, boy.”

“You have forced this affair on Professor Gunn. I guarantee that he will be on hand at the appointed time to-morrow morning. I also guarantee that he will have the weapons. If you’re not satisfied with that, get out of these rooms and cease to annoy us further.”

“That’s business!” cried Buckhart.

Achmet seemed to think a moment, but he finally bowed, retreating gracefully toward the door.

“It is only a single point,” he said, “and I shall advise my principal to concede it. But I wish you to understand that we shall be on our guard for trickery, and I’ll see that Major Fitts has a fair and even chance.”

Then he passed through the door, which the Nubian closed.

CHAPTER V – IN THE CEMETERY

When Pera was swept by fire but one thing in the burned portion remained practically unchanged. It was an old cemetery. It is there to-day, in the midst of the city of modern buildings, and this cemetery was the spot chosen by Aziz Achmet for the duel.

To this old graveyard in the dusky light of morning came three persons. One was an old man, haggard and pallid; the others were boys. The boys each carried a basket carefully covered by a cloth.

Professor Gunn had scarcely closed his eyes in sleep that night. He tried to sleep, but his “medicine” ran out, and without its soothing influence he wooed slumber in vain. During the greater part of the night he had walked the floor of his room or sat writing at a little table.

Beneath the dismal cypress trees which filled the cemetery it was still quite dark.

“Boys,” whispered the professor, as they paused on the point of entering, “can you see anything of them?”

“Can’t see much of anything,” answered Dick, “only what looks like a lot of drunken ghosts.”

In truth the graveyard seemed filled with reeling, ghostly forms, but, on closer inspection, these were found to be tombstones. The human appearance of these lurching stones was explained on closer examination, for it is the custom of the Turks to carve the stone above the grave of every man so that its top is crowned either with a turban or a fez. Seen in a dim light, the tilted stones looked remarkably like staggering human forms, robed in white.

“Boo!” muttered Buckhart, shrugging his broad shoulders. “This sure is a spooky old place.”

Both boys heard a sudden sound like rattling dice. They discovered it came from the professor, whose teeth were chattering loudly.

“Keep a stiff backbone, professor,” advised Dick. “It will all be over in a short time.”

“Ye-yes,” faltered Zenas, “it will all bub-bub-be over fuf-fuf-for me. Richard, I fuf-fuf-feel that I am gug-gug-going to fuf-fuf-fall.”

“Nonsense! Why, you were bold as a lion last night when Achmet called.”

“Bub-bub-but that was lul-lul-last nun-nun-night,” chattered the shaking old fellow. “Besides, I had tut-tut-taken some tut-tut-tonic. I wush I ha-ha-had sus-sus-some nun-nun-now.”

“It sure is a shame you ran out of tonic,” said Brad. “But you won’t be any good whatever unless you get a brace on. You’ve got to fight Fitts now.”

“Yes, you’ll have to give him fits,” said Dick, making a poor pun. “You can’t back out without being branded as a coward, after which you’d never again dare look at your own reflection in a mirror.”

“I know it,” sighed Zenas; “but I was a fool to be so bub-brave last night! That woman is responsible for it all! If I dud-dud-die, my blood will be on her head!”

“But you’re not going to fall,” declared Buckhart.

They finally succeeded in leading him into the gloom of the cemetery, and he seemed greatly relieved when they ascertained beyond doubt that Major Fitts and his second had not arrived.

“Perhaps they won’t come at all,” said the old pedagogue eagerly.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Dick; “but I wouldn’t count on that, for I believe Achmet will bring the major.”

But the professor was hopeful as well as anxious. He watched the gray light of morning sifting through the cypress branches and bringing out the ghostly tombstones with more and more distinctness. Then he began to fear.

“I – I think there is no doubt about it,” he said, at last. “He is not coming, boys. He’s a bluffer. He tried to bluff me, but he failed.”

Having arrived at this conclusion, he rapidly grew indignant.

“This thing is outrageous!” he blustered – “outrageous, I say! Why, the craven little whipper-snapper! Just think of it, he hasn’t the courage to come here like a man and meet me in mortal combat! He is a coward – that’s what he is, a coward! A fire eater, indeed! Bah! The next time I meet him, I shall tweak his nose! Yes, sir, tweak it!”

In the dim, gray light Dick and Brad exchanged glances. Neither laughed, but both felt like it.

“I’m tired of waiting,” declared Zenas. “The time is past. He isn’t coming, and we may as well return to the hotel.”

“I think we had better wait a little longer,” urged Dick.

“But what’s the use. It’s morning now, and that craven from Mississippi is not on hand. I’ll warrant he is hiding beneath his bed this very minute.”

“I opine you’re mistaken, professor,” said Brad dryly. “If I ain’t a heap mistaken, here he comes now.”

“Where?” gasped Zenas.

“There,” said the Texan, motioning toward three dim figures which were entering the cemetery and approaching. “I reckon it’s Major Fitts, accompanied by two friends.”

“Oh, Lordy!” groaned the professor, growing limp and leaning on Dick’s shoulder, all the bluster taken out of him in a second.

Once more Merriwell urged the old pedagogue to brace up.

“Don’t let him see you’re afraid,” he urged. “Do stiffen up, professor!”

“Richard,” groaned Zenas, “I had a premonition that my time had come. Here, Richard, take these papers. One is my last will and testament. The other is a fond adieu to my wife. Poor Nancy! how I pity her! She’ll never see me again! Tell her how I perished, Richard. Perhaps some time – when I’m gone – you may think – of me. It is a fearful thing – to perish – in a foreign land – far from – the loved ones – at home.”

The old man choked and could speak no more.

The three persons were now quite near, and by the dim light the boys could recognize the short figure of Major Fitts. Aziz Achmet had the major by the arm and seemed talking to him earnestly in low tones. The third man carried a small hand case, and seemed like a surgeon.

Fitts and the surgeon stopped a short distance away, while Achmet advanced swiftly, with his usual soft step.

“I see you are here, gentlemen,” he said.

“We are,” returned Dick; “but we began to think you were not coming. Professor Gunn is anxious to have this affair over in order that he may take a bath before breakfast.”

“A bath!” said the Turk. “Before breakfast?”

“Yes; he always has his morning shower or sponge.”

“But he may not need one this morning.”

“I reckon he will,” muttered Buckhart, to himself. “If Fitts’ aim is any good, the professor sure will need one a heap.”

“Major Fitts,” said Achmet, “is inclined to be magnanimous.”

“Indeed?” said Dick questioningly.

“Yes; he wishes me to say that he has no real desire to slay one of his own countrymen.”

“Kind of him!”

“And, therefore, if Professor Gunn will apologize, he will overlook the insult and spare him.”

“I – I think I had better do it, Richard!” whispered Zenas.

“Mr. Achmet,” said Dick stiffly, “you will kindly inform Major Fitts that he has quite misunderstood the situation. Tell him that unless he immediately apologizes in the most humble manner Professor Gunn insists that the affair be carried through to the bitter end.”

“To the bitter end!” put in Buckhart. “That’s the stuff!”

The Turk bowed.

“Then there is nothing else to be done but to arrange the preliminaries. I will speak to the major a moment.”

As soon as Achmet’s back was turned the professor seized Dick and almost sobbed in his ear:

“Richard, Richard, why did you do it? My blood will be on your head!”

“Hush!” returned Dick. “Don’t you see the major is frightened worse than you are? Achmet has dragged him here, and he’s ready to take to his heels and run for his life.”

“Wh-what?” gasped Zenas, straightening up as if electrified. “Are you sure?”

“No question about it. Achmet is having a difficult time to hold him now.”

It was a fact that Mowbry Fitts was very much disturbed. He protested that there might be a mutual understanding through which the affair could be dropped. All the way to the cemetery he had hoped that the professor would not be there and would fail to appear. He now declared that Achmet was responsible for the whole wretched affair.

“It is a shame that two highly intelligent men, two eminently respectable citizens of a great and glorious country, should meet here, suh, in this wretched old cemetery, suh, and slaughter each other in cold blood,” he said.

Achmet shrugged his shoulders.

“I am quite surprised in you,” he declared. “I thought you a brave man. The other American is waiting and anxious. If you show the white feather now, you will be branded the rest of your life as a coward.”

At last the major seemed to brace up. He announced that he was ready for the worst.

By this time it had grown quite light outside, although there were still deep shadows in the cemetery.

Again Achmet turned to the professor and the boys.

“We are ready,” he said. “Where are the weapons?”

The surgeon was kneeling on the ground, having opened his case. He was laying out his instruments on a white cloth.

“If you are ready, we are,” said Dick. “The weapons are in these baskets. You may select either basket you choose. Let the major remove his coat in order that his arms may be free and unhampered. Professor, strip.”

Smothering a groan, Zenas permitted Brad to assist him in removing his coat. Major Fitts also took his coat off.

Achmet hesitated when invited to choose one of the baskets. He feared a trick and inquired if the weapons in one basket were identical with those in the other. Dick assured him that there was not the slightest difference.

“I selected them myself with the greatest care,” asserted the boy. “They are good and strong.”

“And rank,” muttered Buckhart softly.

“Let the major and the professor stand ten paces apart,” said Dick. “At that distance, they should be able to hit each other once in three shots, at least. Let them begin firing at the word and continue until one or the other falls, cries enough, or the ammunition is exhausted. Brad, pace the distance.”

Buckhart did so promptly, but his paces were very short. He made a mark with his heel for Zenas and another to indicate the position of the major.

In the meantime Achmet had selected one of the baskets and carried it to the point where his principal was to stand. Dick placed the other near the spot marked for the professor. Neither of the duelists knew the sort of weapons decided on, and both watched with great anxiety the uncovering of the baskets.

Taking note of Achmet’s movements, Dick removed the cloth from the professor’s basket at the same moment that the Turk lifted the covering of the other basket.

Both baskets were filled with eggs!

“Eggs?” gasped Fitts.

“Eggs?” breathed Gunn.

“Eggs-actly,” chuckled Brad Buckhart.

“Why, I – I don’t understand!” faltered the professor.

“What does this mean, gentlemen?” demanded the major. “Will yo’ kindly explain it?”

“Having the choice of weapons,” said Dick, “I decided on eggs, good and rank. Here they are. Only fools fight duels over trivial things with deadly weapons. With these eggs you cannot kill each other, but you can soak each other to your hearts’ content and thus satisfy your wounded honor.”

“But, suh, I never heard of such a thing, suh!” exploded Fitts. “It is ridiculous!”

“All right,” returned Dick. “If you object, I have brought these.”

He produced two huge pistols.

“One,” continued Dick, “is loaded. The other is not. You shall toss for choice. Then you shall stand at arm’s length, place the pistols against each other’s breast, and pull the triggers at the word. A moment later one of you will be a dead man, while the other will be unharmed. Does that suit you better, major?”

“It’s unusual – decidedly unusual, suh! No, suh, it does not suit me at all, suh! I prefer the eggs.”

“Good!” whispered Zenas. “So do I!”

“Then take your positions, gentlemen,” ordered Dick.

Aziz Achmet threw up his hands, shaking his head in a baffled manner.

“Oh, these Americans, these Americans!” he muttered, retreating. “I had hoped they might destroy each other, which would save me further trouble with them. Now they are going to fight a duel with rotten eggs! Pah!”

The surgeon hastily threw his instruments into the case, which he closed and picked up, also retreating to get out of probable danger of being hit by one of those eggs.

The professor and the major got ready for action. Each picked up as many eggs as he could hold in his left hand and took one in his right.

“Are you ready, gentlemen?” asked Dick, also backing off a little, an example followed by Brad.

“Ready!” answered both.

“Then – fire!”

Whizz! Spat!

The major missed, but the professor’s aim was accurate, and he struck Fitts fairly in the centre of his white shirt bosom. The man from Mississippi staggered and clapped his hand to his nose.

“Oh, whew! Oh, murder!” he gasped. “That was not an egg! If it was it was laid two thousand years ago!”

Whizz! – another one flew past the major’s ear. This aroused him, and he got into action once more. Eggs flew through the air with increasing rapidity. While stooping to get a fresh supply of ammunition from his basket, Zenas was struck fairly on top of his bald head. The yellow mass spattered in all directions.

A strong odor filled the air, reaching the nostrils of both Dick and Brad, who were laughing heartily.

“Great horn spoon!” gurgled the Texan. “For a duel this sure beats! Look at ’em, pard! The professor got it in the neck that time! There – he hit the major! They’ll be sights in a minute!”

Dick was laughing in his old, rollicking way.

