“Say, you,” he exclaimed, “I want you to shake yourself and get out of this right away! Understand? Take this befezzed old relic with you, too. Git!” The man shook his head and held up his hands as if he did not understand. Nadia’s alarm had increased. She saw that Dick was rapidly becoming very angry, and she urged him to hold his temper. “I’ll travel no farther with these men!” declared the determined boy. The Turk said something to the black men, and they began to crowd about Dick and the girl. Seeing this, the boy reached for his pistol. Before he could draw the weapon, however, he was seized by the throat by a huge pair of hands, the owner of which was behind him. Another of the black rascals clutched his arm and prevented him from producing the weapon. The hands which clasped the boy’s neck were very powerful, and the massive fingers shut off his wind in a moment. The pressure thus exerted seemed crushing flesh and bone. He exerted all his strength in the effort to break away, but realized that he had very little chance to succeed. Through a haze he saw Nadia struggling weakly in the grip of the crooked Turk and one of the black men. There was a sudden roaring in his ears, but through it came a sharp sound that he knew was a scream from the lips of the unfortunate girl. A feeling of desperate fury shot through his heart. The very fact that he felt himself impotent to aid Nadia thrilled him with a horrible madness. He remembered the warning words of Ras al Had. But had the old sheik been sincere? Many a time he had heard that no Moslem ever felt himself bound in honor to an infidel. In fact, to deceive and betray an infidel was regarded as a commendable and praiseworthy proceeding. Had not Ras al Had played a crafty game from the start? It was truly surprising that the sheik had dared array himself against the priests before the temple. Had he not done so in order to deceive and betray the infidels more completely? Was it not possible the old scoundrel had realized that any harm befalling the boy and girl in the vicinity of the bazaars might bring swift retribution on the offenders, for which reason he had entered into the affair, held the mob in check for the time being, finally to decoy the victims into a part of the city where they could be murdered with very little chance that the crime would ever be punished? This hazy thought caused young Merriwell to twist and squirm in the clutch of those iron hands, making a last deranged effort to free himself that he might fight for her.