Dick Merriwell's Pranks: or, Lively Times in the Orient

CHAPTER V – IN THE CEMETERY

When Pera was swept by fire but one thing in the burned portion remained practically unchanged. It was an old cemetery. It is there to-day, in the midst of the city of modern buildings, and this cemetery was the spot chosen by Aziz Achmet for the duel.

To this old graveyard in the dusky light of morning came three persons. One was an old man, haggard and pallid; the others were boys. The boys each carried a basket carefully covered by a cloth.

Professor Gunn had scarcely closed his eyes in sleep that night. He tried to sleep, but his “medicine” ran out, and without its soothing influence he wooed slumber in vain. During the greater part of the night he had walked the floor of his room or sat writing at a little table.

Beneath the dismal cypress trees which filled the cemetery it was still quite dark.

“Boys,” whispered the professor, as they paused on the point of entering, “can you see anything of them?”

“Can’t see much of anything,” answered Dick, “only what looks like a lot of drunken ghosts.”

In truth the graveyard seemed filled with reeling, ghostly forms, but, on closer inspection, these were found to be tombstones. The human appearance of these lurching stones was explained on closer examination, for it is the custom of the Turks to carve the stone above the grave of every man so that its top is crowned either with a turban or a fez. Seen in a dim light, the tilted stones looked remarkably like staggering human forms, robed in white.

“Boo!” muttered Buckhart, shrugging his broad shoulders. “This sure is a spooky old place.”

Both boys heard a sudden sound like rattling dice. They discovered it came from the professor, whose teeth were chattering loudly.

“Keep a stiff backbone, professor,” advised Dick. “It will all be over in a short time.”

“Ye-yes,” faltered Zenas, “it will all bub-bub-be over fuf-fuf-for me. Richard, I fuf-fuf-feel that I am gug-gug-going to fuf-fuf-fall.”

“Nonsense! Why, you were bold as a lion last night when Achmet called.”

“Bub-bub-but that was lul-lul-last nun-nun-night,” chattered the shaking old fellow. “Besides, I had tut-tut-taken some tut-tut-tonic. I wush I ha-ha-had sus-sus-some nun-nun-now.”

“It sure is a shame you ran out of tonic,” said Brad. “But you won’t be any good whatever unless you get a brace on. You’ve got to fight Fitts now.”

“Yes, you’ll have to give him fits,” said Dick, making a poor pun. “You can’t back out without being branded as a coward, after which you’d never again dare look at your own reflection in a mirror.”

“I know it,” sighed Zenas; “but I was a fool to be so bub-brave last night! That woman is responsible for it all! If I dud-dud-die, my blood will be on her head!”

“But you’re not going to fall,” declared Buckhart.

They finally succeeded in leading him into the gloom of the cemetery, and he seemed greatly relieved when they ascertained beyond doubt that Major Fitts and his second had not arrived.

“Perhaps they won’t come at all,” said the old pedagogue eagerly.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Dick; “but I wouldn’t count on that, for I believe Achmet will bring the major.”

But the professor was hopeful as well as anxious. He watched the gray light of morning sifting through the cypress branches and bringing out the ghostly tombstones with more and more distinctness. Then he began to fear.

“I – I think there is no doubt about it,” he said, at last. “He is not coming, boys. He’s a bluffer. He tried to bluff me, but he failed.”

Having arrived at this conclusion, he rapidly grew indignant.

“This thing is outrageous!” he blustered – “outrageous, I say! Why, the craven little whipper-snapper! Just think of it, he hasn’t the courage to come here like a man and meet me in mortal combat! He is a coward – that’s what he is, a coward! A fire eater, indeed! Bah! The next time I meet him, I shall tweak his nose! Yes, sir, tweak it!”

In the dim, gray light Dick and Brad exchanged glances. Neither laughed, but both felt like it.

“I’m tired of waiting,” declared Zenas. “The time is past. He isn’t coming, and we may as well return to the hotel.”

