“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.