Dick Merriwell's Pranks: or, Lively Times in the Orient
TekstCHAPTER XXI – SAVED BY PRAYER
One of the mob struck the old professor in the face. Instantly Dick started forward.
Then a most fortunate thing happened.
From the balcony of a near-by minaret a muezzin sent forth the call to prayer:
“God is great. There is but one God. Mohammed is the prophet of God. Prayer is better than sleep. Come to prayer.”
Immediately a wonderful change came over the crowd on the street. As one man, they lifted their hands to their ears, the lobes of which they touched with their thumbs, keeping their hands outspread, at the same time beginning to repeat certain passages from the Koran. This was the beginning of the Mohammedan prayer.
The professor seemed forgotten. Dick realized instantly that this was a time to be improved, for the shortest prayer would require several minutes.
The call to prayer had come at a moment most fortunate for Professor Gunn. Instantly Dick hurried past the confused and trembling old man, hissing in his ear:
“Follow me!”
All around them were the praying Mussulmans, but not one of them put out a hand to stop the disguised foreigners.
Brad followed after Dick and the professor, thus acting as a sort of rear guard.
Once or twice Dick looked back to see if Zenas was following. Terror had given the old man strength, and he was not far from the boy’s heels.
Even when the devotees of Mohammed fell on their knees and began beating their heads on the ground, the fugitives continued to thread their way amid the half-prostrate figures.
Dick did not know which way Assouan had gone, but he did know it was best for them to get as far as possible from the vicinity of the German hotel.
Of course, he hoped the black servant of Ras al Had would again appear, but he did not linger to look around for him.
They were fortunate in getting out of the thickest of the crowd before the devotees had finished praying.
“That sure was a close call,” muttered Buckhart. “I reckoned we were all goners.”
“Why didn’t you leave me, boys?” asked the professor. “I was keeping silent to give you time to escape.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Dick resentfully. “I hope you don’t think we’re that sort!”
“I hope so some myself!” growled the Texan. “Where is that thundering nig – I mean colored gent?”
“He’s skipped,” said Dick.
“Hiked and left us to go it alone, eh?” nodded the Texan. “Well, that’s a plenty fine!”
“We may find him,” suggested Zenas.
“Not likely,” said Dick. “I fancy he thought the jig was up when he saw the crowd fall on you, as he shook the dust of that locality off his feet.”
“That will leave us in a beautiful scrape; but we’re outside that hotel,” said Brad. “It was a close call there, for we barely succeeded in slipping through the fingers of the Turks. How are we going to get out of this dirty old city, Dick?”
“I can’t say,” confessed Merriwell.
“Talk about the wild and woolly West!” growled Brad. “Why, since the days of Sam Houston and Davy Crockett there never were such doings in Texas as we’ve struck right here in this dried-up, outlandish country. If I ever get back home to tell about these doings, I won’t dare to tell, for they sure would lynch me as a liar.”
“We’re talking too much,” said Dick. “We’re attracting attention. Stop talking and keep moving.”
He led the way and they followed blindly.
Suddenly, as they turned from one street into another, the most appalling medley of horrible sounds burst upon their ears. It seemed that a hundred human beings were being tortured in the most excruciating manner, and were howling forth their dying agonies. There were yells, screams, roars, and, amid it all, a sort of muffled music, as of drums and other instruments.
“Great catamounts!” gasped Buckhart. “We’re up against a whole tribe of Injuns at a scalp dance, or I’m mistaken!”
Dick was startled and filled with wonderment.
“Listen!” he urged.
“Hu, ya Hu! Hu, ya Hu! Hu, ya Hu!”
These were the only words they could distinguish amid that terrible howling.
The professor had been agitated, but now he was the first to recover.
“That cry, ‘Hu, ya Hu,’ means ‘God, oh God,’” he explained. “It is the cry of the howling dervishes. Look – there is the open door of a temple, and the sounds come from within. It is shortly after midday prayer on Friday, which is the time for the howlers to do their work.”
“Well, of all howling I ever heard, that sure is about the most hair lifting,” declared Buckhart.
