Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 18

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, d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k 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.

d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k Merriwell. In fact, Brad fought with more slashing fury than did d.i.c.k, but not with the same quick wit and instant decision on the right course to pursue.

The Texan had proved a.s.sistance 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.

d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 grat.i.tude.

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 d.i.c.k.

"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. d.i.c.k was clear-headed, and he soon learned what to do with it, although Zenas rendered absolutely no a.s.sistance. 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, a.s.suring 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."

d.i.c.k 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.