He gave over his efforts and fell to watching the dancers. They were very graceful, but he remembered that Coddington had spoken carelessly of them, declaring that the favorites of the harem were far more beautiful. To Zenas it seemed that the so-called favorites were big, husky ladies, while their free-and-easy manners, and their slang, filled him with aversion. He had fancied the beauties of a harem to be something entirely different from the ones who were boldly embracing him. And one of them had confessed that she had changed husbands sixteen times—or more! This in a land where he had supposed a man could have a number of wives, but that no wife ever had more than one husband. The glamour of the harem was fast wearing off, as far as Zenas Gunn, of Fardale, was concerned. Already he was beginning to think he had seen quite enough of it. Fake and Fraud were not inclined to keep still long. The former began to dally with the professor’s whiskers, running her fingers through them and pulling them playfully. “Pretty! pretty!” she cooed. “Ba-a-a-a!” bleated Fraud, like a goat. “Wind go z-z-z-z-z.” “Quit your fooling!” half snarled the fretted old fellow, pushing Fake’s hand away. Her gloved fingers seemed to catch in his whiskers and give them a fearful yank, as he thrust her hand aside. He howled with pain. “Nice hair,” commented Fraud, giving a pull at the professor’s wig and jerking it off. “Oh, see! Hair all loose! He look funny now!” “Gimme that!” panted the professor, snatching at the wig; but Fraud thrust it back of her, laughing mockingly behind her heavy veil. She was strong, astonishingly strong. He found he could not recover the wig by force, so he gave over the attempt. “That nice,” said Fake. “Behave, old Lobster. Pretty teeth. Bite Fake’s little finger.” Before he even suspected her purpose she thrust her finger into his mouth. In some manner she caught hold of his upper set of false teeth and jerked them out. Then both favorites uttered exclamations of seeming surprise and merriment, while the triumphant Fake held the extracted set of teeth above her head. “Him fine!” she cried. “Hair come off! Teeth come out! Old Lobster lots funny!” “We take old Lobster all to pieces,” said Fraud. “Come on, Fake. Take him eyes out next.” “Hold on, both of you!” frothed Zenas. “Don’t you dare carry thish thing any farsher! Gimme my wig! Gimme me my teesh! Hand ’em over, or shomebody going to get hurt!” By this time he was greatly enraged, but he found himself almost helpless in the hands of the favorites. The dancing girls were continuing their gyrations, but he knew they were laughing. He felt that he had been robbed of his dignity and humiliated, and he was eager to take flight from the harem. Again and again he sought to struggle up, but Fake and Fraud pulled him back and held him. “Oh, good old Lobster!” they cooed. “We love old Lobster. Him great joke.”