They were compelled to pass the open door of the temple or turn back, and they decided to keep on.
As they slipped past, they obtained a peep within the place. They saw a number of dancing, whirling, twisting, writhing men within, apparently in a perfect frenzy – stamping their feet on the floor and yelling madly, their lips covered with foam and their eyes closed. Others were stretched prone on the floor. Some were sitting about beating on drums and playing queer instruments.
That was all they saw, for they dared not linger to look into the place, had they so desired.
They had not proceeded much farther when Buckhart stopped, a look of gloom in his eyes.
“Whatever are we going to do?” he inquired.
“We must get out of the city just as fast as we can,” declared Gunn. “By this time it must be known that we escaped from the hotel and how we escaped.”
“That’s a fact,” nodded Dick.
“But we can’t leave the city without Nadia and her brother,” protested Brad. “We can’t leave them here in this nest of crazy fools, to be butchered!”
“We must leave them to Assouan,” said Merriwell. “I believe he will get them out of Damascus.”
“I don’t know about that – I doubt it! He skipped in a hurry to save his own black head.”
“For which we cannot blame him greatly. What have we done that he should risk his life as far as he did for us?”
“Why, we sort of resuscitated his old master when the whole bunch thought him killed.”
“And for that Ras al Had sent Assouan back into Damascus, with instructions to aid us in escaping from the city, if possible. Assouan stuck by us longer than I thought he would. But after he left us it is probable he hurried to Nadia and Budthorne and guided them out of the city.”
“Mebbe so,” muttered Brad; “but I doubt it. I shan’t be for hiking out until I feel sure Nadia’s not waiting for us somewhere.”
“Unless we make all haste in escaping,” said the professor, “we shall not escape at all.”
“Why not?”
“As I said before, by this time it must be known that we escaped from the hotel in disguise.”
“Why?”
“Have you forgotten Miguel Bunol?” asked Dick.
“Thunder! I had forgotten him!”
“We left him in that closet.”
“Sure.”
“He must have been found ere this.”
“That’s right.”
“Although he was bound and gagged, he could hear what was going on in that room.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you see, he knows how we were disguised.”
“Straight goods.”
“And he hates us with an undying and deadly hatred. He will lose no time in telling the Turkish officers how we escaped. The city will be scoured for us. Every avenue of escape will be closed. Our disguise will be worse than useless as soon as Bunol talks. We shall be captured. Our heads will be chopped off as soon as the Turks can attend to the job.”
“Pretty bad,” admitted Buckhart grimly; “but, all the same, I hate to run for it, thinking all the while that we may be leaving Nadia and Budthorne to be murdered. Can’t we find them? Is there no way to – ”
“What show have we to find them by searching aimlessly through the streets, Brad?” said Dick. “Assouan hid them somewhere with a friend. Even the Turks might not find them, but they could have no trouble in finding us wandering about in the open streets. Be sensible, old man.”
The Texan surrendered at last.
“All right, pard,” he said; “we’ll get out of the city, but I’ll never forgive myself if any harm comes to Nadia.”
CHAPTER XXII – IN THE DESERT
Three days have passed, and it is morning on the desert. The huge, golden sun rose over the edge of the barren world, and its rays fell on a lonely camel train that was already on the move.
The camels were loaded with merchandise from the interior and bound for the port of Akka.
A noted Syrian merchant was in charge of the train. There were other Syrians, but most of the camel drivers were Arabs.
Mounted on one of the many camels were Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart, minus their disguises and wearing their own clothes.
Professor Gunn was swaying and rocking miserably on the back of another camel, his companion being one of the Syrians.
Brad Buckhart looked no less disconsolate than the professor, while the expression on Dick Merriwell’s face was not one of absolute satisfaction and contentment.
Brad was grumbling.
“Pard, I sure am a heap sore.”
“So am I,” admitted Dick. “Camel riding isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. It is enough to make any one sore.”
“I didn’t mean that I was sore in that way.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. I’m thinking that we were fooled a plenty.”
“How do you mean?”
“By that old black wretch, Assouan.”
“Go on.”
“Haven’t you thought the same thing?”