“Oh, ha, ha, ha! Go it, professor! Soak him! That’s the way! Ha, ha, ha!”

Never had that grim and gloomy cemetery resounded with such shouts of merriment.

“Oh, I’ll fix him!” cried Zenas. “I’ll teach him a lesson! I’ll teach him to challenge me! I’ll – Murder! I’m blinded!”

In truth he had been struck fairly between the eyes, and the mass that spattered over his face completely blinded him.

“Teach me, will yo’, suh?” triumphantly shouted the major. “Oh, I don’t know!”

Dick was gasping for breath.

“Brad, it’s t-too much!” he laughed, holding onto his sides. “Ha, ha, ha! It’s too much!”

Professor Gunn wiped his sleeve across his eyes. Then he tried the other sleeve and succeeded in clearing them.

“Have yo’ got enough, suh?” demanded the major. “Cry quits, suh, if yo’ have.”

“Never – never while I live!” grated Zenas.

“Then I’ll have to finish yo’, suh. I offered yo’ – ”

He said no more, for at that instant an egg thrown with all the force Zenas Gunn could command struck him full and fair in the mouth.

The little man went down as if shot.

“Whee!” shrilled the professor. “Got him then!”

Fitts kicked and floundered and then rolled over on his stomach, lifting himself to his hands and knees. The sounds he emitted were trying on those who heard him.

At this juncture two ladies suddenly appeared on the scene, having approached during the excitement without being observed. They were Sarah Ann Ketchum and an Englishwoman whom she had found in the hotel and induced to accompany her to the scene of the duel.

Major Fitts had written her a passionate note of farewell, telling her about the duel, where it was to be fought and when. This he had intrusted to a servant to be delivered that morning. The servant had not waited for Miss Ketchum to rise, but had rapped at her door until she got up and received the message. When she comprehended its contents she lost not a moment in dressing and getting the other woman to accompany her to the scene of the “deadly” meeting.

When she saw Major Fitts on his hands and knees, giving utterance to those distressing and terrible sounds, she shrieked and ran forward.

“Oh, heavens!” she cried. “He is slain! He is wounded unto death! He is dying! Hear him gurgle, and groan, and gasp for breath! It is a horrible tragedy!”

“Great horn spoon!” exclaimed Buckhart. “Sarah Ann is on deck, pard.”

“She has arrived too late to prevent the fearful deed,” said Dick.

The lady from Boston saw Professor Gunn. She shook her clenched hands at him and screamed:

“You murderer! You have killed the poor major! You have slain the idol of my heart!”

“Great Cæsar!” gasped Zenas. “So she acknowledged that human wart as the idol of her heart! Well, she may take her idol, eggs and all!”

Sarah Ann fell on her knees beside the major, clasping him in her arms.

“Poor, poor hero!” she sobbed. “Tell me where you are wounded.”

“Fo’ the love of goodness, go ’way!” gurgled Fitts thickly.

“What is this horrid odor?” she exclaimed chokingly. “It is frightful!”

“Turkish cemeteries always smell that way, madam,” huskily declared the major. “Please go ’way! Please let me die in peace!”

“Never! I will remain by you until the last! I will – But I can’t endure this terrible odor! I’m growing faint! And what is this sticky substance all over your clothes?”

“That’s blood – pure blood.”

She held up her hands. The light was now sufficient for her to see.

“But it’s not red – it’s yellow!”

“That’s the color of my blood, madam. I’ve had yellow fever. Do go ’way!”

“But it smells – it smells – Why, it’s everywhere! It’s on the ground!”

“I’ve shed gallons of it already. I beg yo’ to leave me!”

“And those brutes are permitting you to bleed to death! What monsters!”

She began to grow hysterical. The language she applied to the professor made him wince. It also aroused his resentment. When she repeatedly called him a murderer he finally decided that the limit had been reached. Prancing over to her, he shrilly cried:

“Madam, you are needlessly wasting your sympathy on that little runt. He’s not seriously harmed, I assure you. We did fight a duel, and I am the victor; but we did not engage with deadly weapons, and Major Fitts is not dying.”

“Not dying? Did not use deadly weapons? Why – why, what did you use?”

“Eggs, madam – rotten eggs; and I am proud to say that I pasted him with them in a most scientific manner.”

“Eggs?” screamed Miss Ketchum, springing up and looking at her besmeared hands. “Rotten eggs? Then this is not his blood!”

“Hardly,” assured Zenas.

“Oh, horrible! Disgusting! It is perfectly shameful and outrageous! Look at my hands! Look at my waist! And the smell! I’m going to faint! Catch me!”

“Not on your life!” exclaimed Gunn, backing off. “I’ve learned my little book.”

She did not faint. Instead, she stiffened up like a ramrod and denounced both the duelists in scathing and scornful terms. Once more she declared that both were fools, and finally she fled, accompanied by the Englishwoman.

CHAPTER VI – THE SIGHTS OF STAMBOUL

“Well, boys,” said Professor Gunn, some days later, as the trio were lounging in their rooms after the midday meal, “what do you think of Constantinople? Have you seen about enough of it?”

“Well, we have seen a great deal,” confessed Dick. “It is a fascinating and bewildering place, with its narrow, dirty streets, its swarms of people of many races, its veiled women, its dogs, its palaces and watch towers – in short, its thousands of strange sights.”

“It is a whole lot queer,” nodded Buckhart. “It gives me a right odd feeling to stand beside a mosque and see a muezzin come out on the balcony of a minaret and utter the call to prayer. The way he chants it kind of stirs something inside of me: ‘God is great; there is but one God; Mohammed is the prophet of God; prayer is better than sleep; come to prayer!’ Oh, I’ve got her all down fine, and I’ll never forget the words nor how they sound.”

“I suppose there are lots of places we have not seen, together with plenty of interesting things,” said Dick. “The thing that I’ll remember longest is the dance of the howling dervishes.”

“You bet that was a corker!” exclaimed the Texan, sitting up. “I opine I’ve got good nerves, but it certain came near driving me crazy to see them, a full dozen, just whirling and whirling like tops.”

“Then when they began to chant and howl!” said Dick. “The way they wailed, and groaned, and cried, ‘Allah, hough! Allah, hough!’ was enough to disturb nerves of steel.”

“But the finish was the worst, when all the whirlers had their eyes set and their lips covered with foam. No more howling-dervish shows for me!”

“Nor me, pard!”

“Well, when you youngsters get tired of Constantinople we’ll move on,” said Zenas.

“I sure would like to know whatever became of Major Fitts and Miss Ketchum,” said Brad.

“Never mind them!” exclaimed the professor hastily. “It was a great relief when they both took themselves out of this hotel after that – after that encounter in the cemetery.”

“After your bloody duel, professor,” laughed Dick. “That was a fearful encounter, from which you came forth the victor.”

“But somewhat damaged myself,” confessed Zenas. “Boys, you want to remember what will happen to you if you ever relate that affair to any one.”

Buckhart grinned.

“Miss Ketchum was some excited when she arrived on the scene of action. She thought the major was dying. I don’t wonder, for the sounds he emitted after being struck in the mouth by that egg sure sounded like he was coughing up the ghost.”

“She certainly was disgusted when she found the major’s yellow blood was smashed rotten eggs,” said Dick.

“She had the stuff all over her hands after putting her arms about him. Partner, that was a great racket!”

“Hum! haw!” coughed the professor. “Of course, on the major’s account I was willing to carry out the programme and use eggs, but it was beneath my dignity, and I should have preferred a regular duel with pistols or swords.”

“Professor!” exclaimed Dick. “Why, you know you were somewhat timid over the result before you learned what sort of weapons were to be used.”

“Because I did not wish to have human blood on my hands. It was entirely for Major Fitts that I was worried.”

“I opine,” said Brad, “that old Aziz Achmet was just about as disgusted as any one. It is my judgment that the old pirate wanted to see the professor and the major carve each other up, though just what his reason for it was I can’t say.”

“He disappeared at the same time when Sarah and the major vanished,” said Dick. “He was becoming a nuisance, and I thought we might have no end of trouble with him while in this place. However, I fancy he found out he was wasting his time spying on us. I’m still confident that Bunol and Marsh caused us to be placed under surveillance by the Turkish secret police.”

“The Turkish secret police?” exclaimed Zenas. “You don’t mean to say – ”

“There is such a body, and Aziz Achmet belonged to it. We were suspicious characters, and he watched us. But I have an idea that he finally decided that we were exactly what we represented ourselves to be, ordinary travelers. Miss Ketchum, however, belongs to a society that is seeking to investigate and correct the wrongs of the Armenians in Turkey, and, therefore, Achmet transferred his attention wholly to her.”

“Good gracious!” spluttered the professor. “Although she turned out to be a hatchet-faced old maid, I hope no harm has come to her in this heathen land.”

“Don’t you worry,” laughed Dick. “Major Fitts will look out for her. All I ask is that he keeps her away from us.”

“I don’t think the major wants to see us again,” chuckled Brad. “I’m sure he wouldn’t fancy having the story of that duel get back to Natchez, Mississippi.”

“Well, boys, shall we spend the afternoon in talk, or shall we go out and see something?” asked the professor.

They quickly decided that they were ready to go out, and once more rose the question of what they should see.

“I have it!” cried the old pedagogue.

“Name it,” urged Dick.

“The Underground Palace.”

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t heard of it? Good! It’s the very place for us to visit this day. Wait; I’ll send for Mustapha. Hope he’s not engaged, for we must go over into Stamboul, and I do not fancy visiting that place without a good guide and interpreter.”

“I should say not!” exclaimed Dick. “If ever there was a place just made to get lost in it’s Stamboul, with its maze of narrow, crooked, unnamed streets and unnumbered houses.”

“Correct, pard,” agreed Brad. “I can get lost quicker and a heap sight worse in Stamboul than on a trackless desert. We sure must take a dragoman if we’re going to amble over there.”

So the black Nubian, who seemed always waiting for a call, was summoned and instructed to send out for the dragoman engaged by Dick on their arrival, to pilot them from the steamer to their hotel.

In less than thirty minutes Mustapha appeared, salaming in true Turkish fashion, the tassel of his fez sweeping the floor.

“I here, effendi,” he said, addressing the professor. “What you haf of me?”

“We want to visit Stamboul.”

“I good dragoman. I guide you, effendi.”

“Our purpose is to see the great underground cistern sometimes called the Underground Palace.”

“Effendi, go not! Keep from there!” Mustapha showed great concern.

“Why should we not go there?” questioned the professor. “It is one of the great sights.”

“You haf for your life some valuement?”

“Certainly; but what can there be dangerous about a visit to the Underground Palace?”

“Maybe you haf not hear it, effendi?”

“Have not heard what?”

“One time some Engleeshman go there. They nefer come back.”

“What happened to them?”

Mustapha made a gesture with his hands indicative of vanishing into the air.

“Who answer it the question?” he said.

“Well, well!” muttered Zenas. “What do you think about this matter, boys?”

“My interest is aroused now,” answered Dick. “I want to see this mysterious place.”

“That’s right, pard. I’m sure some wrought up to see it myself. Of course we’ll go.”

“Too young to haf wisdom,” said Mustapha, with a gesture toward the boys.

“Come on, professor!” cried Dick. “If this dragoman will not act as guide for us, we can easily secure another.”

Instantly Mustapha hastened to assure them that he would be only too glad to act as their guide; but that they should pay him before visiting the Underground Palace, as they might never return, in which case he would lose his honestly earned due by neglecting to collect ahead.

They agreed to pay him in advance, and soon they set out from the hotel in Pera, eager to see the mysterious place that was said to hold so much of mystery and danger.

In the afternoon sunshine Stamboul was magnificent when seen from a distance. But when they had crossed the Golden Horn and plunged into the city all its impressiveness vanished. At intervals they came upon some splendid mosques, but mosques were far more impressive when seen from the proper distance.

Mustapha knew his business, and he conducted them to the place where they could descend and inspect the Underground Palace, but he declined to enter with them. For that purpose he called another man, with close-set, shifty eyes and a thin-lipped mouth.

“This dragoman, Bayazid,” he said. “He tak’ you.”

“Is he trustworthy?” asked the professor, with a slight show of nervousness.

“You not find one more so, effendi.”

So Bayazid, or “Pigeon,” as he was called in English, was engaged to show them the Underground Palace.

“I haf very good boat, effendi,” he declared.

“Whatever is that?” asked Buckhart. “Do we have to take a boat?”

“You will see,” answered Zenas.

The entrance was somewhat like that of a sewer, but there were stone steps leading down into the darkness of the place. The guide found and lighted two torches, which it seemed were kept for the use of those who wished to visit the Palace.

