Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 3

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 p.r.o.nounced 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 d.i.c.k 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.

d.i.c.k 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 appet.i.tes, and then the Nubian and an a.s.sistant 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 ma.s.sive chest and regarded them steadily with his eyes. When they had finished the a.s.sistant 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 d.i.c.k.

"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 d.i.c.k, 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, d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k'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 d.i.c.k 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."