Dick had fancied the same. To him it seemed as if some dark figures left the steamer and slipped away into the gloom of the palms. Once something like a muffled cry came out across the water, but the wheezing of the steamer prevented them from hearing it distinctly. Even though it were a cry of some sort, they knew it might come from a night bird or a prowling wild beast amid the ruins of the ancient city. Suddenly and unexpectedly a bar of light shot out from the black hulk near the shore. It struck in their faces, dazzling and blinding them. Involuntarily they half crouched, while several of them reached for their weapons. “A searchlight!” exclaimed Dick. “We’ve found the yacht! Look out for trouble!” “There sure is liable to be some shooting!” breathed Buckhart; “and we’re mighty fine targets here in this light. Look out for bullets!” Then a voice hailed them. Some one called to them in Turkish. It was a challenge, although they did not understand the words. “Talk English,” cried Dick. “We don’t understand that lingo.” “No, we don’t savvy it any at all,” said Buckhart. “Are you trying to collide with me?” demanded a voice from behind the searchlight. “Keep off!” “He savvys United States all right,” said Brad, in deep satisfaction. “Now we can powwow with him.” The captain of the steamer gave a signal for the engineer to reverse his engines. “Who are you?” demanded Dick. “What right have you to ask?” was the indignant retort. “We take the right. Better answer.” “I am a peaceful individual seeking to get some sleep. Why do you come pounding in here with your noisy old boat and disturb my rest?” “He’s a whole lot saucy,” growled the Texan. “We are looking for a private yacht, owned by a Turkish gentleman,” explained Dick. “A Turkish gentleman—not!” muttered Buckhart. “You are friends?” was the inquiry from behind the source of the light. “Not exactly; but we have important business with the gentleman.” “What’s his name?” “What’s your name?” Dick was talking to give the captain time to bring the steamer alongside the yacht, which was no simple task under the circumstances. Evidently the unknown did not fancy Dick’s manner of speech, for he again commanded them to keep off. “If you touch my boat you will mar her,” he said. “I don’t know you. You may be scoundrels, robbers, assassins.” “We’re looking for some scoundrels,” said the Texan, in a low tone; “and I certain reckon we’ve found them. Get ready to board that boat, and be prepared to fight.” “I warn you to keep off!” angrily shouted the voice of the unseen man. “We’ll have to defend ourselves.” “If you’re on the level,” said Dick, “you have nothing to fear from us; but we are determined to make an investigation and find out who and what you are.” “We may fire on you.” “Better not.” “We can. You are in the light, while it is impossible for you to see us.” “If you do any shooting, you’ll regret it.”