“I think we had better wait a little longer,” urged Dick.

“But what’s the use. It’s morning now, and that craven from Mississippi is not on hand. I’ll warrant he is hiding beneath his bed this very minute.”

“I opine you’re mistaken, professor,” said Brad dryly. “If I ain’t a heap mistaken, here he comes now.”

“Where?” gasped Zenas.

“There,” said the Texan, motioning toward three dim figures which were entering the cemetery and approaching. “I reckon it’s Major Fitts, accompanied by two friends.”

“Oh, Lordy!” groaned the professor, growing limp and leaning on Dick’s shoulder, all the bluster taken out of him in a second.

Once more Merriwell urged the old pedagogue to brace up.

“Don’t let him see you’re afraid,” he urged. “Do stiffen up, professor!”

“Richard,” groaned Zenas, “I had a premonition that my time had come. Here, Richard, take these papers. One is my last will and testament. The other is a fond adieu to my wife. Poor Nancy! how I pity her! She’ll never see me again! Tell her how I perished, Richard. Perhaps some time – when I’m gone – you may think – of me. It is a fearful thing – to perish – in a foreign land – far from – the loved ones – at home.”

The old man choked and could speak no more.

The three persons were now quite near, and by the dim light the boys could recognize the short figure of Major Fitts. Aziz Achmet had the major by the arm and seemed talking to him earnestly in low tones. The third man carried a small hand case, and seemed like a surgeon.

Fitts and the surgeon stopped a short distance away, while Achmet advanced swiftly, with his usual soft step.

“I see you are here, gentlemen,” he said.

“We are,” returned Dick; “but we began to think you were not coming. Professor Gunn is anxious to have this affair over in order that he may take a bath before breakfast.”

“A bath!” said the Turk. “Before breakfast?”

“Yes; he always has his morning shower or sponge.”

“But he may not need one this morning.”

“I reckon he will,” muttered Buckhart, to himself. “If Fitts’ aim is any good, the professor sure will need one a heap.”

“Major Fitts,” said Achmet, “is inclined to be magnanimous.”

“Indeed?” said Dick questioningly.

“Yes; he wishes me to say that he has no real desire to slay one of his own countrymen.”

“Kind of him!”

“And, therefore, if Professor Gunn will apologize, he will overlook the insult and spare him.”

“I – I think I had better do it, Richard!” whispered Zenas.

“Mr. Achmet,” said Dick stiffly, “you will kindly inform Major Fitts that he has quite misunderstood the situation. Tell him that unless he immediately apologizes in the most humble manner Professor Gunn insists that the affair be carried through to the bitter end.”

“To the bitter end!” put in Buckhart. “That’s the stuff!”

The Turk bowed.

“Then there is nothing else to be done but to arrange the preliminaries. I will speak to the major a moment.”

As soon as Achmet’s back was turned the professor seized Dick and almost sobbed in his ear:

“Richard, Richard, why did you do it? My blood will be on your head!”

“Hush!” returned Dick. “Don’t you see the major is frightened worse than you are? Achmet has dragged him here, and he’s ready to take to his heels and run for his life.”

“Wh-what?” gasped Zenas, straightening up as if electrified. “Are you sure?”

“No question about it. Achmet is having a difficult time to hold him now.”

It was a fact that Mowbry Fitts was very much disturbed. He protested that there might be a mutual understanding through which the affair could be dropped. All the way to the cemetery he had hoped that the professor would not be there and would fail to appear. He now declared that Achmet was responsible for the whole wretched affair.

“It is a shame that two highly intelligent men, two eminently respectable citizens of a great and glorious country, should meet here, suh, in this wretched old cemetery, suh, and slaughter each other in cold blood,” he said.

Achmet shrugged his shoulders.

“I am quite surprised in you,” he declared. “I thought you a brave man. The other American is waiting and anxious. If you show the white feather now, you will be branded the rest of your life as a coward.”

