Dick Merriwell's Pranks: or, Lively Times in the Orient. Standish Burt L.
manner.”
“Wait a moment, boy,” advised the Turk, still maintaining his cool and insolent manner. “I am here on most important business. Professor Gunn has been challenged to mortal combat by Major Fitts, and I have come as the representative of the major to make arrangements for the affair of honor.”
“Well,” said Dick, “you may return and tell that little blusterer to go to a warmer clime! Professor Gunn is not a fighting man, and he will not meet Major Fitts in a duel.”
“Hold on – hold on, Richard!” called the professor, who was beginning to feel the influence of the “medicine” from the leather-covered flask. “Don’t be so hasty! I want you to understand that I am no coward! That withered old pippin can’t frighten me! No, sir! If he wants to fight a duel, I’ll meet him, and I’ll give him all he wants of it!”
“Professor, you – ”
“Stop, Richard – stop right there! I know my own business. If I were to let that mistake from Mississippi drive me into my boots I’d never after have the face to look at my own reflection in a mirror.”
“But a duel, professor – a real duel – ”
“I know. It’s all right. I’ll show him the kind of stuff I’m made of, I will! He thinks he’ll frighten me, but he’ll find out he can’t jar me a bit. I’ll meet him with weapons of any sort. I’ll meet him anywhere!”
“Whoop!” cried Buckhart. “The old boy means it, pard, and I reckon he’ll make good!”
“Mowbry Fitts will find out that I’ll make good,” said Zenas. “He can’t send his representative here and frighten Zenas Gunn, of Fardale. Fix it up, Richard. You shall be my second. I leave it all to you. That unfortunate fall shook me up, and I’m a trifle dizzy. I’ll retire again. But this gentleman had better tell old Fitts to prepare for his funeral. That’s all he’ll be good for when I am through with him.”
Then Zenas again retired to his room.
Aziz Achmet waited. Dick Merriwell thought swiftly.
“Where and when shall this duel take place?” he asked.
“There is an old cemetery a short distance up the street,” said the Turk.
“Well?”
“It will be an excellent place for the meeting.”
“And the hour?”
“Daybreak to-morrow, if it suits you.”
“That’s all right.”
“The weapons – ”
“We have the choice of weapons,” interrupted Merriwell.
“And you choose swords – or pistols?”
“We will not only choose the weapons, we’ll provide them,” said the boy. “I’ll have them on hand, Mr. Achmet.”
“But it is customary to settle all these little details in advance, boy.”
“You have forced this affair on Professor Gunn. I guarantee that he will be on hand at the appointed time to-morrow morning. I also guarantee that he will have the weapons. If you’re not satisfied with that, get out of these rooms and cease to annoy us further.”
“That’s business!” cried Buckhart.
Achmet seemed to think a moment, but he finally bowed, retreating gracefully toward the door.
“It is only a single point,” he said, “and I shall advise my principal to concede it. But I wish you to understand that we shall be on our guard for trickery, and I’ll see that Major Fitts has a fair and even chance.”
Then he passed through the door, which the Nubian closed.
CHAPTER V – IN THE CEMETERY
When Pera was swept by fire but one thing in the burned portion remained practically unchanged. It was an old cemetery. It is there to-day, in the midst of the city of modern buildings, and this cemetery was the spot chosen by Aziz Achmet for the duel.
To this old graveyard in the dusky light of morning came three persons. One was an old man, haggard and pallid; the others were boys. The boys each carried a basket carefully covered by a cloth.
Professor Gunn had scarcely closed his eyes in sleep that night. He tried to sleep, but his “medicine” ran out, and without its soothing influence he wooed slumber in vain. During the greater part of the night he had walked the floor of his room or sat writing at a little table.
Beneath the dismal cypress trees which filled the cemetery it was still quite dark.
“Boys,” whispered the professor, as they paused on the point of entering, “can you see anything of them?”
“Can’t see much of anything,” answered Dick, “only what looks like a lot of drunken ghosts.”
In truth the graveyard seemed filled with reeling, ghostly forms, but, on closer inspection, these were found to be tombstones. The human appearance of these lurching stones was explained on closer examination, for it is the custom of the Turks to carve the stone above the grave of every man so that its top is crowned either with a turban or a fez. Seen in a dim light, the tilted stones looked remarkably like staggering human forms, robed in white.
“Boo!” muttered Buckhart, shrugging his broad shoulders. “This sure is a spooky old place.”
Both boys heard a sudden sound like rattling dice. They discovered it came from the professor, whose teeth were chattering loudly.
“Keep a stiff backbone, professor,” advised Dick. “It will all be over in a short time.”
“Ye-yes,” faltered Zenas, “it will all bub-bub-be over fuf-fuf-for me. Richard, I fuf-fuf-feel that I am gug-gug-going to fuf-fuf-fall.”
“Nonsense! Why, you were bold as a lion last night when Achmet called.”
“Bub-bub-but that was lul-lul-last nun-nun-night,” chattered the shaking old fellow. “Besides, I had tut-tut-taken some tut-tut-tonic. I wush I ha-ha-had sus-sus-some nun-nun-now.”
“It sure is a shame you ran out of tonic,” said Brad. “But you won’t be any good whatever unless you get a brace on. You’ve got to fight Fitts now.”
“Yes, you’ll have to give him fits,” said Dick, making a poor pun. “You can’t back out without being branded as a coward, after which you’d never again dare look at your own reflection in a mirror.”
“I know it,” sighed Zenas; “but I was a fool to be so bub-brave last night! That woman is responsible for it all! If I dud-dud-die, my blood will be on her head!”
“But you’re not going to fall,” declared Buckhart.
They finally succeeded in leading him into the gloom of the cemetery, and he seemed greatly relieved when they ascertained beyond doubt that Major Fitts and his second had not arrived.
“Perhaps they won’t come at all,” said the old pedagogue eagerly.
“Perhaps not,” agreed Dick; “but I wouldn’t count on that, for I believe Achmet will bring the major.”
But the professor was hopeful as well as anxious. He watched the gray light of morning sifting through the cypress branches and bringing out the ghostly tombstones with more and more distinctness. Then he began to fear.
“I – I think there is no doubt about it,” he said, at last. “He is not coming, boys. He’s a bluffer. He tried to bluff me, but he failed.”
Having arrived at this conclusion, he rapidly grew indignant.
“This thing is outrageous!” he blustered – “outrageous, I say! Why, the craven little whipper-snapper! Just think of it, he hasn’t the courage to come here like a man and meet me in mortal combat! He is a coward – that’s what he is, a coward! A fire eater, indeed! Bah! The next time I meet him, I shall tweak his nose! Yes, sir, tweak it!”
In