Dick Merriwell's Pranks: or, Lively Times in the Orient
“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.”
CHAPTER XIII – INWARD TORTURE
Alone, Brad Buckhart returned to the hotel. He realized that he had acted in a ridiculous manner in avoiding his friends and running away from Dick and Nadia on the streets, but his feeling of shame for such folly was smothered by one of resentment and jealousy.
“I thought her different from other girls,” he muttered, as he paced the floor of his room; “but she’s just like them all – false, fickle, and giddy. She pretended to like me, but out of sight is out of mind with her. She flirted with that confounded Turk – yes, she did! That’s what got her into trouble. Her brother is just as foolish as she is. He encouraged her. I suppose they think me nothing but a rough Texan, good enough to fight for them and get them out of their troubles, but not good for anything else. Well, if I take a fancy, I can show them I’m not half as rough as they think.
“I imagine I can make a respectable appearance in refined society if I choose to try. Perhaps my family is just as good as the Budthornes. I’d rather confess to hailing from Texas than to admit that I was from Chicago. Chicago! Why, a decent white man will turn to a smoked ham in that town in less than three days! As for wild and woolly places, I declare Chicago lays way over Texas. A man is liable to be held up anywhere in Chicago in broad daylight. If he’s sandbagged and robbed, and makes a complaint to the police, he stands a fine prospect of being locked up as a vagrant. No one from Chicago can get chesty with me.”
He was perfectly serious, little realizing the humor of his observations and attitude. Although naturally broad-minded and manly, he had been “rubbed the wrong way of the fur” by Nadia’s action, and, for the time, at least, he was almost childish in his resentment.
The fact that he had this weakness, however, made his other manly qualities stand out even more clearly.
“I’ll show her how much I care!” he continued. “I’ll just hold my head up and keep out of her way. Let her go it! Let her flirt with Turks! If she does, she’ll be sorry!”
He paused. The picture of Nadia making eyes at a handsome Turkish gentleman rose before him. He fancied he was willing she should do anything she wished, but now, all at once, he realized that she could hurt him very much in case she disdained him and turned her attention in other directions.
He had been bluffing when he ran away from her, and he knew it now. As a rule he was able and willing to back up any bluff he made, but now his reason told him he would weaken immediately in case this bluff was called.
What if Nadia became offended by his ungentlemanly behavior in running away from her when she called to him and tried to overtake him? What if that one bad break of his should cause her in future to regard him with indifference or aversion?
“Oh, ginger!” he exclaimed. “I couldn’t stand that! It would drive me to suicide! I’m a chump, and I can’t help it! Dick is with her. Perhaps she’ll get smitten on him!”
This thought added to his agitation.
“How can she help it?” he muttered, again fiercely pacing the floor. “Dick is the sort of fellow all the girls care for. He’s far superior to me, and I don’t see how she came to be interested the least bit in me in the first place. Of course, there is June Arlington and Doris Templeton – but they’re on the other side of the Atlantic, and I don’t believe there ever yet was a pretty girl who did not believe she could cut out another girl if she really tried.
“Perhaps that’s what Nadia is trying to do! Perhaps she’s playing a clever game by pretending to have any interest in me and seeming indifferent to Dick. A girl best attracts a fellow by seeming indifferent to him. The girl who pursues a chap is bound to lose him, nine times out of ten. It’s the fellow who wants to do the pursuing. He loves the chase and the zest of it. Some girls know this, and they play the timid deer to perfection. Nadia Budthorne is right clever, and I’ll wager something this little game is no secret to her.
“I’ve hit it at last! I’ve known all along that she really cared for Dick, and now I’ve been fool enough to help her in her play. Say, I ought to be shot! I know Dick is on the level, but how is he going to resist a clever girl like her? He might, if June Arlington were near; but June is far away, and, in my estimation, Nadia lays away over June any old time. Oh, you poor fool!”
He clenched his fist and struck himself on the side of the head.
Thus it happened that Professor Gunn and Dunbar Budthorne found the Texan in anything but a happy frame of mind when they returned to the hotel.
They were agitated over the disappearance of Dick and Nadia, for whom they had searched and inquired ere leaving the bazaars. When they did return to the hotel it was with the expectation and hope that they might find the boy and girl there.
“They will turn up all right,” declared Brad. “Dick will take care of her, never fear.”
And now for the first time in his life he grew violently jealous of his bosom comrade.
