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Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 28

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The black man with the light hastened to obey. The whip, a long, wicked-looking affair, with a rawhide lash into which were knotted many pieces of lead, was quickly produced.

Ras al Had took the spluttering light from a.s.souan's hand.

"Stand ready," he directed. "When I bid you strike have no mercy."

d.i.c.k's blood was cold in his body. The situation was one to fill him with horror. He was alone in that wretched shed, his companions a merciless Arab, a black man of the desert, and the helpless wretch bound outspread on the bare ground. It was night, and the moon had not yet risen. Beneath the shed the darkness was dispelled only by the flaring light, which cast many grotesque shadows dancing on the walls.

Again Ras al Had bade the man speak. In return there was neither sound nor movement.



"Strike, a.s.souan-strike!" said the sheik coldly.

a.s.souan lifted the whip.

d.i.c.k could stand no more of it, and he stepped in front of the black man, crying:

"Hold! This is too much! Tell me, Ras al Had, what he confessed, but do not carry this thing further!"

A strange look of mingled surprise and rage at this interference settled on the face of the old Arab. He opened his lips to speak, but at this moment the man on the ground groaned and mumbled a few broken words.

Instantly Ras al Had bent over the wretch, holding the light so it fell on the man's face. The traitor's head had dropped over to one side, his lips were open, showing his gleaming teeth, while his eyes glittered gla.s.sily.

The sheik poked a finger at those wide-open, glittering eyes. They did not blink. Then Ras al Had rose and said very quietly:

"It is too late. He will speak no more. He is dead."

d.i.c.k felt ill, and hurried out of the shed into the open air.

The old sheik followed.

"Although he is dead," he said, "I can tell you what he confessed. The name of the crooked old Turk who paid them to attack you and carry the maiden away is Abu Hammed. Hammed is in the employ of Hafsa Pasha. The girl is to be kept somewhere until the excitement dies down, and then she will be added to Hafsa Pasha's harem. He thinks that by that time he can win her over so she will be willing and glad to live a life of ease in the harem."

"If you had only learned where they took her--"

"Wait. I told you of my friend who just arrived in Damascus with many beautiful girls, one of which he has brought for Hafsa Pasha."

"Yes."

"Hafsa Pasha will visit the house where those girls are to-night. I have not forgotten the fate of my brother far away in Persia. Some day my sword shall drink the blood of Hafsa Pasha; but first I would find a way to compel him to tell where the maid you seek is hidden."

"Wait!" cried d.i.c.k, struck by a sudden idea. "It might be done! I believe it can be! It's worth trying!"

"Of what do you speak?"

"I have a plan."

"Unfold it."

"Can't you get me into the house where those girls are?"

"Of what good would that be?"

"I'll go disguised as a girl."

"A girl?"

"Yes."

"But--"

"It will not be the first time I have made up as a girl, and they say I make a pretty girl, too. If you know where I can get the outfit, I'll make up as a girl and go there. Can't you arrange it so I'll fall beneath the notice of Hafsa Pasha? If his attention is called to me I'll do my part."

"What will you do?"

"I'll fool him. I'll get him to buy me and take me to his harem. I'll win his confidence and find out where Nadia is hidden."

"It is a desperate venture."

"But I'll play my part, depend on it. Wait until you see me made up as a girl. If you are not satisfied then you may refuse to go on with the scheme."

The old Arab seemed to catch some of the boy's enthusiasm.

"Very well," he said. "If it costs you your life, I cannot feel that I am to bear the blame. It is your plan. I'll take you without delay to a place where you may dress and prepare for the deception. But you shall have a.s.sistants, hairdressers, dressmakers, anything you need to make your disguise perfect."

Ras al Had then spoke to a.s.souan, giving him some directions in regard to the dead man in the shed.

d.i.c.k followed his strange companion through a number of crooked streets.

Finally they reached the door of a house, to which they were admitted on knocking.

The sheik conferred with a gnarled and crooked old Jew, explaining that he wished the boy to be dressed and made up like a girl. The old Jew seemed puzzled and surprised, but agreed, for a price, to attempt the transformation.

Time was pa.s.sing, and the sheik did not haggle. He simply insisted that the job should be thoroughly done, and the boy should be made up as carefully and tastily as if he were in truth a girl.

Then he left d.i.c.k in the old Jew's hands, saying he would hasten to complete the necessary arrangements and then return for the transformed boy.

Less than an hour later the aged sheik again knocked at the Jew's door and was admitted. He was informed that the boy would soon be ready to accompany him, but that he would have to wait a few minutes while the finis.h.i.+ng touches of the disguise were being put on.

The Jew asked him if he had any objections to waiting in a room with a young lady customer, and Ras al Had soon found himself in a small apartment, in a corner of which sat a girl in street costume. Apparently she was a foreigner, for her flesh was dazzlingly fair, and her clothes, from the beautiful hat on her head to the high-heeled boots on her feet, had a distinct Parisian touch.

The sheik remained standing, quite aware that the girl was surveying him with evident interest or curiosity. His one glance had shown him that she was unusually handsome, with dark hair and eyes.

Finally she heaved a sigh and moved impatiently.

"Dear me!" she said, in perfect English. "This is very tiresome. I've waited nearly an hour. Won't you sit down, sir?"

Ras al Had bowed very low and took a seat upon the floor.

"How funny!" laughed the girl, with a fetching little shrug of her shoulders. "All you dark gentlemen decline to sit on chairs. You always sit on the floor or the ground, and cross your legs."

Again he bowed, without speaking.

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About Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 28 novel

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