Dick Merriwell's Pranks; Or, Lively Times in the OrientStandish, Burt L.
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Dick Merriwell's Pranks; Or, Lively Times in the Orient
Standish, Burt L.
Adventure stories; Americans -- Middle East -- Juvenile fiction; Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Mystery fiction
“We made a trip into the country outside the city,” explained the little
man.
“It happens that I was the one accompanying her when she was seized and
carried off,” added Dick. “By chance this girl, who is perfectly
innocent of wrongdoing, fell beneath the notice of Hafsa Pasha, a bad
man, who resolved to add her to his harem. He was baffled, and he
deserved the fate he met. However, none of our party had anything to do
with that. He was killed by an old enemy, whom he had bitterly wronged.
These are the facts, gentlemen. Now, in order to save your fine necks
you talk about turning her over to that snarling pack of wolves at the
door! I am ashamed of you both!”
In spite of his youth he made them feel ashamed of themselves.
“Oh, well, oh, well,” said the little man apologetically; “we didn’t
understand, you know. If we had——”
“But I don’t fancy being talked to in this manner by a mere boy,”
growled the other.
“I didn’t expect you would fancy it,” said Dick, with continued
boldness. “Lots of people do not fancy being told the plain truth. Often
it cuts to the quick. If you wish to do what you can to save yourselves,
be prepared to fight for your lives if the mob breaks in here, but do
not talk of surrendering a girl to be murdered by that pack of maddened
beasts. On the contrary, you should be ready to defend her with your
last drop of blood.”
Having scorched them in this manner, Dick turned and remounted the
stairs.
The tall man made a move as if to stop him, but checked himself.
Barely had Dick disappeared when a figure advanced quickly from the
shadows at the rear of the hall and spoke in a low tone to the two men.
“I beg your pardon,” said a soft voice, with a pronounced accent that
seemed to proclaim him either a Spaniard or an Italian. “I happened to
overhear a part of your conversation with that boy. I know him.”
The stranger was slim and dark, with a slight mustache, which curled
upward at the ends. He had coal-black eyes, which were very restless and
very piercing. His hands were small and slim, almost womanish.
The two men looked at him in some surprise. As they did not speak at
once he went on hurriedly:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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