At last the major seemed to brace up. He announced that he was ready for the worst.

By this time it had grown quite light outside, although there were still deep shadows in the cemetery.

Again Achmet turned to the professor and the boys.

“We are ready,” he said. “Where are the weapons?”

The surgeon was kneeling on the ground, having opened his case. He was laying out his instruments on a white cloth.

“If you are ready, we are,” said Dick. “The weapons are in these baskets. You may select either basket you choose. Let the major remove his coat in order that his arms may be free and unhampered. Professor, strip.”

Smothering a groan, Zenas permitted Brad to assist him in removing his coat. Major Fitts also took his coat off.

Achmet hesitated when invited to choose one of the baskets. He feared a trick and inquired if the weapons in one basket were identical with those in the other. Dick assured him that there was not the slightest difference.

“I selected them myself with the greatest care,” asserted the boy. “They are good and strong.”

“And rank,” muttered Buckhart softly.

“Let the major and the professor stand ten paces apart,” said Dick. “At that distance, they should be able to hit each other once in three shots, at least. Let them begin firing at the word and continue until one or the other falls, cries enough, or the ammunition is exhausted. Brad, pace the distance.”

Buckhart did so promptly, but his paces were very short. He made a mark with his heel for Zenas and another to indicate the position of the major.

In the meantime Achmet had selected one of the baskets and carried it to the point where his principal was to stand. Dick placed the other near the spot marked for the professor. Neither of the duelists knew the sort of weapons decided on, and both watched with great anxiety the uncovering of the baskets.

Taking note of Achmet’s movements, Dick removed the cloth from the professor’s basket at the same moment that the Turk lifted the covering of the other basket.

Both baskets were filled with eggs!

“Eggs?” gasped Fitts.

“Eggs?” breathed Gunn.

“Eggs-actly,” chuckled Brad Buckhart.

“Why, I – I don’t understand!” faltered the professor.

“What does this mean, gentlemen?” demanded the major. “Will yo’ kindly explain it?”

“Having the choice of weapons,” said Dick, “I decided on eggs, good and rank. Here they are. Only fools fight duels over trivial things with deadly weapons. With these eggs you cannot kill each other, but you can soak each other to your hearts’ content and thus satisfy your wounded honor.”

“But, suh, I never heard of such a thing, suh!” exploded Fitts. “It is ridiculous!”

“All right,” returned Dick. “If you object, I have brought these.”

He produced two huge pistols.

“One,” continued Dick, “is loaded. The other is not. You shall toss for choice. Then you shall stand at arm’s length, place the pistols against each other’s breast, and pull the triggers at the word. A moment later one of you will be a dead man, while the other will be unharmed. Does that suit you better, major?”

“It’s unusual – decidedly unusual, suh! No, suh, it does not suit me at all, suh! I prefer the eggs.”

“Good!” whispered Zenas. “So do I!”

“Then take your positions, gentlemen,” ordered Dick.

Aziz Achmet threw up his hands, shaking his head in a baffled manner.

“Oh, these Americans, these Americans!” he muttered, retreating. “I had hoped they might destroy each other, which would save me further trouble with them. Now they are going to fight a duel with rotten eggs! Pah!”

The surgeon hastily threw his instruments into the case, which he closed and picked up, also retreating to get out of probable danger of being hit by one of those eggs.

The professor and the major got ready for action. Each picked up as many eggs as he could hold in his left hand and took one in his right.

“Are you ready, gentlemen?” asked Dick, also backing off a little, an example followed by Brad.

“Ready!” answered both.

“Then – fire!”

Whizz! Spat!

The major missed, but the professor’s aim was accurate, and he struck Fitts fairly in the centre of his white shirt bosom. The man from Mississippi staggered and clapped his hand to his nose.

“Oh, whew! Oh, murder!” he gasped. “That was not an egg! If it was it was laid two thousand years ago!”