“Say, this is some boogerish!” said Brad, as they found themselves in a dark and damp cemented passage.

“The old city was built above a huge system of cisterns,” explained the professor. “Their purpose was to guard against a famine of water in time of war. Some of the old cisterns are dry now and are used by silk spinners. We shall visit one that still contains water.”

“But I thought we were going to see a palace,” said Dick, in disappointment.

“You shall see one – so called.”

The passage echoed to their tread, while their voices came back hollowly, as if hidden imps were mocking them.

But the boys were quite unprepared for the spectacle that suddenly met their gaze. They came from the passage into a mighty vaulted chamber, stretching away into an unknown distance and filled with a shadowy maze of marble columns, row on row. The floor of this wonderful place was smooth as a mirror and seemed black as ebony, save where the light of the torches fell on it. There it glittered, and gleamed, and shimmered.

Exclamations of astonishment and wonder broke from the lips of the two lads. The professor grasped them, one with either hand, and stopped them abruptly.

“We can’t go farther on foot,” he said.

“Eh? Why not?” asked the Texan, in surprise. “Look at that floor! Wouldn’t it be great to dance on! It’s smooth as glass and – ”

“You would get your feet wet if you attempted to dance on that,” declared Zenas.

“What? Why – why, it’s water!”

“Exactly.”

“But – but it looks black everywhere except where the light strikes directly on it.”

“Because no other ray of light reaches this place.”

Dick stooped and dipped his hand in the water, which reached to their very feet.

“Well, this is worth seeing!” he declared.

“This was constructed by Constantine more than fifteen hundred years ago,” explained the professor. “Think, boys, what you now behold is the work of man, yet it remains practically the same as when constructed fifteen centuries ago.”

“It looks like a partly submerged cathedral,” murmured Dick. “One can fancy all its worshipers and priests as drowned in that flood of black water. In fancy I seem to see their restless spirits floating above the surface of the lake, away, away yonder in the unknown distance. How large is it, professor?”

“There are three hundred and thirty-six of those marble columns, arranged in twenty-eight rows. I fancy the real reason why Mustapha refused to enter here is because of the many legends and tales told concerning the place. It is said that these vaults often echo to hollow laughter, and that the place is haunted by the ghosts of murdered sultans of past ages, whose places were usurped by the very monsters who intrigued to bring about the murders. Some claim that the spirits of the beautiful women destroyed by jealous sultans are doomed to float forever here above the surface of this buried lake, and that occasionally one of them is seen by a visitor for a single fleeting instant, then goes wailing and sobbing into the black distance.”

“Well, by the great horn spoon, I don’t know that I blame Mustapha for not coming here!” exclaimed Brad. “It’s the most spooky old hole I ever struck.”

At this juncture Bayazid inquired if they wished to take a boat and venture out a short distance on the water.

“Certainly,” answered Dick, at once. “I think it will be a novel experience, and I want to go. If Brad does not – ”

“Hold on, pard!” cried the Texan. “Wherever you go I go, you bet your boots! Mebbe I don’t like it a heap, but I’m with you.”

Bayazid left them and moved a short distance to the right. They watched him and saw the light of his torch fall on a black boat that lay motionless at the edge of the black lake. He stepped into the boat and soon brought it to the shore at their feet.

Dick and Brad followed the professor into the boat, which was large enough to accommodate two more persons, if the party had included them.

Bayazid had placed his torch in a socket that seemed arranged for it. He suggested that the others should extinguish theirs, as too much light close at hand would blind them, instead of making it possible for them to see better.

They accepted his suggestion, and slowly the boat slipped out upon the bosom of the soundless lake.

Suddenly there was a whirring rush through the air, and something brushed past the head of the professor, who uttered a squawk of alarm, struck out wildly with both hands and fell over backward off his seat to flounder in the bottom of the boat.

“Howling tornadoes!” gasped Buckhart. “Whatever was that?”

“A bat, effendi,” answered Bayazid.

Dick laughed.

“Goodness!” palpitated the professor, as he finally struggled up to his seat. “I confess it did frighten me, boys. Made me think of those restless ghosts which are said to wander forever above the bosom of this lake. Hadn’t we better go back?”

“Which way shall we go?” asked Dick.

They looked around. On every hand they saw nothing but marble pillars, shadows, and grim darkness.

“Waugh!” muttered the Texan. “I confess I couldn’t follow the back trail.”

“But Bayazid knows the way, don’t you, Bayazid?” anxiously asked the professor.

“I know it, effendi,” was the assurance. “Trust me.”

“I – I’m very glad you do!” breathed Zenas. “I think we will return at once.”

But Dick urged that they should go on a little farther, as Bayazid was thoroughly familiar with the place and there was no danger that they would become lost.

Brad always stuck by Dick, and the two overruled the old pedagogue.

Therefore Bayazid paddled slowly on. Had they seen his face they might have become suspicious and alarmed, but the shadows hid the crafty and treacherous look his countenance wore.

Finally they paused again, amid the labyrinth of pillars. Without the guide, not one of them could have told which course to follow in order to return to the point from which they started.

Suddenly Bayazid uttered an exclamation and stood up in the boat, staring into the darkness beyond his passengers.

Involuntarily the trio turned their heads to look, wondering what it could be that the guide saw.

Barely were their heads turned in that manner when the treacherous guide snatched the torch from its socket and plunged it into the water. There was a hissing sound and instant darkness.

CHAPTER VII – LOST ON THE BURIED LAKE

Dick Merriwell had brought along a revolver. He drew it in a moment and held it ready for use, expecting something to happen in the Stygian darkness of that terrible place.

Professor Gunn cried out to Bayazid, demanding to know the meaning of his act.

“Get hold of the onery varmint!” advised Buckhart. “Let me put my paws on him!”

The Texan floundered about, rocking the boat somewhat.

“Be careful, Brad!” warned Dick. “You don’t know what he will do! It may be intended for a joke, just to frighten us, and it may be intended for something else. I have a pistol. Keep away from him and let me do the business.”

“Pup-pup-perhaps it’s pup-pup-part of the regular pup-pup-programme,” chattered Professor Gunn. “Pup-pup-perhaps they always pup-pup-put out the tut-tut-torch when they have pup-pup-passengers on this old underground pup-pup-pond.”

“Be quiet,” directed Dick. “Bayazid.”

He called to the guide, but there was no answer.

“Bayazid!”

Again he called. His voice echoed hollowly in the unseen arches above their heads.

“Why doesn’t the blame fool answer?” growled Buckhart.

“Strike a match, Brad,” directed Dick. “I’m holding my revolver ready for use, and I’ll shoot, if necessary, the moment I can see what to shoot at.”

The Texan lost little time in producing a match, but when he attempted to strike it he failed, the brimstone breaking off. Three matches were used before one burned. The light flared up, Buckhart holding it above his head. Its glow fell on the old professor and the two boys, and simultaneously they made an amazing discovery.

They were alone in the boat!

Bayazid, the guide, had disappeared!

Dick had his revolver ready for action, and he was standing in a half-crouching position, peering over the head of Buckhart at the place in the boat lately occupied by the guide.

“He’s gug-gone!” gasped Zenas.

Brad dropped the match, and again they were buried in darkness which seemed to oppress them like an awful weight.

“Great catamounts!” said a voice that sounded strange and husky, but which Dick recognized as that of the Texan. “Where has he gone? What does it mean, partner?”

“It means that we are the victims of trickery of some sort,” answered Dick, speaking in a low tone.

“It means that we are deserted to perish on the bosom of this awful buried lake!” came from the professor, in something like a moan. “I am to blame! I brought you here!”

“But whatever could be the object?” questioned Brad, in a puzzled tone. “If it’s robbery – ”

“It’s a plot – a plot, boys! We are objects of suspicion. That agent of the secret police suspected us of something. In this awful city to be suspected is to be doomed.”

“I can’t realize it yet,” muttered Dick. “How could the guide get out of the boat?”

“I’ll strike another match, pard,” said the Texan. “Keep your gun ready for use.”

“There are other torches,” reminded Dick. “We placed them in the bottom of the boat. Find them, Brad, and light one.”

During the interval that followed the Texan was heard feeling about the bottom of the boat. After a time he confessed:

“I can’t seem to get my paws on them. I’ll have to use another match. The light will show us where they are.”

Another match was lighted, but, though it was held and moved about to illumine the bottom of the boat, not a torch was discovered. When they realized that the extinguished torches were gone they sat up and looked into one another’s eyes by the last gleams of the exhausted match, which Buckhart held until the blaze scorched his fingers.

For some moments silence followed.

Floating there on the motionless bosom of that black lake, no sound came down to them from the great city overhead. The stillness was appalling, yet all feared to speak, dreading the sound of their own voices.

Finally Dick asked:

“How many matches have you, Brad?”

“Not over four or five more.”

“And I have none. How about you, professor – have you any?”

“Not one,” was the despairing answer.

Suddenly Buckhart grated:

“I’d like to get my paws on the treacherous dog who deserted us in this fix! I’d certain fit him for a funeral! You hear me affirm!”

“I’m still unable to account for his action,” said Dick. “If his object is robbery, surely he has taken a strange way to go about it.”

“Perhaps he’s counting on frightening us good and plenty,” observed Brad. “Mebbe when he thinks we’re so frightened that we’ll be glad to cough up liberal he will appear and offer to conduct us back to the outer world.”

“Let’s call to him,” eagerly suggested the professor. Then he lifted his voice and called loudly.

When he had repeated the cry three times, they listened.

“Didn’t you hear a distant answer?” asked Dick.

“I judge whatever we heard was an echo,” said Brad.

After a time they lifted their voices in a united shout, and then listened to the mocking echoes which fled from pillar to pillar and died in the unknown distance.

“No use!” moaned Professor Gunn. “I am satisfied that we are doomed! We’ll never leave this place alive, and our fate will forever remain a mystery!”

“I’m sure that was no echo!” exclaimed Dick, as far away in the darkness they seemed to hear an answer to their repeated shouts. “Be still and let me shout.”

When he had lifted his strong, clear voice all hushed their breathing and listened.

There was a short interval, and then out of the black distance came a faint, far-away answer.

“Some one did shout, pard!” exclaimed the Texan. “It’s a dead-sure thing!”

Excitedly they all joined in the hail that followed. The answer was more distinct.

Dick had found an oar, and he slowly propelled the boat in the direction from which the answering cries seemed to come. Occasionally they bumped against the marble pillars, but these collisions did no damage.

Soon they could hear the answers to their cries and knew they were drawing nearer to the unknown person or persons who were thus responding.

Suddenly a tiny gleam of light showed amid the pillars at some distance.

“Looks like that’s a match, pard,” observed Buckhart. “I reckon I’ll strike one, too.”

He did so, but the other light disappeared even as he held his own above his head. Apparently his match was seen, for the voice of a man reached them, urging them to come in that direction.

By answering call for call they continued to draw nearer to the strangers, for they soon heard enough to satisfy them that at least two persons besides themselves were afloat on the bosom of that buried lake.

“One is a woman!” asserted Dick.

Lifting his voice, he asked:

“Who are you?”

“We are Americans. Who are yo’?”

“We are Americans, too.”

“What are yo’ doing here?”

“We are lost – deserted by our guide.”

“So are we. How many of yo’ are there?”

“Three. How many of you?”

“Two; and somebody shall suffer fo’ this outrage! Somebody shall pay the penalty fo’ it! I’ll have satisfaction as sho’ ’s my name is – ”

“Major Mowbry Fitts, of Natchez, Mississippi,” finished Dick.

“That’s my name, suh! But yo’, suh – why, is it possible that yo’ are – ”

“Professor Zenas Gunn, accompanied by Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart. Is Miss Ketchum, of Boston, with you?”

“I am here,” answered the well-known voice of Sarah Ann. “We have passed through a most awful and excruciating experience, the faintest remembrance of which will forever seem like a fearful nightmare. I am glad you have found us, for now you can assist us in getting out of this frightful place.”

“I am sure we would like to do so,” said Dick; “but, unfortunately, like yourselves, we do not know which way to turn. How did you get here?”

The major explained as the two boats bumped together, and floated thus. Like the professor and the boys, he and Miss Ketchum had visited the lake in company with a guide, who had vanished in a mysterious and unaccountable manner. They fancied they had been afloat for days on the bosom of the lake, and they were in a pitiful condition of collapse and fright, although the major had braced up wonderfully for a time.

“This seems to be the usual manner of treating visitors,” said Dick.

“We’ve used our last match,” said the major. “I lighted it a few minutes ago. We had been saving it. I am afraid we will never be able to escape. I have about given up hope.”

