Dick Merriwell’s Pranks E-Book

Burt L. Standish

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Burt L. Standish wrote another exciting story about Dick Merriwell. The story of the story develops on deck. Among the crowd on the deck were two boys who made a European tour under the guidance of Professor Zenas Gann. Dick Merriwell, younger brother of former great Yale athlete and scholar Frank Merriwella. Dick was his buddy Bradley Backhart. The guys continue their journey, revealing to the reader the beauty of the whole world.

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER I. IN THE BOSPORUS

CHAPTER II. IN PERSIA

CHAPTER III. THE PERSISTENCE OF ACHMET

CHAPTER IV. THE CHALLENGE

CHAPTER V. IN THE CEMETERY

CHAPTER VI. THE SIGHTS OF STAMBOUL

CHAPTER VII. LOST ON THE BURIED LAKE

CHAPTER VIII. ON THE WAY TO DAMASCUS

CHAPTER IX. THE STRUGGLE AT THE STATION

CHAPTER X. THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

CHAPTER XI. A MAN OF COMMAND

CHAPTER XII. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

CHAPTER XIII. INWARD TORTURE

CHAPTER XIV. DICK DISOBEYS

CHAPTER XV. PURCHASING A HUMAN BEING

CHAPTER XVI. THE SWORD IS STAINED

CHAPTER XVII. A POSITION OF PERIL

CHAPTER XVIII. IN A DEADLY TRAP

CHAPTER XIX. BRAD AND NADIA

CHAPTER XX. THE FLIGHT

CHAPTER XXI. SAVED BY PRAYER

CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DESERT

CHAPTER XXIII. THE FOUNT OF FURY

CHAPTER XXIV. THE FATE OF A FOE

CHAPTER XXV. SUNSET FROM THE CITADEL

CHAPTER XXVI. SOME INTERESTING CONVERSATION

CHAPTER XXVII. THE PROFESSOR’S GAME

CHAPTER XXVIII. IN BUNOL’S POWER

CHAPTER XXIX. THE PURSUIT ON THE RIVER

CHAPTER XXX. HIS JUST DESERTS

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.”