Whizz! – another one flew past the major’s ear. This aroused him, and he got into action once more. Eggs flew through the air with increasing rapidity. While stooping to get a fresh supply of ammunition from his basket, Zenas was struck fairly on top of his bald head. The yellow mass spattered in all directions.

A strong odor filled the air, reaching the nostrils of both Dick and Brad, who were laughing heartily.

“Great horn spoon!” gurgled the Texan. “For a duel this sure beats! Look at ’em, pard! The professor got it in the neck that time! There – he hit the major! They’ll be sights in a minute!”

Dick was laughing in his old, rollicking way.

“Oh, ha, ha, ha! Go it, professor! Soak him! That’s the way! Ha, ha, ha!”

Never had that grim and gloomy cemetery resounded with such shouts of merriment.

“Oh, I’ll fix him!” cried Zenas. “I’ll teach him a lesson! I’ll teach him to challenge me! I’ll – Murder! I’m blinded!”

In truth he had been struck fairly between the eyes, and the mass that spattered over his face completely blinded him.

“Teach me, will yo’, suh?” triumphantly shouted the major. “Oh, I don’t know!”

Dick was gasping for breath.

“Brad, it’s t-too much!” he laughed, holding onto his sides. “Ha, ha, ha! It’s too much!”

Professor Gunn wiped his sleeve across his eyes. Then he tried the other sleeve and succeeded in clearing them.

“Have yo’ got enough, suh?” demanded the major. “Cry quits, suh, if yo’ have.”

“Never – never while I live!” grated Zenas.

“Then I’ll have to finish yo’, suh. I offered yo’ – ”

He said no more, for at that instant an egg thrown with all the force Zenas Gunn could command struck him full and fair in the mouth.

The little man went down as if shot.

“Whee!” shrilled the professor. “Got him then!”

Fitts kicked and floundered and then rolled over on his stomach, lifting himself to his hands and knees. The sounds he emitted were trying on those who heard him.

At this juncture two ladies suddenly appeared on the scene, having approached during the excitement without being observed. They were Sarah Ann Ketchum and an Englishwoman whom she had found in the hotel and induced to accompany her to the scene of the duel.

Major Fitts had written her a passionate note of farewell, telling her about the duel, where it was to be fought and when. This he had intrusted to a servant to be delivered that morning. The servant had not waited for Miss Ketchum to rise, but had rapped at her door until she got up and received the message. When she comprehended its contents she lost not a moment in dressing and getting the other woman to accompany her to the scene of the “deadly” meeting.

When she saw Major Fitts on his hands and knees, giving utterance to those distressing and terrible sounds, she shrieked and ran forward.

“Oh, heavens!” she cried. “He is slain! He is wounded unto death! He is dying! Hear him gurgle, and groan, and gasp for breath! It is a horrible tragedy!”

“Great horn spoon!” exclaimed Buckhart. “Sarah Ann is on deck, pard.”

“She has arrived too late to prevent the fearful deed,” said Dick.

The lady from Boston saw Professor Gunn. She shook her clenched hands at him and screamed:

“You murderer! You have killed the poor major! You have slain the idol of my heart!”

“Great Cæsar!” gasped Zenas. “So she acknowledged that human wart as the idol of her heart! Well, she may take her idol, eggs and all!”

Sarah Ann fell on her knees beside the major, clasping him in her arms.

“Poor, poor hero!” she sobbed. “Tell me where you are wounded.”

“Fo’ the love of goodness, go ’way!” gurgled Fitts thickly.

“What is this horrid odor?” she exclaimed chokingly. “It is frightful!”

“Turkish cemeteries always smell that way, madam,” huskily declared the major. “Please go ’way! Please let me die in peace!”

“Never! I will remain by you until the last! I will – But I can’t endure this terrible odor! I’m growing faint! And what is this sticky substance all over your clothes?”