“It is the work of that terrible Turk who urged you into the duel with Professor Gunn, major,” said the woman from Boston. “He warned us to leave Constantinople, but we refused to go, and he told us we would disappear mysteriously.”

“Are you speaking of Aziz Achmet?” asked Dick.

“That is what he calls himself.”

“Then you have seen him since the morning of the duel?”

“Seen him!” indignantly exclaimed the major. “We have seen him everywhere, suh. He has followed us and watched us wherever we went. We couldn’t make a move that he wouldn’t turn up. Twice he told us that we must leave the city and the country.”

“I wish now,” confessed Miss Ketchum, “that we had obeyed him. Don’t you, major?”

“Well,” answered the little man, with a touch of reluctance in his voice, “I must confess, madam, that I believe it would have been much better fo’ us if we had obeyed.”

Barely were these words spoken when, in the pall of darkness near by, a voice demanded:

“Are you ready to depart now? Will you depart at once? Do you, one and all, swear by your God that you will lose no time about going?”.

Needless to say, the sound of that voice affected them all much like a sudden clap of thunder on a clear and sunny day. The woman gave a little scream, the major uttered a smothered oath, the professor gasped for breath, while both Dick and Brad sat bolt upright, their nerves tense.

“Answer at once!” commanded the unseen speaker. “It is your only hope of escaping. Among the Armenians we have enough so-called missionaries, and, therefore, the woman from Boston is not wanted. In the other boat are the old man and the boys against whom the secret police have been warned. It will be easy to cause all of you to vanish from the face of the earth; yet if you pledge yourselves to leave Turkey, you shall be spared.”

“I tell you one thing,” spluttered Zenas Gunn eagerly, “I’ve seen all of Turkey I care to see, and I’ll give you my pledge to leave within twenty-four hours, taking the boys with me.”

“I’ll go – oh, I’ll go!” promised Miss Ketchum.

“And if she goes,” said Major Fitts, “I shall accompany her.”

“Swear it!”

The trio were willing enough to do so.

A few moments later a light gleamed a short distance away, and then three torches were lighted. Within twenty feet of them was another and larger boat, containing four persons, three of whom were guides. The fourth was Aziz Achmet. One of the guides was Bayazid, who grinned at the professor and the boys, as if he thought the whole thing a fine joke. Another was the guide who had accompanied the major and the woman from Boston.

Achmet did not touch an oar. He sat in dignified silence as his companions slowly brought the boat close to the others.

“Mr. Achmet,” said Dick, “although we dislike to leave Constantinople under compulsion, Professor Gunn has given his pledge, and we shall stand by it. There is one thing, however, that we would like to have explained. How did our guide disappear in such a mysterious manner?”

Achmet shrugged his shoulders a bit. At first he seemed disinclined to answer, but apparently he suddenly decided to do so.

“It was very simple, boy,” he said. “Your guide stepped from your boat into this one, which he had seen floating in the shadow of a pillar. I was in this boat, with these other guides, and I gave him a signal that he understood. Immediately he extinguished the torch. That threw you into confusion. This boat silently approached, and Bayazid stepped into it. In the same manner Yapouly left the other boat.”

“Thank you,” said Dick. “It was altogether too easy!”

“A heap!” growled Buckhart.

CHAPTER VIII – ON THE WAY TO DAMASCUS

They succeeded in securing passage on a steamer that left the port the following day. Major Fitts and Miss Ketchum left by the same steamer.

“I hope yo’ will congratulate me, professor,” said the major, as proud as a peacock. “Miss Ketchum has consented to become Mrs. Fitts as soon as we reach the United States. I’m sorry fo’ yo’, suh; but yo’ never really had a show, suh.”

“That’s right, major,” smiled Dick. “He didn’t have a show, because he is already – ”

“Don’t you dare tell I’m married!” hissed Zenas, in the boy’s ear.

“He is all ready to carry out his plan to penetrate the wilds of Africa, where it would be impossible for him to take a bride, and he could not bear to be parted from one so young and charming as Miss Ketchum, were he to have the good fortune to capture her.”

“Saved your life, you rascal!” whispered Zenas, and then hastened to bow low to the coy and confused lady from Boston.

At Beirut the party split up, the professor and the boys going to Damascus, a distance of ninety-one miles, which was covered by an excellent narrow-gauge railroad, built by Swiss engineers.

“We’re off, boys!” cheerfully exclaimed the professor, as the train finally started. “We’ll soon be in the oldest city in the world.”

“Do you mean Damascus, professor?” inquired Dick.

“Of course I mean Damascus! We’re not bound for any other place, are we? Did you think I meant New York? Did you fancy I was speaking of Hoboken? Hum! Haw!”

“But there is no absolute proof that Damascus is the oldest city in the world. There may be older cities in China or India.”

“There may be,” admitted the old pedagogue; “but we do not know about them. At least, Damascus is the oldest city we know anything about.”

“That is quite true. If you had said that – ”

“Now look here, Richard, you are inclined to be altogether too wise. You keep yourself too well posted about the countries and places we visit, and thus you deprive me of the privilege of imparting information to you. It isn’t right. You make me feel that I am not earning my stipend as your guardian and tutor during this trip round the world. You place me in an embarrassing position. I wish you would feign ignorance, if you cannot do anything else.”

Dick laughed.

“All right, professor; I’ll try to reform. But it was your advice to us that we should post ourselves in advance on each place we visited, and I’ve been obeying instructions, that’s all.”

“Haw! Hum! You’re inclined to be too obedient – altogether too obedient. Now here is Bradley – I haven’t observed that he has wasted much time reading up about different countries and cities.”

“Sure not,” admitted the Texan. “It’s a heap too much trouble, for I know I’ll hear about the places from you and Dick when we hit ’em. This yere country sort of looks familiar.”

“It does,” nodded Dick. “To me it looks like Southern Colorado or Northern New Mexico. It’s a land of irrigation. The mountains, the plains, the foliage, the mud houses, everything but the people, remind me of that portion of our own country.”

“Quite true,” agreed Zenas Gunn; “although the fertile spots here have all been taken up and cultivated. For instance, look there, boys – look at that mountainside.”

Gazing from the window as the train sped along, they could see the side of a mountain walled up in terraces like gigantic stairways, to prevent the soil from being washed away by the rainfalls. These terraces were planted with grapes, figs, olive and mulberry trees. On many of these terraces laborers were at work propping up strange-looking trunks, which were six or seven feet high. In places these trunks could be seen reclining in rows on the ground, looking strangely like sleeping soldiers.

“Those are grapevines,” exclaimed the professor. “In the fall they cut them down to that height and lay them flat on the ground, as you see them. They are now beginning to prop them up. They will be irrigated and dressed, and then new branches will shoot out in all directions and cover the soil and bear fruit.”

As the train wound in and out of the gorges, clinging to the mountainsides, they beheld many strange and interesting things. Laborers were setting out mulberry trees in long trenches. Other laborers were digging the trenches, three men working a single shovel. One of the men manipulated the shovel, holding the handle and driving it down into the soil. Two others lifted it out with its load, doing so by pulling at ropes attached to the shovel just above the blade. They all worked together with astonishing ease and skill. Great hedges of cactus stretched along the railroad in many places. They gazed with interest at the old-fashioned irrigating canals. They beheld men plowing with the same sort of crooked stick that was used for that purpose in Bible times. But there were no farmhouses scattered over the country, for the people still lived in villages, as they did in former days, when it was necessary for neighbors to band together for protection.

For a great portion of the way the railroad followed the old caravan trail, and all along this trail were scattered trains of camels and donkeys, loaded with all kinds of goods, such as silk, cotton, grain, machinery, poplar trees, fuel, and other things. Petroleum, however, seemed to form the greater portion of many a cargo.

The sun shone from a cloudless sky.

Brad Buckhart was strangely silent. He gazed out of the window in an abstracted manner, paying very little attention to what the professor and Dick were saying.

Finally Dick began to joke him about his unusual manner.

“Don’t worry, Brad,” he laughed. “We’ll overtake her soon. We may find her in Damascus.”

“Her?” grunted the Texan.

“Yes.”

“Why, who – ”

“Nadia Budthorne, of course. Her last letter told you she would visit Damascus and then proceed to Jerusalem, in company with her brother. You can’t fool me, old man. You have been counting on overtaking her somewhere in the Holy Land. Don’t deny it.”

“All right,” said Buckhart, his face flushed, but his manner a bit defiant; “I won’t deny it, Mr. Smarty. You sure have hit it all right. I – ”

At this moment the whistle of the locomotive shrieked a wild alarm and the brakes were applied violently. Something was wrong. The train came to a stop.

And just outside the window of the compartment occupied by the old professor and two boys a dead camel lay stretched on the ground, blood flowing from several horrible wounds. The animal’s pack was broken open and the goods scattered in all directions.

Not ten feet from the camel lay a gorgeously dressed, black-bearded Arab, likewise apparently dead.

“Whoop!” cried Buckhart. “There certain have been some doings here! I opine the camel tried to butt the train off the track, somewhat to the grief of Mr. Camel.”

Men now came running toward the spot, all greatly excited. They were principally camel drivers and like men from a caravan. They gathered about the prostrate Arab and made a great demonstration. Their gestures toward the train were very threatening.

One of the guards flung open the door of the compartment occupied by our friends.

“Is there a doctor here?” he asked anxiously. “A serious accident has happened.”

In a moment Dick Merriwell sprang out, followed by Brad. They did not wait to enter into conversation with the guard, but started toward the dead camel and the motionless Arab.

Others from the train were doing the same thing, and the boys learned from fragments of conversation that the Arab had been struck by the engine while endeavoring to drive from the track the camel that had strayed onto the railroad and obstinately refused to budge.

At that point the train came round a sharp curve, and the engineer was unable to see either camel or man until right upon them.

Later the boys learned that the camel was loaded with certain articles of great importance, which had led the Arab to imperil his life in the effort to drive the beast from the track.

“He seems to be some sort of high mogul in his tribe,” observed Buckhart, as he and Dick paused and surveyed the injured man.

“He is a sheik of great power and influence,” explained a man standing near. “That is why the railroad people are so concerned. If he were an ordinary camel driver or donkey man, they wouldn’t stop a minute to bother over him.”

“I wonder if he is really dead?” muttered Dick, stepping forward.

In a moment he was kneeling beside the unconscious man. Deftly he began to make an examination, seeking for broken bones.

A number of Arabs were about, their heads tied up and their feet and legs bare, as is their custom in all sorts of weather. One of these objected when Dick began the examination, but a husky fellow prevented the chap from attacking the American boy.

“I don’t believe he is dead,” declared Dick. “Doesn’t seem to have any broken bones. He’s stunned – just has the breath knocked out of him. Give me a hand, Brad; let’s see if we can’t revive him.”

The Texan responded promptly.

“What do you want me to do, pard?” he inquired.

“We’ll try artificial respiration,” said Merriwell. “You work his lungs while I work his arms.”

What followed caused the wildest excitement among the watching Arabs, for Buckhart knelt astride the body of the old sheik and began a regular and steady pumplike movement on the lower part of his breast, while Dick seized the man’s arms, pulled them at full length above the Arab’s head, then bent them back suddenly and pressed them to his sides. The two boys worked together in perfect unison.

Some of the Arabs cried out that the infidels were defiling the dead. Two or three of them drew weapons and would have rushed on the boys; but the same husky fellow, who had checked them before now, produced a pistol and averred that he would “blow daylight” through the whole of them if they did not keep still.

In this manner they were temporarily checked, and that brief check gave Merriwell time enough to accomplish his purpose.

A low moan and a convulsive gasp came from the lips of the man over which the boys were working. Signs of returning consciousness were pronounced. His breast heaved. The boys ceased their work. For he breathed.

An Englishman held out a flask of whisky.

“Give him a swallow of this,” he advised.

Dick pushed it away.

“Water,” he called. “That will be better for him.”

“Allah! Allah!” cried the astounded Arabs. “The infidels are magicians! They have restored the dead to life! Ras al Had lives again!”

Some of them prostrated themselves in the dust. Others hastened to bring water.

Dick took a canteen and turned a little of the liquid between the lips of the injured man. He swallowed it greedily, coughed a little, and then lay gazing in a puzzled manner at the face of the American boy.

Finally, in very good English, he asked what had happened. His voice was weak and husky, yet his words were plain.

“You were struck by the train,” explained Merriwell. “Your camel was killed, and you seemed to be dead; but I think you are all right now.”

