“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.