Burt Standish - Dick Merriwell's Pranks - or, Lively Times in the Orient

Dick had his revolver ready for action, and he was standing in a half-crouching position, peering over the head of Buckhart at the place in the boat lately occupied by the guide.

“He’s gug-gone!” gasped Zenas.

Brad dropped the match, and again they were buried in darkness which seemed to oppress them like an awful weight.

“Great catamounts!” said a voice that sounded strange and husky, but which Dick recognized as that of the Texan. “Where has he gone? What does it mean, partner?”

“It means that we are the victims of trickery of some sort,” answered Dick, speaking in a low tone.

“It means that we are deserted to perish on the bosom of this awful buried lake!” came from the professor, in something like a moan. “I am to blame! I brought you here!”

“But whatever could be the object?” questioned Brad, in a puzzled tone. “If it’s robbery – ”

“It’s a plot – a plot, boys! We are objects of suspicion. That agent of the secret police suspected us of something. In this awful city to be suspected is to be doomed.”

“I can’t realize it yet,” muttered Dick. “How could the guide get out of the boat?”

“I’ll strike another match, pard,” said the Texan. “Keep your gun ready for use.”

“There are other torches,” reminded Dick. “We placed them in the bottom of the boat. Find them, Brad, and light one.”

During the interval that followed the Texan was heard feeling about the bottom of the boat. After a time he confessed:

“I can’t seem to get my paws on them. I’ll have to use another match. The light will show us where they are.”

Another match was lighted, but, though it was held and moved about to illumine the bottom of the boat, not a torch was discovered. When they realized that the extinguished torches were gone they sat up and looked into one another’s eyes by the last gleams of the exhausted match, which Buckhart held until the blaze scorched his fingers.

For some moments silence followed.

Floating there on the motionless bosom of that black lake, no sound came down to them from the great city overhead. The stillness was appalling, yet all feared to speak, dreading the sound of their own voices.

Finally Dick asked:

“How many matches have you, Brad?”

“Not over four or five more.”

“And I have none. How about you, professor – have you any?”

“Not one,” was the despairing answer.

Suddenly Buckhart grated:

“I’d like to get my paws on the treacherous dog who deserted us in this fix! I’d certain fit him for a funeral! You hear me affirm!”

“I’m still unable to account for his action,” said Dick. “If his object is robbery, surely he has taken a strange way to go about it.”

“Perhaps he’s counting on frightening us good and plenty,” observed Brad. “Mebbe when he thinks we’re so frightened that we’ll be glad to cough up liberal he will appear and offer to conduct us back to the outer world.”

“Let’s call to him,” eagerly suggested the professor. Then he lifted his voice and called loudly.

When he had repeated the cry three times, they listened.

“Didn’t you hear a distant answer?” asked Dick.

“I judge whatever we heard was an echo,” said Brad.

After a time they lifted their voices in a united shout, and then listened to the mocking echoes which fled from pillar to pillar and died in the unknown distance.

“No use!” moaned Professor Gunn. “I am satisfied that we are doomed! We’ll never leave this place alive, and our fate will forever remain a mystery!”

“I’m sure that was no echo!” exclaimed Dick, as far away in the darkness they seemed to hear an answer to their repeated shouts. “Be still and let me shout.”

When he had lifted his strong, clear voice all hushed their breathing and listened.

There was a short interval, and then out of the black distance came a faint, far-away answer.

“Some one did shout, pard!” exclaimed the Texan. “It’s a dead-sure thing!”

Excitedly they all joined in the hail that followed. The answer was more distinct.

Dick had found an oar, and he slowly propelled the boat in the direction from which the answering cries seemed to come. Occasionally they bumped against the marble pillars, but these collisions did no damage.

Soon they could hear the answers to their cries and knew they were drawing nearer to the unknown person or persons who were thus responding.

Suddenly a tiny gleam of light showed amid the pillars at some distance.

“Looks like that’s a match, pard,” observed Buckhart. “I reckon I’ll strike one, too.”

He did so, but the other light disappeared even as he held his own above his head. Apparently his match was seen, for the voice of a man reached them, urging them to come in that direction.

By answering call for call they continued to draw nearer to the strangers, for they soon heard enough to satisfy them that at least two persons besides themselves were afloat on the bosom of that buried lake.

“One is a woman!” asserted Dick.

Lifting his voice, he asked:

“Who are you?”

“We are Americans. Who are yo’?”

“We are Americans, too.”

“What are yo’ doing here?”

“We are lost – deserted by our guide.”

“So are we. How many of yo’ are there?”

“Three. How many of you?”

“Two; and somebody shall suffer fo’ this outrage! Somebody shall pay the penalty fo’ it! I’ll have satisfaction as sho’ ’s my name is – ”

“Major Mowbry Fitts, of Natchez, Mississippi,” finished Dick.

“That’s my name, suh! But yo’, suh – why, is it possible that yo’ are – ”

“Professor Zenas Gunn, accompanied by Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart. Is Miss Ketchum, of Boston, with you?”

“I am here,” answered the well-known voice of Sarah Ann. “We have passed through a most awful and excruciating experience, the faintest remembrance of which will forever seem like a fearful nightmare. I am glad you have found us, for now you can assist us in getting out of this frightful place.”

“I am sure we would like to do so,” said Dick; “but, unfortunately, like yourselves, we do not know which way to turn. How did you get here?”

The major explained as the two boats bumped together, and floated thus. Like the professor and the boys, he and Miss Ketchum had visited the lake in company with a guide, who had vanished in a mysterious and unaccountable manner. They fancied they had been afloat for days on the bosom of the lake, and they were in a pitiful condition of collapse and fright, although the major had braced up wonderfully for a time.

“This seems to be the usual manner of treating visitors,” said Dick.

“We’ve used our last match,” said the major. “I lighted it a few minutes ago. We had been saving it. I am afraid we will never be able to escape. I have about given up hope.”

“It is the work of that terrible Turk who urged you into the duel with Professor Gunn, major,” said the woman from Boston. “He warned us to leave Constantinople, but we refused to go, and he told us we would disappear mysteriously.”

“Are you speaking of Aziz Achmet?” asked Dick.

“That is what he calls himself.”

“Then you have seen him since the morning of the duel?”

“Seen him!” indignantly exclaimed the major. “We have seen him everywhere, suh. He has followed us and watched us wherever we went. We couldn’t make a move that he wouldn’t turn up. Twice he told us that we must leave the city and the country.”

“I wish now,” confessed Miss Ketchum, “that we had obeyed him. Don’t you, major?”

“Well,” answered the little man, with a touch of reluctance in his voice, “I must confess, madam, that I believe it would have been much better fo’ us if we had obeyed.”