“For which you may thank this boy and his friend here,” said the husky chap, who had protected the boys. “To all appearances, you were as dead as old Mohammed; but they pumped the breath back into you in a hurry.”

Several of the Arabs now brought cushions, which were placed beneath the head and shoulders of the sheik. One of them spoke to him hurriedly in a low tone, and seemed telling him all about what had taken place. When this man had finished speaking the sheik made a gesture with his hand and bade him retire.

He then called for Dick.

“Be careful, Richard,” cautioned Professor Gunn. “These men are treacherous. There’s no telling what he means to do.”

Dick laughed and stepped nearer to the sheik.

“Boy,” said the old Arab, “they tell me that I was dead, and by your infidel magic you brought life back into my body.”

“You were unconscious, that was all. The shock had driven the breath from your body, and we simply revived the action of your lungs.”

“Had you not done so – ”

“You sure would have croaked for fair,” put in Buckhart.

“What you ask of me, if it is in my power, I will give,” declared the sheik. “That is the word of Ras al Had, and, though no pledge to an infidel is binding, may the wrath of Allah fall on me if I break this one. Speak.”

“If you think I did it for pay of any sort, you are mistaken,” said the young American, with a touch of resentment. “You can’t reward me for a thing like that.”

“Then if ever you are in need or in danger, and I can be of service, the sword and the life of Ras al Had shall be at your command. I swear this by the beard of the Prophet!”

“All aboard!” shouted a voice. “Train’s going to start.”

There was a general rush for the cars.

CHAPTER IX – THE STRUGGLE AT THE STATION

“Well, that certain was an adventure, all right,” laughed Brad, when they were again seated in their compartment and the train was moving.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with you boys!” exclaimed Professor Gunn, with an air of exasperation. “You keep me on pins and needles all the time. I surely thought those Arabs would slice you up when they saw you go after the old sheik. They thought you were defiling the dead.”

“But the old boy was grateful when he learned that we had pumped the breath back into him,” said Dick.

“He pretended to be,” nodded the professor; “but that is no sign.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a Mohammedan, and they think it no harm to do anything to an infidel. They may deceive him, lie to him, steal from him, even kill him, without committing a sin. Richard, do not take any stock in the words of that old rascal.”

“I don’t have to,” said young Merriwell; “for it is not likely I’ll ever see him again. All the same, I seemed to feel that he was sincere when he expressed his gratitude.”

“It’s evident he’s a gent of some authority in his tribe,” put in Brad. “All the rest of his particular bunch seemed to stand in awe of him a plenty.”

Their interest in the strange country, together with their recent adventure, gave them food enough for conversation, and the journey was not nearly as long as they had expected it would seem.

At last, as the train approached Damascus, they found themselves in a narrow valley that was almost a gorge. Through this valley a clear stream rushed and roared over an exceedingly rocky bed. This stream drove a number of mills, the entrances to which were always surrounded by donkeys and camels, these animals having brought little loads of grain to the mills to be ground.

On the outskirts of the city they passed a group of Turkish villas, which looked very picturesque and attractive. These, they were told, were occupied by exiled officers of the Turkish government, who had committed offenses of some sort or had excited the distrust of the sultan. Instead of ordering them beheaded, their imperial master had sent them to Damascus, where they could be closely guarded.

Finally the train drew into the station at Damascus.

“Say, just have a look!” cried Brad. “I opine the whole town has turned out to meet us.”

There was a great crowd at the station – Arabs, Assyrians, Armenians, Turks, Jews, Greeks, Egyptians, and people from many desert tribes. They were all in a great tumult and uproar. A fence prevented them from crowding close to the track, but behind this fence they were packed thick as sardines in a box, staring, talking, pushing, gesticulating, and making a great hubbub.

“I wonder if this is the usual thing,” said Dick. “Perhaps some noted person is on this train.”

“Not likely that has brought them here,” declared the professor. “The arrival of a train is an event, and probably all the idle men in town rush to the station to see it come in.”

Their compartment door was flung open.

With alacrity the two boys descended to the platform.

“There they are!” cried a familiar voice that gave Buckhart a thrill.

“Oh, Dick! Hey, Brad!” called another voice.

Dick located the person who called to him. He grasped Buckhart’s arm and pointed.

“There they are – Budthorne and his sister!” he exclaimed.

In the midst of the crowd beyond the fence, being jostled about by the swaying mob, were Dunbar Budthorne and Nadia, whom they had last seen in Italy.

Professor Gunn was calling to the boys.

“Hold on, you kittenish young rascals!” he croaked. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Help look after this baggage.”

But the professor was forgotten in the excitement of what followed. Dick saw the wild crowd separate Dunbar Budthorne and his sister. He saw the two forced apart. Nadia was whirled aside. Then two men grasped her, one placing a dusky hand over her mouth to prevent her from shouting, while she was swept off her feet and literally borne away.

Dick shouted to Brad. He made a rush for the fence. Up into the air he sailed in a great leap that carried him over the obstruction and into the midst of the crowd.

The American boy seemed like an infuriated animal, for he hurled people to the right and left like one possessing the strength of a giant. He ripped a pathway through that crowd in a most amazing manner.

Nadia Budthorne was struggling vainly with her captors, who were on the point of lifting her into a carriage, when the American boy reached them.

Dick struck one man a blow that caused him to release the girl instantly.

But another swarthy fellow appeared and sought to seize the boy, while still one held fast to the girl.

Nadia, however, managed to get her mouth clear of the smothering hand that had been pressed over it.

She uttered a scream.

That cry was answered by a roar in the voice of Brad Buckhart, who was fighting his way through the crowd.

As the second ruffian reached for him, Dick managed by an agile twist and dodge to escape the fellow’s hand. Then he tripped the man and went at the one who was seeking to force Nadia into the carriage.

“Drop her, you cur!” he palpitated.

This fellow, who was the biggest one of the trio, flung the girl into the arms of yet another, then whirled on Dick, whipping out a knife.

The giant made a quick, forward, ripping stroke with the knife.

Again Merriwell’s quickness on his feet saved him, for he squirmed aside so that the blade of the knife simply pierced the loose part of his coat that swung from him when he made that rapid movement.

The next instant Dick seized the dark man’s hand with his left hand, held it firm, struck sharply with the lower edge of his right hand, which landed on the other’s wrist.

That man’s wrist was broken as if it had been a pipestem, and the knife fell to the ground.

Dick had broken it by a trick, knowing just exactly how to accomplish the feat.

A howl rose from the wretch, but the boy gave him no further attention.

He turned to look for Nadia.

Fortunately Brad Buckhart had reached the girl and in an encounter of this sort the Texan was second only to Dick Merriwell. In fact, Brad fought with more slashing fury than did Dick, but not with the same quick wit and instant decision on the right course to pursue.

The Texan had proved assistance enough, however, for he had rescued Nadia and knocked down the man who was seeking to force her into the carriage. The latter fell under the feet of the horses. The animals reared and trampled on him. He screamed, and the horses plunged away, the black driver apparently letting them go, instead of seeking to stop them.

The moment the carriage was gone the men who had attacked Nadia seemed to be swallowed by the crowd that surged round. The one with the broken wrist vanished, and even the fellow who had been trampled by the horse could not be found. It was easy for the other two to disappear in the crowd, for any one of a hundred men there might have been taken for either of them.

Dunbar Budthorne, pale and shaking with excitement, finally reached his sister, finding her clinging to Brad, who was supporting her with one arm.

Dick was on the other side of Nadia.

“Sister!” exclaimed Dunbar huskily; “have those brutes – ”

“I’m all right, brother,” she hastened to declare. “They did handle me roughly, but – ”

“The brutes!” he grated. “Is there no protection for respectable travelers in this wretched city? This is the third offense, and this was more outrageous than the others. I couldn’t do a thing. Before I realized it the crowd had forced us apart.”

“It’s fortunate Dick and Brad were able to reach me,” she declared. “I was helpless in the hands of those black ruffians. I believe they would have forced me into that carriage and carried me off before all this crowd only for the boys.”

Budthorne now shook hands with the boys, expressing his thanks and gratitude.

Buckhart was highly indignant over what had occurred, and he wanted to know why Dunbar had not appealed to the authorities for protection. Budthorne explained that he had appealed, but that foreigners were liable to insult anywhere in Damascus, and that often they were roughly treated.

This was true. The Moslems of that city are proud, but illiterate. They have come to know of the advancement of other peoples whom they regard as inferior, and they resent it. For four thousand years Damascus occupied an important position in the world, but now it is a place of very little importance, much to the indignation of its citizens.

But Budthorne knew the treatment accorded himself and his sister did not arise wholly from the fact that they were foreigners. There was another reason, which he explained later.

Professor Gunn came fluttering through the crowd, in a great state of agitation.

“Bless my soul! bless my soul!” he stammered. “This is dreadful! Is this thing going to continue wherever we go? If so, I’ll just have to take these boys back home. It’s scandalous! My nerves are completely upset!”

“Where is our baggage?” asked Dick.

“I had to leave it.”

“Unguarded?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we’ll be lucky if we ever see it again. Brad, stay with Nadia and Dunbar, while I go with the professor to look after that baggage.”

Fortunately not a piece of the baggage had been stolen. Dick was clear-headed, and he soon learned what to do with it, although Zenas rendered absolutely no assistance. There was a German hotel in the city, and a representative of the house took charge of all the luggage after it was pointed out, assuring them that it would be taken to the hotel without delay. Another man escorted our friends through the crowd to a carriage that ran to the hotel.

Once in the carriage they breathed easier. Away they were whirled through the narrow streets of the strange, old city, leaving the station and the motley crowd behind.

The houses of Damascus are mainly of sun-dried clay with flat roofs, surrounded by low copings. This roof serves for many purposes. Often it is used as a dining room, while during the hot summer months it serves as a bedroom at night. On warm evenings people sit on the housetops to enjoy the air. When the muezzin appears on the balcony of a minaret hundreds upon hundreds of faithful Moslems mount to their housetops and go through the gymnastic contortions of Mohammedan worship.

But not all the buildings of Damascus are low and flat-roofed. There are some towers, and temples, and minarets, besides a few modern buildings, with roofs of bright corrugated iron, which glisten in the sunshine.

Compared with most American cities, Damascus lacks trees and foliage. Compared with the desert surrounding it, however, it is a perfect bower of shade and rest.

A look of disappointment crept over the face of Brad Buckhart as he gazed around him on the way from the station to the hotel.

“I opine this is the worst part of Damascus?” he observed.

“On the contrary,” said Dunbar Budthorne, “it is far from being the worst part. This is quite respectable – almost swell, to use a vulgar word.”

“Well, I certain am a plenty disappointed,” muttered the Texan. “She isn’t just as I expected her to be.”

Dick questioned Dunbar about the annoyance to which he and Nadia had been subjected since arriving in the city.

“I may as well tell the cause of it,” said Budthorne, although Nadia showed confusion and shook her head warningly. “It’s all right, sister. You were not to blame.”

Brad wondered at her confusion and detected her in the act of casting a glance of apprehension toward him.

“On the steamer coming from Smyrna to Beirut,” said Dunbar, “we chanced to meet a very handsome and distinguished-appearing Turkish gentleman, who was called Hafsa Pasha. Although scarcely more than thirty years of age, he had traveled a great deal and had spent two years in the United States. He was educated, cultured, refined in manner, and a splendid traveling companion. Both Nadia and myself enjoyed his company very much. He told us he was bound for Damascus on business that concerned the Turkish government. He had been here before, and, therefore, he was able to give us much information of value and save us many petty annoyances.

“I confess that we both became exceedingly interested in this man. He was a scholar and could quote Shakespeare and Burns – even Longfellow! I think he had read Byron, but he confessed a natural prejudice for the great English poet who became the idol of Greece.

“At first neither Nadia nor I saw anything offensive in his manners. True, he was inclined to quote Burns to Nadia whenever he could find the opportunity, but she thought nothing of that until he made love to her pointblank.”

Buckhart gurgled a little deep down in his throat.

“Then,” continued Budthorne, “Nadia began to grow alarmed. She tried to avoid him, but every way she turned he seemed to bob up before her. She tried to keep him at a distance without offending him. Before we reached Beirut he proposed outright.”

Again Buckhart gurgled.

“He would not take no for an answer. In every way possible he sought to induce her to consider his proposal. At last he seemed to lose control of himself. In an hour we would be in Beirut. He found her alone on the after deck. I came up just in time to see him catch her in his arms and try to kiss her. We had an encounter, and I confess that he got rather the best of it, although I hit him in the face. That blow seemed to arouse a sleeping savage in him, for he cursed me and called me a dog of an infidel, swearing he would make me weep drops of blood for that insult.