“That’s blood – pure blood.”

She held up her hands. The light was now sufficient for her to see.

“But it’s not red – it’s yellow!”

“That’s the color of my blood, madam. I’ve had yellow fever. Do go ’way!”

“But it smells – it smells – Why, it’s everywhere! It’s on the ground!”

“I’ve shed gallons of it already. I beg yo’ to leave me!”

“And those brutes are permitting you to bleed to death! What monsters!”

She began to grow hysterical. The language she applied to the professor made him wince. It also aroused his resentment. When she repeatedly called him a murderer he finally decided that the limit had been reached. Prancing over to her, he shrilly cried:

“Madam, you are needlessly wasting your sympathy on that little runt. He’s not seriously harmed, I assure you. We did fight a duel, and I am the victor; but we did not engage with deadly weapons, and Major Fitts is not dying.”

“Not dying? Did not use deadly weapons? Why – why, what did you use?”

“Eggs, madam – rotten eggs; and I am proud to say that I pasted him with them in a most scientific manner.”

“Eggs?” screamed Miss Ketchum, springing up and looking at her besmeared hands. “Rotten eggs? Then this is not his blood!”

“Hardly,” assured Zenas.

“Oh, horrible! Disgusting! It is perfectly shameful and outrageous! Look at my hands! Look at my waist! And the smell! I’m going to faint! Catch me!”

“Not on your life!” exclaimed Gunn, backing off. “I’ve learned my little book.”

She did not faint. Instead, she stiffened up like a ramrod and denounced both the duelists in scathing and scornful terms. Once more she declared that both were fools, and finally she fled, accompanied by the Englishwoman.

CHAPTER VI – THE SIGHTS OF STAMBOUL

“Well, boys,” said Professor Gunn, some days later, as the trio were lounging in their rooms after the midday meal, “what do you think of Constantinople? Have you seen about enough of it?”

“Well, we have seen a great deal,” confessed Dick. “It is a fascinating and bewildering place, with its narrow, dirty streets, its swarms of people of many races, its veiled women, its dogs, its palaces and watch towers – in short, its thousands of strange sights.”

“It is a whole lot queer,” nodded Buckhart. “It gives me a right odd feeling to stand beside a mosque and see a muezzin come out on the balcony of a minaret and utter the call to prayer. The way he chants it kind of stirs something inside of me: ‘God is great; there is but one God; Mohammed is the prophet of God; prayer is better than sleep; come to prayer!’ Oh, I’ve got her all down fine, and I’ll never forget the words nor how they sound.”

“I suppose there are lots of places we have not seen, together with plenty of interesting things,” said Dick. “The thing that I’ll remember longest is the dance of the howling dervishes.”

“You bet that was a corker!” exclaimed the Texan, sitting up. “I opine I’ve got good nerves, but it certain came near driving me crazy to see them, a full dozen, just whirling and whirling like tops.”

“Then when they began to chant and howl!” said Dick. “The way they wailed, and groaned, and cried, ‘Allah, hough! Allah, hough!’ was enough to disturb nerves of steel.”

“But the finish was the worst, when all the whirlers had their eyes set and their lips covered with foam. No more howling-dervish shows for me!”

“Nor me, pard!”

“Well, when you youngsters get tired of Constantinople we’ll move on,” said Zenas.

“I sure would like to know whatever became of Major Fitts and Miss Ketchum,” said Brad.

“Never mind them!” exclaimed the professor hastily. “It was a great relief when they both took themselves out of this hotel after that – after that encounter in the cemetery.”

“After your bloody duel, professor,” laughed Dick. “That was a fearful encounter, from which you came forth the victor.”

“But somewhat damaged myself,” confessed Zenas. “Boys, you want to remember what will happen to you if you ever relate that affair to any one.”

Buckhart grinned.

“Miss Ketchum was some excited when she arrived on the scene of action. She thought the major was dying. I don’t wonder, for the sounds he emitted after being struck in the mouth by that egg sure sounded like he was coughing up the ghost.”