“Perhaps so; but go ahead and tell me just what you have thought.”
“Why, you know how Assouan met us at the city’s gate just as we were escaping from Damascus.”
“I know.”
“He told us he had hustled Nadia and Budthorne out of the town and sent them off on fleet horses, guided by Gumar, to join Ras al Had’s train.”
“Correct.”
“And having but one good horse, which he was riding, he could not provide for us and help us overtake them.”
“So he said.”
“Having given us that game of talk, he induced us to follow him and got us into this merchant train, bound for Akka and the coast.”
“Which seems lucky for us – ”
“Then,” cut in the Texan. “Now – ”
“Well, at least, we escaped being seized and beheaded. It is plain Assouan kept his promise when he said he would try to put the Turks on a false scent, and so give us a chance for our lives.”
Brad shook his head.
“Mebbe he did. Anyhow, he didn’t tell these people who we were, and you happened to have money enough on you to induce the old rascal at the head of the train to take us along. He knew there was trouble in Damascus, and that foreigners were in danger, but he didn’t know the full truth. Had he, I opine he would have dodged us a heap. I judge he’s getting some suspicious of us now, and he wishes he hadn’t bothered any with us, for all of the money.”
“He did act queerly last night,” admitted Dick. “He tried to question me. I think he has been talking with the professor and the professor has talked too much. But, then, we are now some distance from Damascus.”
“All the same, Dick, you know we won’t be safe until we get out of this infernal country. But I don’t propose to leave until I know what has become of Nadia.”
“Assouan promised to bring us together.”
“And I am beginning to believe he lied!”
“What?”
“I’m afraid the black rascal fooled us.”
“Why should he?”
“Why shouldn’t he? They’re none of them to be trusted. Nadia is a beautiful girl.”
“Well?”
“In this country very beautiful girls are worth as much as five thousand dollars each.”
Dick was startled.
“Oh, you’re wrong, Brad, in thinking Assouan would play such a trick! He wouldn’t dare.”
“Why not?”
“Ras al Had is his master – ”
“And Ras al Had is a fugitive himself. If caught, he will lose his head for killing Hafsa Pasha. Assouan may have feared the sheik before that happened, but fear cannot keep Assouan loyal to Ras al Had now.”
Dick realized that this was true.
“And do you fancy Assouan would carry Nadia off with the intention of selling her?”
“I fear it, partner, and that’s what’s disturbing me a plenty.”
Dick thought for some moments on what had taken place. Finally he shook his head decisively.
“I am not willing to believe that,” he declared. “Somehow, I am confident that Assouan is faithful as a dog to Ras al Had. He put himself to altogether too much trouble about us, in case he were otherwise. Even after getting Nadia and her brother out of Damascus, he turned back to look for us.”
“But he deserted us in the street at a critical moment.”
“Because, as he frankly stated, he believed we were lost, and he could do nothing to save us. Had he attempted to do anything, he would have sacrificed himself and left Nadia and Dunbar still helpless in the trap.”
“Well, it may be he’s on the square; but it certain seems to me he’s had time to keep his word and show up with Nadia before this.”
At this moment there were signs of confusion in the train. The camel drivers in advance halted and uttered strange cries. Others took it up. Those cries produced still greater confusion, which seemed like consternation.
“What is it?” asked Brad.
Dick shaded his eyes and peered away across the broken waste of desert.
“Horsemen!” he exclaimed. “There is a large body of mounted men coming toward us from the north.”
“Sure thing,” said the Texan, discerning them. “I wonder if Assouan is going to make good at last!”
The horsemen came on rapidly, a tiny cloud of dust rising behind them. Soon they were near enough to enable the men of the camel train to discover an interesting thing concerning them.
“Bedouins!” was the cry.
Both of the American boys had heard of those desert wanderers and marauders, but now, for the first time, they beheld genuine wild Bedouins at home.
The Syrians and Arabs of the train seemed in great fear and consternation, for they saw the approaching body of men outnumbered them, and it was impossible to know the purpose of the wild horsemen.
The Bedouins wore loose, flowing garments and hoods on their heads. They were all armed to the teeth, as is the habit of the desert Bedouin.