“Well, we hastened out of Beirut and away to Damascus; but the day after we reached this city Hafsa Pasha appeared. His manner seemed again altered, and he was very polite and humble. He entreated pardon and begged to have an interview with Nadia. She declined to see him. Before he left, he laughingly told me that she would have to see him before she could get out of this city.

“That was our first annoyance in Damascus. The following day we were shopping in the bazaars when suddenly Hafsa Pasha and a number of men surrounded us. I was jostled aside. Hafsa Pasha talked to Nadia like a man deranged. He tried to plead with her, he offered her wealth and position, and then he threatened. I don’t know what might have happened, but a party of English tourists came along and I appealed to them. There came near being a free fight in that bazaar, but the Turk and his followers finally retired and the Englishmen escorted us back to the hotel.

“Then came the letter that stated you would arrive in a day or two. We have been watching the trains since then, and that is how we happened to be at the station to-day. You know what happened. I am satisfied that Hafsa Pasha was the instigator of this assault upon us. It seems now that he actually contemplates carrying Nadia off by force. We must get out of Damascus right away, or I fear he will find a way to accomplish his evil purpose.”

CHAPTER X – THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

Brad Buckhart was striding savagely up and down the room, taken by himself and Dick, at the hotel. There was a black look on his strong face and his square jaw was set.

“I suppose you’ll have to walk it off old man,” said Dick; “but it seems to me you are permitting yourself to become altogether too wrought up.”

The Texan stopped, his feet wide apart and his hands on his hips.

“I certain can’t help being some wrought up, partner,” he said. “I reckon you would be in my place.”

“Without doubt. But we are here now, and we’ll look after Nadia. Hafsa Pasha’s little scheme of abduction won’t go.”

“Sure not; but it wasn’t that I was thinking of.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No.”

“Well, then – ”

“Budthorne let the cat out of the bag.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He didn’t make a clean breast of it when he first told the story. I’ve been talking with him since we arrived here at the hotel. I trapped him by asking questions.”

“Why, what do you mean by saying you trapped him?”

“Exactly that, pard. You know a funny thing has been running in my head ever since I trapped him. It’s a toast I heard once. This is it:

 

“‘Here is to the love that lies

In a woman’s eyes.

Yes, it lies and lies,

And keeps on lying.’”

 

Dick rose instantly and placed a hand on his chum’s shoulder.

“Why, Brad!” he exclaimed, “I never knew you to talk so queerly. What did Budthorne tell you that set you into such a mood?”

“You’re my friend. I wouldn’t talk of it to any one else. You know I was smitten on Nadia Budthorne.”

“Well?”

“Of course I was a chump to care for her.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Yes, I was. I’m a plain sort of chap, although I’m not half as wild and woolly as I pretend to be.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, old man. I’ve been able to see under the surface all along. I think I understand you.”

“You do, Dick, and you’re the only one. That’s why I swear by you. That’s why I’m ready to back you up in anything you do. There is a bond of sympathy between us.”

The Texan had dropped his swagger and his Western style of speech. For the time being his mannerisms fell from him like a discarded garment.

“Go ahead and tell me what it was that Budthorne said.”

“Why, he let it slip that both he and Nadia were greatly interested in this fine Turkish gentleman and that he encouraged her interest in him. In short, she carried on a mild flirtation with Hafsa Pasha, who rather dazzled her. Of course, I have no claim on her, and I’m too young to think of such a thing seriously. But she’s seventeen, and lots of girls get married at that age. In this country they marry at ten and eleven.”

“Great Scott! You don’t fancy she actually seriously considered marrying the Turk?”

“Why, he’s a very cultured gentleman. Budthorne said so. He is educated, and he has traveled extensively. Besides that, he is in the very prime of life. Such a man might dazzle the eyes of a young girl. There would be something romantic in a flirtation with him. She would be likely to dream of the splendor and power that would come to her as the wife of such a man. Don’t call me a fool, Dick! I know! I know!”

“If you’re not foolish, then you are crazy!”

“Only jealous, Dick. I confess it – I’m jealous! Never felt this way before. I have an awful feeling down here inside of me. I’d like to kill somebody!”

“But she threw Hafsa Pasha down, old man.”

“After Budthorne was told by the captain of the ship that Hafsa Pasha had a harem in Damascus.”

Merriwell gave a great start.

“Is that true?” he demanded.

“Budthorne confessed it.”

“Budthorne’s a fool!”

“Oh, we both knew all the time that he was weak. I think he encouraged Nadia in her flirtation with the Turk until he obtained that information from the captain. Then he got his eyes open and forbade her to have anything to do with the man.”

“Nadia is young, Brad. Her ideas are not formed yet. You mustn’t be too hard on her. Even if she did flirt with the Turk a little, perhaps she was never serious.”

“Perhaps not, but still I can’t help thinking she was. Of course you may say she had a right to flirt mildly with the man. Perhaps she did. Still I had exalted her in my own mind. I regarded her as staunch and true. I thought her far superior to the foolish, frivolous modern girl. She knew how much I thought of her, and she pretended to care for me. But, like all of her sex, out of sight, out of mind. I was far away. Hafsa Pasha, the handsome Turk, was near. He quoted poetry to her. She listened and was enchanted. She forgot me. They all do. Dick, you’re the only human being I ever knew who was staunch as the rock-ribbed hills. You never change, no matter what happens. All others are weak and vacillating. My confidence in human nature is pretty well shattered.”

“Oh, rats!” cried Dick. “Don’t get cynical, Brad! It doesn’t become you at all. You’re naturally the most optimistical chap in the world.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” harshly demanded the Texan. “Think I can ever feel the same toward that girl? Not much! If she hadn’t learned that her old Turk was married, I’d be in the soup now. He’s married, and so I’m good enough for her until she finds some chap she likes better. I tell you it’s all off, Dick! I throw up the sponge! I quit!”

“I think this climate has got your liver out of condition,” said Merriwell. “What you need is a tonic. You’ll feel differently about this to-morrow.”

“Not to-morrow, nor the next day, nor ever!” declared Brad. “Miss Budthorne will find that I’m no chump to play second fiddle. Don’t you dare laugh at me, Richard Merriwell! I’m in deadly earnest!”

Dick did not laugh then, but he found an opportunity when Buckhart was not present.

However, Buckhart was far more serious than his comrade imagined.

During the remainder of that day Brad wore a heavy grouch. He kept much by himself and avoided Nadia, much to her perplexity. Finally her pride was touched, and she made no further effort to speak with him or to see him.

Never had Dick seen his friend in such a mood. In vain he tried to jolly the Texan and cheer him up. A profound cloud of gloom overhung the sturdy chap from the Rio Pecos country.

All were more or less weary, and so they willingly rested through the day.

When evening came Dunbar Budthorne proposed that they should attend the one theatre of the city, which was located on the principal square, within a short distance of the hotel.

“What sort of a performance is given there?” questioned Dick.

“Oh, vaudeville, tumbling, fencing, juggling, acrobatic stunts, and so forth. It’s rather dull as a performance, but it will serve to pass the time away.”

“Is it a suitable place for your sister to visit?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I hear the men smoke until you may cut the atmosphere into chunks with a knife. The theatre is a rickety old shanty, and none too clean. We might leave Nadia here in the hotel.”

“Don’t do that!” she entreated. “Don’t leave me alone in this city. I’m afraid to be left alone, after what has happened.”

“Hum! ha!” coughed Professor Gunn. “I think we will omit the theatre. Evidently it is a low resort. I decline to permit the boys to visit it.”

And, although they chaffed him about it, the old man was rigid in his decision, which finally settled it, and they did not attend the theatre in Damascus.

The following morning, however, they prepared to start out to look the city over. When they were ready to leave the hotel it was found that Buckhart had vanished.

On inquiry they learned that he had set out by himself, leaving word for them not to bother about him.

Nadia pouted and looked greatly disappointed.

“What is the matter with him?” she asked. “I think he’s just as mean as can be! What makes him act so queer?”

She pinned Dick down and put the question to him, not a little to his dismay. He could not tell the truth, and he would not lie.

“I’ll have to let him explain his own actions,” he said, seeking to find a loophole of escape.

“But you know why he is so peculiar – I know you do! You can’t deny it!”

“I won’t try.”

“Then you must tell me. I insist on it.”

“Please don’t, Nadia! It will be all right in time, but I prefer to let him explain.”

After a while he induced her to drop the subject temporarily although he knew she would return to it at the first opportunity and seek, with all the intensity of her feminine curiosity, than which there is nothing more acute and prying, to compel him to divulge the truth.

Arouse the curiosity of a girl and she will strain every nerve to learn a secret, even though she knows the knowledge will make her most miserable. The only way to keep a secret from a girl is not to let her suspect a secret exists.

They left the hotel and proceeded to the public square, which is located near the centre of the city. This square proved to be a large, open place, where at that hour throngs of people of all nationalities and colors were assembling. The square was a sort of public market. In the centre was a fountain and monument.

All around the sides of the square were the little booths and stands of itinerant merchants, the most of them with their goods spread out on the ground before them, and arranged in the most inviting manner their ingenuity could devise.

There were many professional letter writers, each one sitting at a desk under awnings of canvas or straw. They did not sit on chairs, but flat on the ground, with their legs crossed. They were supplied with wooden or reed pens. Their ink they carried in inkhorns.

Many of these letter writers were busy. Some were writing business communications, some were drawing up contracts or making out legal papers, while one, with a veiled woman sitting near him, was writing a love letter, recording the words whispered to him by the lips hidden behind the veil.

Within the square were carts, camels, saddle horses, carriages, and donkeys, all there to be hired.

Men were wandering about, sometimes in pairs and holding hands. This, Budthorne explained, was a common sight, it being an evidence of affection that was thought quite natural in Damascus.

Adjoining the square were several coffee shops, where Turkish men could be seen sitting round, smoking hookahs, sipping coffee, and playing checkers, chess, dominoes, and so forth. They wore long, calico gowns, and their heads were swathed in turbans.

“Look here,” said Dick, motioning toward some passing camels. “See how oddly their owners decorate the beasts. They have strings of blue beads round their necks.”

“You’ll see that everywhere, on camels, horses, and donkeys,” declared Budthorne. “Those strings of beads are charms to ward off the influence of the evil eye.”

A strange sound smote their ears. It came from the open door of a little shop, and it made them shiver, for it was a sort of doleful wail and chant combined.

“Some one must be dying in there!” exclaimed Dick.

They looked in at the door. A young man was sitting cross-legged on the floor, busy at some sort of work.

He was singing!

Despite the distressing sounds he was emitting, this young man was very happy.

He was singing a love song!

The sound of clanging, clanking, and banging, as of many persons pounding tin pans and washboilers, came to their ears. A few moments later they found themselves at the beginning of the bazaars of the city. The sounds they had heard came from the coppersmith’s street, where hundreds of skillful laborers were at work on brass, beating and molding it in to all sorts of shapes. They were making bowls, trays, and dishes, such as may be seen on sale in any genuine Oriental store.

It was very interesting to watch these laborers, and their skill was something to marvel at.

They wandered on through bazaar after bazaar, their interest and wonderment increasing.

One bazaar was filled with pipes and smoking paraphernalia of every description. There were pipes mounted with gold and silver, and some were decorated with precious stones.

Then came the leather shops, the cloth store, the curio shops, the place of odd and ancient weapons, the goldsmith’s bazaar, and, most fascinating of all, the Street of the Greeks. In the latter place were to be seen all sorts of Oriental articles and ornaments, embroideries, rugs, carpets, silks, clothing, armors, weapons, pipes, gems, coins, fezzes.

They were besieged by Armenians, Greeks, and Jews, all anxious and eager to sell them goods. Only the Turks sat back in dignified silence and declined to solicit trade. Some of the dealers were offensive in their insistence. They pulled Nadia and held articles before her for inspection, dilating on the merits of the goods. They named prices and then asked for offers.

Budthorne became confused and Professor Gunn grew angry. Dick was compelled to look after Nadia. She clung to his arm.

In this manner they came face to face with Brad Buckhart, who was wandering through the bazaars alone.

Nadia gave a little cry.

“There’s Brad!”

He turned like a flash and disappeared amid a mass of people who were crowding before one of the booths.

“Oh, Brad!” called Dick.

“Why, what made him do that?” exclaimed the girl, in dismay.

Merriwell was provoked.

“Come!” he urged. “He can’t get away. We’ll find him.”

They hurried after the Texan. Dick caught a glimpse of him leaving the bazaars. Nadia was still clinging to Dick’s arm.