“She certainly was disgusted when she found the major’s yellow blood was smashed rotten eggs,” said Dick.

“She had the stuff all over her hands after putting her arms about him. Partner, that was a great racket!”

“Hum! haw!” coughed the professor. “Of course, on the major’s account I was willing to carry out the programme and use eggs, but it was beneath my dignity, and I should have preferred a regular duel with pistols or swords.”

“Professor!” exclaimed Dick. “Why, you know you were somewhat timid over the result before you learned what sort of weapons were to be used.”

“Because I did not wish to have human blood on my hands. It was entirely for Major Fitts that I was worried.”

“I opine,” said Brad, “that old Aziz Achmet was just about as disgusted as any one. It is my judgment that the old pirate wanted to see the professor and the major carve each other up, though just what his reason for it was I can’t say.”

“He disappeared at the same time when Sarah and the major vanished,” said Dick. “He was becoming a nuisance, and I thought we might have no end of trouble with him while in this place. However, I fancy he found out he was wasting his time spying on us. I’m still confident that Bunol and Marsh caused us to be placed under surveillance by the Turkish secret police.”

“The Turkish secret police?” exclaimed Zenas. “You don’t mean to say – ”

“There is such a body, and Aziz Achmet belonged to it. We were suspicious characters, and he watched us. But I have an idea that he finally decided that we were exactly what we represented ourselves to be, ordinary travelers. Miss Ketchum, however, belongs to a society that is seeking to investigate and correct the wrongs of the Armenians in Turkey, and, therefore, Achmet transferred his attention wholly to her.”

“Good gracious!” spluttered the professor. “Although she turned out to be a hatchet-faced old maid, I hope no harm has come to her in this heathen land.”

“Don’t you worry,” laughed Dick. “Major Fitts will look out for her. All I ask is that he keeps her away from us.”

“I don’t think the major wants to see us again,” chuckled Brad. “I’m sure he wouldn’t fancy having the story of that duel get back to Natchez, Mississippi.”

“Well, boys, shall we spend the afternoon in talk, or shall we go out and see something?” asked the professor.

They quickly decided that they were ready to go out, and once more rose the question of what they should see.

“I have it!” cried the old pedagogue.

“Name it,” urged Dick.

“The Underground Palace.”

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t heard of it? Good! It’s the very place for us to visit this day. Wait; I’ll send for Mustapha. Hope he’s not engaged, for we must go over into Stamboul, and I do not fancy visiting that place without a good guide and interpreter.”

“I should say not!” exclaimed Dick. “If ever there was a place just made to get lost in it’s Stamboul, with its maze of narrow, crooked, unnamed streets and unnumbered houses.”

“Correct, pard,” agreed Brad. “I can get lost quicker and a heap sight worse in Stamboul than on a trackless desert. We sure must take a dragoman if we’re going to amble over there.”

So the black Nubian, who seemed always waiting for a call, was summoned and instructed to send out for the dragoman engaged by Dick on their arrival, to pilot them from the steamer to their hotel.

In less than thirty minutes Mustapha appeared, salaming in true Turkish fashion, the tassel of his fez sweeping the floor.

“I here, effendi,” he said, addressing the professor. “What you haf of me?”

“We want to visit Stamboul.”

“I good dragoman. I guide you, effendi.”

“Our purpose is to see the great underground cistern sometimes called the Underground Palace.”

“Effendi, go not! Keep from there!” Mustapha showed great concern.

“Why should we not go there?” questioned the professor. “It is one of the great sights.”

“You haf for your life some valuement?”

“Certainly; but what can there be dangerous about a visit to the Underground Palace?”

“Maybe you haf not hear it, effendi?”

“Have not heard what?”

“One time some Engleeshman go there. They nefer come back.”

“What happened to them?”