Dick was thrilled by the picturesque spectacle. He had seen pictures of Bedouin riders, and he was forced to confess that he was not disappointed in the real article.
The merchants huddled their loaded camels together and waited in helpless suspense for what was to take place.
Without waiting for his camel to kneel, Zenas Gunn slid down to the ground, risking both neck and limb, and fell sprawling. He gathered himself up and rushed forward to Dick and Brad.
“We’re all going to be murdered!” he spluttered. “Those wretches are going to kill us and plunder the train!”
Dick forced the camel to kneel, after the manner of camel drivers, a trick he had learned by observation. Down went one end of the beast, flinging the boys forward and forcing them to hold fast with all their strength; then down went the other end, hurling them back and snapping their teeth together.
After that they stepped off.
“It is useless to resist!” moaned the professor. “We have no chance against those wretches! Oh, boys, this is the end – the awful end!”
“You’ve lost your nerve again, professor,” said Dick. “Brace up. Let’s not die until we have to.”
The Bedouins had halted at some distance. For a moment they huddled together, and then out from the mass of horsemen rode one, whose bearing was that of a leader.
Alone and unattended, this man fearlessly rode toward the train. Grasping his gun in the middle, he lifted it high above his head with one hand, a signal which the merchant at the head of the train seemed to understand, for he slowly advanced to meet the wild chief.
The chief was a handsome man at a distance, being of unusual size and wearing the barbaric garments and decorations of his people. He had a jet-black beard, and there was something uncommon about his features. The horse he bestrode was a clean-limbed, fiery animal.
“If I had my camera now!” exclaimed Dick; “but that camera by this time is in Alexandria, with the rest of our baggage, which we sent on ahead of us.”
“I wonder what’s up,” muttered Brad. “The Syrians are mightily disturbed.”
“Perhaps the Bedouins are going to demand tribute, and the merchants do not wish to pay.”
“Is that a custom?”
“I don’t know; but it seems that those armed wanderers could hold up a train like this and get everything they asked.”
The chief was seen speaking with the merchant. In a few moments the latter turned, saw Dick and his friends, and called:
“Mr. Merriwell is wanted.”
“What’s that?” gasped Buckhart, in the greatest amazement. “Did you hear it, pard? Did he say you were wanted?”
“That’s what he said,” nodded Dick.
Professor Gunn began to shake and choke.
“Richard, oh, Richard!” he exclaimed huskily. “These wild men have been sent to search the desert for you and take you back to Damascus! You are lost!”
“Great grizzlies!” burst from the Texan. “Is it possible that can be correct?”
“It may be,” said Dick quietly.
“Well, don’t you surrender!” panted the Texan. “I’ll back you up, pard. We’ll die with our boots on, fighting to the last ditch! We’re both armed.”
“Alone, the two of us would stand no show against those warriors of the desert,” said Dick. “However, let’s not borrow trouble. Let’s find out if there really is any trouble coming.”
Saying which, he boldly walked out.
The Bedouin chief gazed in silence at the advancing boy, while the Syrian merchant hastened to say:
“Here is the lad for whom thou hast called, Ali Beha. Take him and do thy will.”
Brad had followed Dick, while the old professor timidly brought up the rear.
The men of the train watched in anxious silence.
Buckhart heard the words of the Syrians, and immediately he plunged a hand into a pocket where his revolver lay.
“There you have it, Dick!” he half snarled. “Now you know what’s coming! Ready for business!”
Merriwell made a calm, restraining gesture.
“Steady, old man,” he flung over his shoulder. “Let’s talk to Ali Beha and find out what he’s going to do. That is the best plan. Then possibly we’ll raise an objection. Better not be too hasty.”
Experience and the example of his brother Frank had taught Dick to keep his head in times of peril.
As usual, Buckhart was ready to fight. For all of the apparent peril, he was undaunted. Beyond question, he was rash and reckless; but to his credit it must be said that he was ready to surrender his life in defense of his rights and his friend.