At the beginning of a narrow street Buckhart paused and glanced back, then he turned and disappeared down the street.

Never had Dick known his friend to behave in such a perplexing manner.

“I’ll shake some of the foolishness out of him if I ever get my hands on him,” Merriwell mentally vowed.

Thinking they would have no trouble in returning to the bazaars and finding the professor and Dunbar, they hastened down the narrow street.

Turning a corner, they came against a caravan of loaded camels in a most sudden and startling manner. It was necessary to hug the wall in order to let the animals and their drivers pass.

There were many dogs in the streets. These animals prowled about or slept serenely beneath the feet of pedestrians, who were careful to step over them or to turn out and go round without disturbing them.

As in Constantinople, the dogs were the street cleaners, and no one harmed them.

After following the crooked street some distance and failing to again catch a glimpse of Buckhart, Dick decided they had better turn back.

“I don’t know how we could have missed him,” he said.

“He may have turned onto another street.”

“I saw no other street.”

“I did.”

Retracing their steps, they came upon a street that was like a choked alley. Nadia believed they could return to the bazaars more quickly by taking it.

But when they had followed it into still another street, and turned from this into yet another, she confessed that she was bewildered and knew not which course should be pursued.

Then Dick set out to make his way back as quickly as possible, the girl relying wholly on his judgment. They seemed entangled in a network of very crooked and very bewildering streets.

Again they were suddenly confronted by a number of loaded camels. The one in advance was heavily loaded, his pack being so broad that it nearly touched the walls on either side. The beast came swinging on.

Nadia uttered a cry of alarm and turned to run. She fled up some steps and disappeared within an open doorway.

Dick gave a gasp of dismay as he followed her, for he saw she had entered a Moslem temple, and he knew such an intrusion might produce an uproar.

He sprang up the steps. Even as he did so, he heard sudden shouts of alarm and anger coming from within the temple.

Then Nadia reappeared, looking rather startled and agitated.

“Goodness!” she gasped. “I almost ran right onto a lot of monks at their devotions!”

The camels were swinging past.

“We must get away from here in a hurry!” exclaimed Dick.

Even as he uttered the words several priests came hurrying to the open door of the temple. They saw Nadia. One of them pointed at her and shouted to his companions. Then the whole of them moved again, as if eager to lay hands on her.

“Here’s trouble!” muttered Dick, feeling for his pistol.

“Don’t let them touch me!” gasped Nadia.

The head priest called to some of the men of the train that was passing. Several of these men, swarthy and villainous in appearance, halted in answer to this call. The words of the priest seemed to arouse them. They glared at the girl and started to mount the steps.

Out flashed Merriwell’s pistol.

“Hold on, you dogs!” he commanded, displaying the weapon. “Stop where you are! Back up, or I’ll have to damage some of you!”

The sight of that pistol caused the foremost among them to retreat precipitately.

But Dick and Nadia were caught between two fires, as it were. The angry priests were behind them, while a number of savage men were in front.

The American boy knew he must lose not a moment in changing his position.

Grasping Nadia’s wrist, he hurried down the steps and attempted to flee along the street.

Another shout from the priests caused several of the fierce-looking men to place themselves before Dick and the girl. Although Merriwell threatened to shoot, they would not let him pass.

Merriwell looked round for some place where he could hold off the fanatical Moslems. He was forced to retreat against the nearest wall.

Supporting Nadia with one arm, he lifted his pistol and fearlessly faced the howling crowd, which now began to close about them in a half circle, urged on by the priests.

“Death to the infidels!” howled the crowd.

They shook their fists at the boy and girl. Those behind tried to urge on those in advance. One old Turk spat at Dick.

Young Merriwell realized the seriousness of his position. He was pale, but his nerves remained steady and unshaken.

“Come on!” he cried clearly. “I’ll fill some of you with lead!”

Suddenly the crowd parted. A man forced his way through, pushing other men to the right and left. As he advanced he drew a gleaming sword, the hilt of which was set with jewels.

The crowd seemed to think this man, who was an Arab of rank and distinction, judging by his dress, meant to attack the boy, and they uttered shouts of approval, urging him to run the “infidel dog” through.

Dick had turned his pistol on the man with the sword, but he hesitated.

“It is Ras al Had!” he exclaimed, in surprise.

CHAPTER XI – A MAN OF COMMAND

It was in truth the sheik who had been struck by the train the previous day.

The Arab turned and faced the howling mob, flourishing his shining sword.

“Destroy the infidel who has defiled the holy temple of the Prophet!” snarled one of the infuriated Mohammedans.

“By the grave of my father,” cried the sheik, “I swear to slay the first who tries to touch her!”

They were astounded, and as he swept his sword with a hissing sound beneath their noses they involuntarily fell back.

One of the priests called to the sheik, demanding to know why he defended the infidels.

The aged Arab retorted that he had a most excellent reason, and that he would lay down his life rather than see either the girl or boy harmed.

He did more than that, for he called several of the mob by name, commanding them to move on and give the strangers permission to depart in peace.

One of the priests attempted to expostulate, explaining that the girl had entered the temple, thus committing an offense that could be atoned for by blood alone.

Then Ras al Had retorted that the girl had been alarmed by the camels of his train and had fled into the temple to escape from them. He further added that infidels were sometimes permitted to visit the temple, escorted by a military guard. In conclusion he stated that he was indebted for his very life to the boy who stood ready to defend the maiden, and, therefore, he was willing to surrender his life in behalf of the lad.

They realized that he was in earnest, and those whom he had called by name and ordered to depart began to slip away.

He then singled out three or four of his own camel drivers, who had dropped back to see what all the uproar was about, and called them to his side.

“Boy,” he said, addressing Dick, “I will see that no harm comes to you or to the girl. Trust me.”

“Thank you,” said Dick gratefully. “I think you took a hand just in time to prevent those wolves from tearing us to pieces.”

“Without doubt you would have met serious injury at their hands. These men are my paid servants. We will escort you and protect you. Fear not.”

The camel drivers gathered about Dick and Nadia. Ras al Had placed himself at their head and ordered them to march.

Flinging his hands in the air, one of the priests stood firmly in the path, refusing to move.

The eyes of Ras al Had shone strangely. He stepped close to the priest, called him by name, and spoke in a low tone.

“It was thy brother whom I delivered from slavery in Nubia,” he said. “Then thou didst fall on my neck and weep and swear by the Prophet that whatever I should ask of thee at any time thou wouldst grant. Hast forgotten?”

“It is true, noble sheik,” confessed the priest; “but tell me hast thou forgotten thy religion that thou canst defend an infidel who has defiled the temple of Mohammed?”

“Ras al Had never forgets. These infidels are mighty and powerful, and should harm come to them through thee, then thou wilt be forced to make reparation in the dust. For thy own good, stand aside and let them pass.”

There seemed to be great command in the dark eyes of the swarthy man, and those eyes were fixed on the priest with burning insistence.

The priest hesitated a moment longer, and then, bowing low with dismay and regret he could not utter, he stood aside.

Ras al Had marched on, his servants following, still with Dick and Nadia in their midst.

They reached the camel train. Behind them the mob had melted away. The danger was past.

“Dick,” said Nadia, pressing Merriwell’s arm, “I think that old man is just splendid! I never dreamed a black man could be so fine!”

Ras al Had turned to them.

“Boy,” he spoke, “it has been truly said that Ras al Had is one who never forgets a debt. Yet when I gave you my word to defend you with my sword and life should the time ever come that I found you in peril, I little thought to what it would bring me. Still I have canceled the debt, and I feel that I owe you nothing.”

“You’re all right, sheik!” exclaimed the boy enthusiastically. “I don’t know how we are going to thank you for – ”

Ras al Had checked him with a gesture.

“I want no thanks. Let me caution you against wandering about Damascus without escort or protection. It is a great folly. Where are your friends?”

Dick explained how it happened that he and Nadia had been caught in such a predicament.

The sheik gazed attentively at the girl and then shook his head soberly.

“A maid so beautiful is in great danger here, unless she be well protected. She might disappear suddenly, and years of searching might not disclose her fate. There are men in Damascus who could not look on her without coveting possession of her. How simple it would be for one of these buildings to swallow you both! You, boy, would meet a swift death, and your body would be so completely destroyed that no trace of it could ever be found. There are prisons in the city where dwell beautiful maidens like her, given every luxury save liberty. Once they have passed within the prison doors they may never again come forth.”

Nadia shuddered and clung to Dick’s arm.

“I have heard of such things,” she said; “but I supposed the custom had been abolished.”

“This day,” said Ras al Had, “a friend of mine from the interior has arrived with many beautiful girls, the most of them Circassians. I spoke with him as I was entering the city. He will take them to a certain house, the location of which I know, and there they will be attended by hairdressers and dressmakers, who will do everything possible to add to their attractiveness. When they are prepared for inspection, certain rich men will visit them and choose from among them, paying the price demanded, after which no other man save their masters will ever look on their faces.”

“Perfectly dreadful!” gasped Nadia. “It makes me shiver to think what would have happened had Hafsa Pasha been able to hoodwink me and my brother.”

The sheik gave her a swift, keen look.

“Hafsa Pasha?” he said, a strange intonation in his voice. “How know you that man?”

“I met him on the steamer from Smyrna to Beirut.”

“What happened?”

Nadia was confused.

“Why, he – he – ”

“He made love to her,” Dick explained. “He asked her to marry him.”

“You knew him to be a Moslem?”

“I knew nothing at the time save what he told me of himself,” answered the girl. “The captain of the vessel told me that he had been banished to Damascus by the sultan on account of some political intrigue, and that he had a harem.”

Ras al Had bowed.

“It is true. I know that man – I know him well! He takes good care to avoid me. I was told by my friend, who had brought the girls from the interior, that there was among them one very beautiful maiden whom he hoped to sell to Hafsa Pasha for a handsome price.”

Nadia shivered again.

“To think that I could even talk with a monster who buys human beings like cattle!” she exclaimed.

“I have contemplated seeking the opportunity to meet Hafsa Pasha when he comes for the Circassian maiden,” said the sheik. “It is possible that I may be there.”

“It seems to me,” observed Dick, “that you have no particularly friendly feeling toward Mr. Hafsa.”

“I have no reason to feel kindly toward him,” confessed the Arab, in a tone of much bitterness. “He once did my younger brother a great wrong. It has been truly said that Ras al Had never forgets, and this wrong he remembers. Some day Hafsa Pasha shall suffer for it, even as he caused my brother to suffer.”

“I don’t like to be inquisitive,” said Dick; “but my curiosity is aroused, and I wonder how he wronged your brother.”

“My brother sold him a cargo of fine rugs, silks, and many precious stones. Hafsa Pasha is no true Mohammedan. He has lived much in the Western countries. Otherwise he would not have denied the price he owed for the goods he had received. He was powerful in a way, and my brother disappeared. I demanded of Hafsa Pasha what had become of my brother, but he swore he knew not. More than a year later I found my brother, a slave and dying far beyond Bagdad, even near to Yezd, which is in the Great Salt Desert. With his last words my brother declared that he believed he was carried into slavery through the plotting and command of Hafsa Pasha, who sought thus to get him out of the way. Thus, you see, Hafsa Pasha escaped payment of the just debt he owed. There was no real proof, but I am satisfied that my brother was right. I have sought diligently to obtain the proof, that I might bring Hafsa Pasha to justice. Even though I have failed in my efforts, never once have I faltered in my resolve to bring punishment on the evildoer.”

There was a sort of grim earnestness and intensity in the quiet words of the old sheik, and Dick felt that Hafsa Pasha had made a very bitter and dangerous enemy.

“Well, I hope you corner the old rascal in the end,” said the boy. “But we must get back to the bazaars. Dunbar and the professor will be tearing the city up in search of us.”

“I will send an escort with you,” said Ras al Had. “Remember my words of warning and be cautious. We may never meet again, but I feel that I have canceled my debt to you, even as I shall some day make settlement with Hafsa Pasha.”

Ras al Had called four sturdy black men and bade them escort the boy and girl back to the bazaars and from thence to their hotel, in case they wished it.

Then he bade Dick and Nadia a dignified farewell.

The escort were four villainous-looking black rascals, and Nadia was afraid of them; but Dick tried to reassure her, declaring that the servants of Ras al Had were to be trusted, no matter how untrustworthy they looked.

Here and there through the crooked, winding streets they made their way. To Dick it seemed that they had covered a far greater distance than was necessary in order to return directly to the bazaars; but he fancied the black men were taking them by a round-about course in order to avoid the vicinity of the temple where the trouble had taken place.

