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Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 11

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"Hardly," a.s.sured 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 d.i.c.k. "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: 'G.o.d is great; there is but one G.o.d; Mohammed is the prophet of G.o.d; 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k. "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 b.l.o.o.d.y duel, professor," laughed d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k.

"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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k.

"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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k on their arrival, to pilot them from the steamer to their hotel.

In less than thirty minutes Mustapha appeared, salaming in true Turkish fas.h.i.+on, the ta.s.sel 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."

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