There was not one drop of cowardly blood in Brad’s body. If, on account of his assumed bluster and swagger, any one took him for a chap who would show the white feather in a pinch, that person was certain to be surprised and quite upset.
At school a few of the boys had fancied the Texan to be a bluffer, but when they had attempted to “call him,” he had given them, one and all, a setback by “making good.” Physical injury in a fist fight had never daunted him, and now, in the face of possible death, he was just as nervy and indifferent to the result.
Once on a time Dick Merriwell had been impulsive, reckless and thoughtless, but he had learned to govern himself and to consider the consequences of any act. This had changed him greatly. Not that he had lost a whit of courage, but courage is not mere reckless thoughtlessness. The really brave man is the one who considers the consequences, realizes the full extent of the peril, and then calmly faces it.
It is possible that association with Brad, whom he often found it necessary to restrain, had tended to make Dick more conservative and careful, for he realized that two reckless persons who spur each other on are certain to commit many follies.
So Merriwell warned his chum against haste and then turned to the chief of the Bedouins to talk the matter over.
“You have called for me,” he said. “I am here. What do you want?”
Ali Beha was still surveying the calm, clear-eyed American lad with deep interest. He took his time about answering Dick’s question.
“Thou art very young,” he finally observed.
“Which is not an answer to my question,” retorted Dick.
“Thou art a mere boy.”
The Bedouin seemed disappointed.
“Acknowledged,” nodded Dick. “What does Ali Beha want of a mere boy and a stranger in this land?”
“Thou hast friends near?”
“Two of them are with me.”
“But there are others?”
“Possibly.”
“They assisted thee in leaving Damascus?”
“Yes.”
“But they are not with thee now?”
“Do you come from them?” asked Dick quickly.
“It is even so,” declared the chief. “Thy friend sent me.”
“You mean – Name him!”
“I can speak no names. I am directed to bring thee and thy companions.”
Dick turned to Brad, speaking in a low tone:
“He must be from Ras al Had. The old sheik sent him for us.”
“I reckon you’re right, pard,” nodded the Texan, the cloud having left his face. “At last we have heard from Ras.”
Professor Gunn placed a still quivering hand on Dick’s arm.
“Be cautious, Richard,” he warned. “I am afraid of these wild men. It is said that they are very treacherous. Better ask him openly if he comes from the sheik.”
“He has said that he can call no names. It is evident that Ras al Had has taken precautions. In case he is captured and condemned for slaying Hafsa Pasha, he does not wish to associate us with him in that business, and so his name is not to be mentioned before these Syrians.”
“You have figured it out, partner,” put in Buckhart. “I opine we’ve had our little scare for nothing. The sheik has sent for us in his own way, and we’ll be liable to find Nadia and Budthorne by accompanying the Bedouins.”
Ali Beha remained passive and apparently indifferent while they were talking this matter over.
Dick turned once more to the chief.
“How far away are our friends?” he asked.
“Beyond the horizon,” was the answer.
“You will take us to them?”
The Bedouin bowed.
“I have come to do so,” he declared.
“That settles it,” laughed Buckhart. “I judge we’re ready and willing to go.”
The prospect of soon joining Nadia filled the Texan with enthusiasm and relief.
“All right,” said Dick. “We’ll soon be ready.”
He then turned to the Syrian merchant, whom he thanked for such favors as they had received.
The merchant made a deprecatory gesture and declared that it was nothing, which he well might have done, considering the fact that he had been well paid for those favors.
It did not take our friends long to make arrangements for accompanying the waiting Bedouins.
The people of the train were greatly relieved, and they lost no time in preparing to move onward once more.
As Dick, Brad, and the professor followed Ali Beha, they looked back and saw the head of the train already in motion, with the camel drivers and their loaded “ships of the desert” falling into line in regular order.
“I certain am plenty glad to abandon camel riding,” grinned Brad. “I’d rather ride a pitching cayuse than a hump-backed camel, for a bucker won’t buck forever, while a camel does keep up that rocking, swaying, back-breaking movement just as long as he travels. I suppose one might get used to it in time, but I’d rather be excused some.”
