“I will send an escort with you,” said Ras al Had. “Remember my words of warning and be cautious. We may never meet again, but I feel that I have canceled my debt to you, even as I shall some day make settlement with Hafsa Pasha.” Ras al Had called four sturdy black men and bade them escort the boy and girl back to the bazaars and from thence to their hotel, in case they wished it. Then he bade Dick and Nadia a dignified farewell. The escort were four villainous-looking black rascals, and Nadia was afraid of them; but Dick tried to reassure her, declaring that the servants of Ras al Had were to be trusted, no matter how untrustworthy they looked. Here and there through the crooked, winding streets they made their way. To Dick it seemed that they had covered a far greater distance than was necessary in order to return directly to the bazaars; but he fancied the black men were taking them by a round-about course in order to avoid the vicinity of the temple where the trouble had taken place. As they proceeded they were joined by a crooked, wizened old Turk, who seemed to know the black men. He spoke to them one by one, but not a word that he said reached the ears of the boy and girl. Nadia shrank close to Dick, and the hand that clung to his arm trembled a little. “I don’t like that man,” she whispered. “Did you see how he looked at me? I wish we were by ourselves. We do not need an escort.” Merriwell tried to reassure her, but he was not entirely easy in his mind. Finally he spoke to one of the black men, asking why it took so long to reach the bazaars. The fellow made some sort of an explanation in broken English, but scarcely a word of it could Dick understand. By this time they were in a quarter of the city that added to the apprehension of the American boy. The people they passed stared at them in a manner that was decidedly disagreeable, to say the least, and many made remarks that were plainly of an insulting nature. Finally Dick stopped. “Look here,” he said; “we will go it alone the rest of the way. We are much obliged for your kindness, but we don’t need you any more.” Then the old Turk approached him and mildly but firmly insisted that it would be quite suicidal to dismiss the escort in such a manner and in such a quarter of the city. “When did you get into this game?” demanded the boy, somewhat warmly. “It doesn’t strike me that you have anything to say about it.” Then the crooked old fellow protested that he was a friend to Ras al Had and was working entirely in the interest of the sheik. Dick’s suspicions were redoubled, instead of allayed. “That may be true,” he said; “but we don’t propose to trouble Ras al Had’s friends any more. Take the whole bunch and go.” “And never again have the courage to look the great sheik in the face?” said the Turk. “No; not until I know you are safe with your friends will I abandon you.” Dick turned to one of the black men, who seemed to be something of a leader.