As they proceeded they were joined by a crooked, wizened old Turk, who seemed to know the black men. He spoke to them one by one, but not a word that he said reached the ears of the boy and girl.

Nadia shrank close to Dick, and the hand that clung to his arm trembled a little.

“I don’t like that man,” she whispered. “Did you see how he looked at me? I wish we were by ourselves. We do not need an escort.”

Merriwell tried to reassure her, but he was not entirely easy in his mind.

Finally he spoke to one of the black men, asking why it took so long to reach the bazaars.

The fellow made some sort of an explanation in broken English, but scarcely a word of it could Dick understand.

By this time they were in a quarter of the city that added to the apprehension of the American boy. The people they passed stared at them in a manner that was decidedly disagreeable, to say the least, and many made remarks that were plainly of an insulting nature.

Finally Dick stopped.

“Look here,” he said; “we will go it alone the rest of the way. We are much obliged for your kindness, but we don’t need you any more.”

Then the old Turk approached him and mildly but firmly insisted that it would be quite suicidal to dismiss the escort in such a manner and in such a quarter of the city.

“When did you get into this game?” demanded the boy, somewhat warmly. “It doesn’t strike me that you have anything to say about it.”

Then the crooked old fellow protested that he was a friend to Ras al Had and was working entirely in the interest of the sheik.

Dick’s suspicions were redoubled, instead of allayed.

“That may be true,” he said; “but we don’t propose to trouble Ras al Had’s friends any more. Take the whole bunch and go.”

“And never again have the courage to look the great sheik in the face?” said the Turk. “No; not until I know you are safe with your friends will I abandon you.”

Dick turned to one of the black men, who seemed to be something of a leader.

“Say, you,” he exclaimed, “I want you to shake yourself and get out of this right away! Understand? Take this befezzed old relic with you, too. Git!”

The man shook his head and held up his hands as if he did not understand.

Nadia’s alarm had increased. She saw that Dick was rapidly becoming very angry, and she urged him to hold his temper.

“I’ll travel no farther with these men!” declared the determined boy.

The Turk said something to the black men, and they began to crowd about Dick and the girl.

Seeing this, the boy reached for his pistol.

Before he could draw the weapon, however, he was seized by the throat by a huge pair of hands, the owner of which was behind him. Another of the black rascals clutched his arm and prevented him from producing the weapon.

The hands which clasped the boy’s neck were very powerful, and the massive fingers shut off his wind in a moment. The pressure thus exerted seemed crushing flesh and bone.

He exerted all his strength in the effort to break away, but realized that he had very little chance to succeed.

Through a haze he saw Nadia struggling weakly in the grip of the crooked Turk and one of the black men. There was a sudden roaring in his ears, but through it came a sharp sound that he knew was a scream from the lips of the unfortunate girl.

A feeling of desperate fury shot through his heart. The very fact that he felt himself impotent to aid Nadia thrilled him with a horrible madness. He remembered the warning words of Ras al Had.

But had the old sheik been sincere? Many a time he had heard that no Moslem ever felt himself bound in honor to an infidel. In fact, to deceive and betray an infidel was regarded as a commendable and praiseworthy proceeding.

Had not Ras al Had played a crafty game from the start? It was truly surprising that the sheik had dared array himself against the priests before the temple. Had he not done so in order to deceive and betray the infidels more completely? Was it not possible the old scoundrel had realized that any harm befalling the boy and girl in the vicinity of the bazaars might bring swift retribution on the offenders, for which reason he had entered into the affair, held the mob in check for the time being, finally to decoy the victims into a part of the city where they could be murdered with very little chance that the crime would ever be punished?

This hazy thought caused young Merriwell to twist and squirm in the clutch of those iron hands, making a last deranged effort to free himself that he might fight for her.

His senses reeled and a black cloud, riven by flashes of lightning, descended upon him. He knew he was losing consciousness. Heavy bells rang in his ears. Somewhere in the distance cannon boomed. Then these sounds died away. The harsh bells and booming cannon were silenced by an organ peal. The music thrilled through him. It sank to a soft, throbbing strain and then receded into the distance, growing fainter and fainter. Peace fell on him. He struggled no more.

Was it death?

CHAPTER XII – BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

Dick’s next sensation was that of an acute pain that shot through every limb and every part of his body. On his chest there seemed a terrible weight that was smothering him, while his head was being crushed by an iron band. He was choking; his neck gave him the most exquisite agony. Far away he seemed to hear the babble of mocking voices. Some one was laughing at him; there were many of them.

In spite of the terrible pains he felt, every limb seemed numb and helpless. He had not strength nor power of will. A husky groan came from his lips, which were purple and tinged with blood. That sound called forth another burst of mocking laughter.

He opened his eyes. At first he could see nothing, for the bright sun of the Orient was shining full upon him.

He knew not what had happened.

After a bit he began to realize that he was lying flat on his back in a narrow street, while around him at a little distance were standing many strange men. They were gazing at him in contempt and laughing at his misery. To him in his agony their faces seemed the faces of fiends.

A feeling of resentment and anger lay hold upon him. It infuriated him because they could stand about and mock him in his wretchedness.

“You dog!” he tried to cry; but the hissing gasp that came from his lips was inarticulate.

One of the crowd stepped out and poked the boy with his foot. Then he lifted his hand to his mouth and threw back his head, as if drinking, after which he made a few staggering steps.

The crowd roared with laughter.

For all of his condition, Dick understood that pantomime. The crowd thought him drunk.

But what had happened to him? Why was he lying there in that wretched street, with the fierce sun beating on him?

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had taken place. His effort carried him back to Fardale. For the time being he fancied he had been engaged in a desperate game of football, and in the fearful line-bucking clash he had been injured. That was it. He was lying on the football field. The narrow street, the queer, gray houses, and the mocking fiends who laughed at his misery were the hallucinations of his shocked brain.

What were the boys doing? Had they checked the charge of the enemy? Perhaps they had the ball! Possibly some one of them had carried it over the enemy’s line for a touchdown, and so, in the excitement of victory, their injured captain had been forgotten.

“Rah! rah! rah! Fardale!”

He tried to cheer. It was the duty of a true son of old Fardale to cheer as long as the breath of life remained in his body.

Once more that sound of mocking laughter reached him. Again he opened his eyes.

He saw no comrades in red and black. He saw no stand packed with cheering cadets. Again he beheld the gray buildings of the dirty street. Again he saw those leering faces and grinning mouths all around him.

“It’s a nightmare!” he whispered. “I must break the spell! I must move!”

He made a mighty effort, and, in spite of the pain, rolled over on his side.

The old man came up and kicked him back into his former position.

“Wait!” thought the boy – “wait till I get up, you dirty wretch! You’ll not wipe your feet on me after that!”

One of the crowd spat at him and called him a filthy infidel.

“I’ll try to remember you, also!” said Dick to himself.

Weakly he lifted his hands to his neck. It was paining him frightfully, and he seemed to feel marks upon it, as if something had left indelible prints in the flesh.

“I’m not in Fardale,” he thought. “I’m somewhere – somewhere – somewhere far away. Where am I? and how did I get here?”

The pressure on his head prevented him from thinking. He felt to see if an iron band were truly crushing his skull.

He could find nothing of the sort.

“I must get up! I must! I will!”

They laughed and called to him as he lifted himself little by little to his elbow. At last, with his hands on the ground and his body lurched to one side, like a man wounded unto death, he paused, breathing with a horrible, whistling sound.

“Strength – I must have strength!” he thought. “If I give up the least bit, I’ll drop back here and never rise again.”

So he waited until a little more strength came to him. He seemed to summon it by his indomitable and unyielding will.

He heard the rabble chattering about him, but he no longer heeded them.

“The ocean liner – England – Italy – Constantinople!” He was beginning to remember.

“Where is Brad? Where is the professor?”

He straightened up, in spite of all the pain it cost him. He shifted until he was on his hands and knees.

The old man, grinning maliciously, again hastened forward and lifted his foot, intending to kick the boy over.

“Stay!”

It was a single word of command, but it was spoken in a tone that caused the man to pause.

Through the crowd strode a man with a dark face and a black beard that was threaded with gray. He was dressed in garments that seemed to proclaim him a person of more than common rank. He advanced and bent over the lad, whom he lifted to a standing position, supporting him with one arm.

“Boy,” he demanded, “what does it mean? Tell me what has happened to thee and to the beautiful maiden.”

“The – the beautiful maiden?” muttered Dick. “You mean – you mean – Nadia?”

Then he remembered, and the shock caused him to straighten up stiffly. He turned and looked into the face of Ras al Had.

“You – you treacherous snake!” he panted.

With all the strength he could summon, he struck the old sheik in the face.

The mob gasped, and then it howled. It pressed forward, seeking to lay hands on the tottering boy who had dared strike one of the true faith.

Again Ras al Had drew his sword. Some of them expected to see him run the infidel through the body. Instead of that, he drove them back.

“Keep thy hands off him!” commanded the sheik. “Leave him to me!”

Once more he clutched the lad, who was swaying and apparently ready to fall.

“Don’t touch me, you traitor!” gasped Merriwell. “I wish I had left you to die beside the railroad, instead of pumping the breath of life back into your miserable, old carcass!”

“You are mad, boy.”

“That’s right, I am!”

“Tell me what happened?”

“You know!”

“By the beard of the Prophet, I swear I do not know.”

“It is no sin to lie to an infidel!”

“Ras al Had never lied to any man.”

“You do not know what happened? Well, we were betrayed by those black dogs you sent to escort us. We were led here. I was choked into unconsciousness. What has become of Nadia I cannot tell.”

A strange and terrible look came to the face of the old Arab. His eyes glittered with a deadly light.

“Do you swear that my men did this?”

“Yes.”

“Then to you I swear that each and every one of them shall pay the penalty of their treachery with his life! That is the oath of Ras al Had! Do you hear me!”

“I hear, but – ”

“You shall see that I keep it. Trust me again. With a word I might have set these men upon you to beat the life from your weak body. Why did I not speak that word?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Dick, “unless it was in order that you might have the satisfaction of deceiving me and betraying me again.”

“If I leave you now, they will fall on you. I will remain by you and take you to a place of safety. I will prove to you that I am honest. More than that, I will find the maiden and restore her to you.”

“Can – can you do it?”

“I have given my pledge. Lean on my arm. No one will place the weight of a finger on you while you are with me.”

They walked away, the old sheik supporting the boy and questioning him. Dick related everything that had taken place. As well as possible he described the appearance of the old Turk who had joined the escort sent by Ras al Had to conduct the boy and girl back to their friends.

“I think I know the man,” nodded the sheik. “I am sure I know him.”

“But your servants – you can force the truth from them.”

“I doubt if I behold any one of them for many days to come. Without doubt they were well paid for what they did, and they will endeavor to keep beyond my reach, for they know the meaning of my wrath. Yet they shall not escape me in the end.”

“But it is the girl – it is poor Nadia I am thinking of!” groaned Dick. “She may be dragged into a harem.”

“Has she friends of influence in your country?”

“Yes. She – ”

“You must appeal to the American consul. In the meantime I will be at work. Hast forgotten that she fell beneath the covetous eye of Hafsa Pasha?”

“No! I believe that wretch is behind this dirty piece of work! If so, I’ll have his life!”

“It is not likely she will be taken into a harem until the man who caused her capture learns what is going to be done about it. She will be kept somewhere for the time being. If you have influence enough to create a great disturbance about it, some day she will be set free in some remote part of the city. It will be claimed that she was captured and held for ransom by brigands. You know such a thing has happened to some of your American missionaries. If her disappearance causes no great disturbance, then the man into whose power she has fallen may add her to his harem. For a few days, however, I believe she is safe. For her captors will not dare injure her.”

To a slight degree these words relieved Dick. Of course he was still greatly distressed over what had happened to Nadia; but if she was not immediately dragged into a harem, there might be plenty of opportunity to frustrate any designs upon her.

Dick’s brain was growing clearer and his body stronger. He no longer believed that Ras al Had was concerned in bringing about the misfortune that had befallen Nadia.

“Forgive me, sheik, for striking you as I did,” he entreated. “I ask your pardon in all humbleness. I was infuriated with the conviction that you had betrayed us.”

“Say no more of that. I should have accompanied you, for then no harm would have befallen you. I feel that I am responsible; and, feeling thus, I shall leave no stone unturned to aid you. This way, we will find a conveyance at the corner. When you have reached your friends, lose no time in laying the case before your consul. He will know the best course to pursue; but meanwhile Ras al Had will be working faithfully for you.”