As they drew near the Bedouins they discovered that the men who had seemed so picturesque at a distance were unkempt and dirty, although none the less fierce on close inspection.
These wild men regarded our friends with an air of curious contempt. There was nothing of friendliness in their manner.
Arrangements were quickly made for the boys and the professor to mount behind three of the Bedouins. Zenas was assisted to his seat behind a thin, dirty chap, and told to cling fast to the man by clasping him around the body. This the old pedagogue did, although he made a wry face over it.
Dick could not wonder at Gunn’s repulsion, for he, also, found himself mounted behind an unkempt rascal, whose matted hair and beard looked as if it might be infested, and who gave forth anything but an agreeable odor.
When all were ready, the Bedouins uttered a yell, and, with their chief in advance, went tearing across the barren country.
That was a ride long to be remembered. Mile after mile was covered at high speed by the spirited horses. When the animals bearing double burdens showed signs of flagging, the Bedouins halted and our friends changed to other horses.
The sun grew hot and beat upon them with baking fierceness. The air was dry and their throats parched. The country became wilder and wilder. Once they saw another camel train in the distance.
At last they entered a hilly region, where there was more vegetation. Finally, from an elevation, they saw before them a group of black tents, not far from which, in a valley, were some herds.
Straight toward the square black tents rode the Bedouins. As they approached a number of their own people were seen waiting for them.
Buckhart was craning his neck and peering over the shoulder of his companion on horseback, hoping to obtain a glimpse of Nadia; but no female was to be seen about the encampment.
With a yell the desert Nomads swept down to the camp and leaped from their horses, which they immediately turned over to the care of other men.
Professor Gunn was exhausted, and he reeled like an intoxicated man as soon as he stood upon his feet.
Dick looked around searchingly. Ali Beha appeared before him.
“Where are our friends?” impatiently asked the boy.
“Peace,” said the chief. “Thou should not be impatient. Before thou canst see them it is necessary that thou shouldst be searched for hidden weapons.”
Merriwell took a step forward, assailed by sudden forebodings and suspicions. He saw the fierce-looking men gathered close about them, each with weapons ready for use.
Buckhart, also, was startled and aroused. He pressed to Dick’s side, hissing:
“Something crooked, pard! I’m afraid we’re trapped!”
“Why should we be disarmed?” demanded Dick. “We are harmless and – ”
“It is the rule,” said Ali Beha grimly. “No one not of our people shall be permitted to carry arms while among us. There can be no exception for thee.”
“It sure is a trap!” whispered the Texan. “If we give up our arms, we’re goners!”
Dick thought swiftly, and he decided at once that resistance was folly. Were they to attempt it, they would be crushed, perhaps murdered, in a twinkling.
“We’re in your hands, Ali Beha,” he said. “We have trusted you, and we must continue to do so.”
Immediately our friends were searched by the Bedouins and deprived of their weapons.
Ali Beha stood with folded arms and watched.
The professor made no remonstrance, but on his face there was a look of helpless despair that was pitiful to see.
Buckhart was pale, his lips pressed together and his jaw squared.
Dick’s dark eyes flashed and his nostrils dilated. Although he submitted without another word of protest, there were resentment and anger in his pose.
“It is well,” said the chief.
“Now, where are our friends?” cried Merriwell suddenly. “We wish to see them. Have you deceived us?”
“Thou shalt see that I have not. The friend who sent for thee is in yonder tent. He is waiting to greet thee. Enter.”
The chief made a sweeping gesture toward one of the larger tents.
Both Dick and Brad started toward this tent, but immediately the Texan was stopped, while the chief informed him that he was not to enter.
“If there’s any trouble, pard,” said Buckhart, “just raise the war cry. I’ll try to join you.”
Dick nodded and walked into the tent, the flap of which he was compelled to lift.
A single person occupied the tent. He was sitting on a mat at the rear, smoking a cigarette. His garments were Turkish and there was a fez on his head. About him there was something familiar.
A muttered exclamation of surprise rose to Dick’s lips. Dropping the tent flap behind him, he stepped quickly forward. As he did so the cigarette smoker lifted his head, and young Merriwell was face to face with Miguel Bunol!