Mustapha made a gesture with his hands indicative of vanishing into the air.

“Who answer it the question?” he said.

“Well, well!” muttered Zenas. “What do you think about this matter, boys?”

“My interest is aroused now,” answered Dick. “I want to see this mysterious place.”

“That’s right, pard. I’m sure some wrought up to see it myself. Of course we’ll go.”

“Too young to haf wisdom,” said Mustapha, with a gesture toward the boys.

“Come on, professor!” cried Dick. “If this dragoman will not act as guide for us, we can easily secure another.”

Instantly Mustapha hastened to assure them that he would be only too glad to act as their guide; but that they should pay him before visiting the Underground Palace, as they might never return, in which case he would lose his honestly earned due by neglecting to collect ahead.

They agreed to pay him in advance, and soon they set out from the hotel in Pera, eager to see the mysterious place that was said to hold so much of mystery and danger.

In the afternoon sunshine Stamboul was magnificent when seen from a distance. But when they had crossed the Golden Horn and plunged into the city all its impressiveness vanished. At intervals they came upon some splendid mosques, but mosques were far more impressive when seen from the proper distance.

Mustapha knew his business, and he conducted them to the place where they could descend and inspect the Underground Palace, but he declined to enter with them. For that purpose he called another man, with close-set, shifty eyes and a thin-lipped mouth.

“This dragoman, Bayazid,” he said. “He tak’ you.”

“Is he trustworthy?” asked the professor, with a slight show of nervousness.

“You not find one more so, effendi.”

So Bayazid, or “Pigeon,” as he was called in English, was engaged to show them the Underground Palace.

“I haf very good boat, effendi,” he declared.

“Whatever is that?” asked Buckhart. “Do we have to take a boat?”

“You will see,” answered Zenas.

The entrance was somewhat like that of a sewer, but there were stone steps leading down into the darkness of the place. The guide found and lighted two torches, which it seemed were kept for the use of those who wished to visit the Palace.

“Say, this is some boogerish!” said Brad, as they found themselves in a dark and damp cemented passage.

“The old city was built above a huge system of cisterns,” explained the professor. “Their purpose was to guard against a famine of water in time of war. Some of the old cisterns are dry now and are used by silk spinners. We shall visit one that still contains water.”

“But I thought we were going to see a palace,” said Dick, in disappointment.

“You shall see one – so called.”

The passage echoed to their tread, while their voices came back hollowly, as if hidden imps were mocking them.

But the boys were quite unprepared for the spectacle that suddenly met their gaze. They came from the passage into a mighty vaulted chamber, stretching away into an unknown distance and filled with a shadowy maze of marble columns, row on row. The floor of this wonderful place was smooth as a mirror and seemed black as ebony, save where the light of the torches fell on it. There it glittered, and gleamed, and shimmered.

Exclamations of astonishment and wonder broke from the lips of the two lads. The professor grasped them, one with either hand, and stopped them abruptly.

“We can’t go farther on foot,” he said.

“Eh? Why not?” asked the Texan, in surprise. “Look at that floor! Wouldn’t it be great to dance on! It’s smooth as glass and – ”

“You would get your feet wet if you attempted to dance on that,” declared Zenas.

“What? Why – why, it’s water!”

“Exactly.”

“But – but it looks black everywhere except where the light strikes directly on it.”

“Because no other ray of light reaches this place.”

Dick stooped and dipped his hand in the water, which reached to their very feet.

“Well, this is worth seeing!” he declared.

“This was constructed by Constantine more than fifteen hundred years ago,” explained the professor. “Think, boys, what you now behold is the work of man, yet it remains practically the same as when constructed fifteen centuries ago.”

“It looks like a partly submerged cathedral,” murmured Dick. “One can fancy all its worshipers and priests as drowned in that flood of black water. In fancy I seem to see their restless spirits floating above the surface of the lake, away, away yonder in the unknown distance. How large is it, professor?”