Yussuf the Guide; Or, the Mountain Bandits. George Manville Fenn
Turkey carrying fire-irons in my belt and over my shoulder, like a sham footpad in a country show.”
The landlord was summoned—a frank-looking Englishman, who listened to all the professor said in silence and then replied:
“Mr. Thompson the consul is quite right, sir. We are not in England here, and though this is the nineteenth century the state of the country is terribly lawless. You know the old saying about when at Rome.”
“Do as the Romans do, eh?”
“Exactly, sir. Every second man you meet here even in the town goes armed, even if his weapons are not seen, while in the country—quite in the interior, it is the custom to wear weapons.”
“Then I shall not go,” said Mr. Burne decisively. “If you ask my advice, gentlemen, I should say, carry each of you a good revolver, a knife or dagger, a sword, and a double-barrelled gun.”
“Sword, dagger, and gun!” cried the professor. “Surely a revolver would be sufficient.”
“Why not push a nice large brass cannon before us in a wheel-barrow?” said Mr. Burne sarcastically, and then leaning back in his chair to chuckle, as if he had said something very comical, and which he emphasised by winking and nodding at Lawrence, who was too much interested in the discussion upon weapons to heed him.
“A revolver is not sufficient, for more than one reason, gentlemen,” said the landlord. “It is a deadly weapon in skilful hands; but you will meet scores of people who do not understand its qualities, but who would comprehend a sword or a gun. You do not want to have to use these weapons.”
“Use them, sir? Of course not,” roared the lawyer. “Of course not, sir,” said the landlord. “If you go armed merely with revolvers you may have to use them; but if you wear, in addition, a showy-looking sword and knife, and carry each of you a gun, you will be so formidable in appearance that the people in the different mountain villages will treat you with the greatest of respect, and you may make your journey in safety.”
“This is very reasonable,” said the professor.
“I assure you, sir, that in a country such as this is now such precautions are as necessary as taking a bottle of quinine. And beside, you may require your guns for game.”
“The country is very fine, of course?”
“Magnificent, sir,” replied the landlord; “but it is in ruins. The neglect and apathy of the government are such that the people are like the land—full of weeds. Why, you will hardly find a road fit to traverse, and through the neglect of the authorities, what used to be smiling plains are turned to fever-haunted marshes spreading pestilence around.”
“You will have to give way, Mr. Burne,” said the professor smiling, “and dress like a bandit chief.”
“Never, sir,” cried the lawyer. “You two may, but I am going through Asia Minor with a snuff-box and a walking-stick. Those will be enough for me.”
“Where can we get arms?” said the professor smiling.
“At Politanie’s, sir, about fifty yards from here. You will find him a very straightforward tradesman. Of course his prices are higher than you would pay in London; but he will not supply you with anything that is untrustworthy. Perhaps you may as well say that you are friends of our consul, and that I advised you.”
“It is absurd!” exclaimed Mr. Burne, as soon as they were alone. “What do you say, Lawrence, my boy? You don’t believe in weapons of war, I’m sure.”
“No,” replied Lawrence quietly.
“There, professor.”
“But,” continued Lawrence, “I believe in being safe. I feel sure that the people will respect us all the more for being armed.”
“And would you use a sword, sir?” cried the lawyer fiercely.
Lawrence drew his sleeve back from his thin arm, gazed at it mournfully, and then looked up in a wistful half-laughing way at his two friends.
“I don’t think I could even pull it out of the sheath,” he said sadly.
“Come, Burne, you will have to yield to circumstances.”
“Not I, sir, not I,” said Mr. Burne emphatically. “I have been too much mixed up with the law all my life, and know its beauties too well, ever to break it.”
“But you will come with us to the gunsmith’s?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll come and see you fool away your money, only I’m not going to have you carry loaded guns near me. If they are to be for show let them be for show. There, I’m ready.”
“You will lie down for an hour, Lawrence, eh?” said the professor; “it is very hot.” But the lad looked so dismayed that his friend smiled and said, “Come along, then.”
A few minutes later they were in a store, whose owner seemed to sell everything, from tinned meat to telescopes; and, upon hearing their wants, the shrewd, clever-looking Greek soon placed a case of revolvers before them of English and American make, exhibiting the differences of construction with clever fingers, with the result that the professor selected a Colt, and Lawrence a Tranter of a lighter make.
“He’s a keen one,” said Mr. Burne. “What a price he is asking for these goods!”
“But they seem genuine,” said the professor; for the Greek had gone to the back of his store to make some inquiry about ammunition.
“Genuine fleecing,” grumbled Mr. Burne; and just then the dealer returned.
“You select those two, then, gentlemen,” he said in excellent English. “But if you will allow me, sir,” he continued to Lawrence, “this is a more expensive and more highly finished pistol than the other, and it is lighter in the hand; but if I were you, as my arm would grow stronger, I should have one exactly like my friend’s.”
“Why?” said Lawrence; “I like this one.”
“It is a good choice, sir, but it requires different cartridges to your friend’s, and as you are going right away, would it not be better to have to depend on one size only? I have both, but I offer the suggestion.”
“Yes, that’s quite right,” said the old lawyer sharply; “quite right. I should have both the same; and, do you know, I think perhaps I might as well have one, in case either of you should lose yours.”
Mr. Preston felt ready to smile, but the speaker was looking full at him, as if in expectation thereof, and he remained perfectly serious.
The pistols having been purchased, with a good supply of ammunition, guns were brought out, and the professor invested in a couple of good useful double-barrelled fowling-pieces for himself and Lawrence; Mr. Burne watching intently the whole transaction, and ending by asking the dealer to show him one.
“You see,” he explained, “I should look odd to the people if I were not carrying the same weapons as you two, and besides I have often thought that I should like to go shooting. I don’t see why I shouldn’t; do you, Lawrence?”
“No, sir, certainly not,” was the reply: and Mr. Burne went on examining the gun before him, pulling the lever, throwing open the breech, and peeping through the barrels as if they formed a double telescope.
“Oh! that’s the way, is it?” he said. “But suppose, when the thing goes off, the shots should come out at this end instead of the other?”
“But you don’t fire it off when it’s open like that, Mr. Burne,” cried Lawrence.
“My dear boy, of course not. Do you suppose I don’t understand? You put in the cartridges like this. No, they won’t go in that way. You put them in like that, and then you pull the trigger.”
“No, no, no,” cried Lawrence excitedly.