The old man said not a word, for he knew he would betray himself if he opened his mouth. Brad Buckhart paused and watched proceedings, his hands clenched and his aspect indicating that he was on the verge of pitching in and assisting Zenas. Dick made a warning gesture, which Brad saw. He also paused, but he looked on as if quite indifferent to what was taking place. Assouan had disappeared. Fully understanding the terrible peril his companions were in, he had no desire to become involved, and, therefore, he had hastened on. Our friends were left to their fate in the streets of Damascus. CHAPTER XXI—SAVED BY PRAYER One of the mob struck the old professor in the face. Instantly Dick started forward. Then a most fortunate thing happened. From the balcony of a near-by minaret a muezzin sent forth the call to prayer: “God is great. There is but one God. Mohammed is the prophet of God. Prayer is better than sleep. Come to prayer.” Immediately a wonderful change came over the crowd on the street. As one man, they lifted their hands to their ears, the lobes of which they touched with their thumbs, keeping their hands outspread, at the same time beginning to repeat certain passages from the Koran. This was the beginning of the Mohammedan prayer. The professor seemed forgotten. Dick realized instantly that this was a time to be improved, for the shortest prayer would require several minutes. The call to prayer had come at a moment most fortunate for Professor Gunn. Instantly Dick hurried past the confused and trembling old man, hissing in his ear: “Follow me!” All around them were the praying Mussulmans, but not one of them put out a hand to stop the disguised foreigners. Brad followed after Dick and the professor, thus acting as a sort of rear guard. Once or twice Dick looked back to see if Zenas was following. Terror had given the old man strength, and he was not far from the boy’s heels. Even when the devotees of Mohammed fell on their knees and began beating their heads on the ground, the fugitives continued to thread their way amid the half-prostrate figures. Dick did not know which way Assouan had gone, but he did know it was best for them to get as far as possible from the vicinity of the German hotel. Of course, he hoped the black servant of Ras al Had would again appear, but he did not linger to look around for him. They were fortunate in getting out of the thickest of the crowd before the devotees had finished praying. “That sure was a close call,” muttered Buckhart. “I reckoned we were all goners.” “Why didn’t you leave me, boys?” asked the professor. “I was keeping silent to give you time to escape.” “What are you talking about?” demanded Dick resentfully. “I hope you don’t think we’re that sort!” “I hope so some myself!” growled the Texan. “Where is that thundering nig—I mean colored gent?” “He’s skipped,” said Dick. “Hiked and left us to go it alone, eh?” nodded the Texan. “Well, that’s a plenty fine!”