"I hope yo' will congratulate me, professor," said the major, as proud as a peacock. "Miss Ketchum has consented to become Mrs. Fitts as soon as we reach the United States. I'm sorry fo' yo', suh; but yo' never really had a show, suh."

"That's right, major," smiled Dick. "He didn't have a show, because he is already--"

"Don't you dare tell I'm married!" hissed Zenas, in the boy's ear.

"He is all ready to carry out his plan to penetrate the wilds of Africa, where it would be impossible for him to take a bride, and he could not bear to be parted from one so young and charming as Miss Ketchum, were he to have the good fortune to capture her."

"Saved your life, you rascal!" whispered Zenas, and then hastened to bow low to the coy and confused lady from Boston.

At Beirut the party split up, the professor and the boys going to Damascus, a distance of ninety-one miles, which was covered by an excellent narrow-gauge railroad, built by Swiss engineers.

"We're off, boys!" cheerfully exclaimed the professor, as the train finally started. "We'll soon be in the oldest city in the world."

"Do you mean Damascus, professor?" inquired Dick.

"Of course I mean Damascus! We're not bound for any other place, are we? Did you think I meant New York? Did you fancy I was speaking of Hoboken? Hum! Haw!"

"But there is no absolute proof that Damascus is the oldest city in the world. There may be older cities in China or India."

"There may be," admitted the old pedagogue; "but we do not know about them. At least, Damascus is the oldest city we know anything about."

"That is quite true. If you had said that--"

"Now look here, Richard, you are inclined to be altogether too wise. You keep yourself too well posted about the countries and places we visit, and thus you deprive me of the privilege of imparting information to you. It isn't right. You make me feel that I am not earning my stipend as your guardian and tutor during this trip round the world. You place me in an embarrassing position. I wish you would feign ignorance, if you cannot do anything else."

Dick laughed.

"All right, professor; I'll try to reform. But it was your advice to us that we should post ourselves in advance on each place we visited, and I've been obeying instructions, that's all."

"Haw! Hum! You're inclined to be too obedient-altogether too obedient. Now here is Bradley-I haven't observed that he has wasted much time reading up about different countries and cities."

"Sure not," admitted the Texan. "It's a heap too much trouble, for I know I'll hear about the places from you and Dick when we hit 'em. This yere country sort of looks familiar."

"It does," nodded Dick. "To me it looks like Southern Colorado or Northern New Mexico. It's a land of irrigation. The mountains, the plains, the foliage, the mud houses, everything but the people, remind me of that portion of our own country."

"Quite true," agreed Zenas Gunn; "although the fertile spots here have all been taken up and cultivated. For instance, look there, boys-look at that mountainside."

Gazing from the window as the train sped along, they could see the side of a mountain walled up in terraces like gigantic stairways, to prevent the soil from being washed away by the rainfalls. These terraces were planted with grapes, figs, olive and mulberry trees. On many of these terraces laborers were at work propping up strange-looking trunks, which were six or seven feet high. In places these trunks could be seen reclining in rows on the ground, looking strangely like sleeping soldiers.

"Those are grapevines," exclaimed the professor. "In the fall they cut them down to that height and lay them flat on the ground, as you see them. They are now beginning to prop them up. They will be irrigated and dressed, and then new branches will shoot out in all directions and cover the soil and bear fruit."

As the train wound in and out of the gorges, clinging to the mountainsides, they beheld many strange and interesting things. Laborers were setting out mulberry trees in long trenches. Other laborers were digging the trenches, three men working a single shovel. One of the men manipulated the shovel, holding the handle and driving it down into the soil. Two others lifted it out with its load, doing so by pulling at ropes attached to the shovel just above the blade. They all worked together with astonishing ease and skill. Great hedges of cactus stretched along the railroad in many places. They gazed with interest at the old-fashioned irrigating canals. They beheld men plowing with the same sort of crooked stick that was used for that purpose in Bible times. But there were no farmhouses scattered over the country, for the people still lived in villages, as they did in former days, when it was necessary for neighbors to band together for protection.

For a great portion of the way the railroad followed the old caravan trail, and all along this trail were scattered trains of camels and donkeys, loaded with all kinds of goods, such as silk, cotton, grain, machinery, poplar trees, fuel, and other things. Petroleum, however, seemed to form the greater portion of many a cargo.

The sun shone from a cloudless sky.

Brad Buckhart was strangely silent. He gazed out of the window in an abstracted manner, paying very little attention to what the professor and Dick were saying.

Finally Dick began to joke him about his unusual manner.

"Don't worry, Brad," he laughed. "We'll overtake her soon. We may find her in Damascus."

"Her?" grunted the Texan.

"Yes."

"Why, who--"

"Nadia Budthorne, of course. Her last letter told you she would visit Damascus and then proceed to Jerusalem, in company with her brother. You can't fool me, old man. You have been counting on overtaking her somewhere in the Holy Land. Don't deny it."

"All right," said Buckhart, his face flushed, but his manner a bit defiant; "I won't deny it, Mr. Smarty. You sure have hit it all right. I--"

At this moment the whistle of the locomotive shrieked a wild alarm and the brakes were applied violently. Something was wrong. The train came to a stop.

And just outside the window of the compartment occupied by the old professor and two boys a dead camel lay stretched on the ground, blood flowing from several horrible wounds. The animal's pack was broken open and the goods scattered in all directions.

Not ten feet from the camel lay a gorgeously dressed, black-bearded Arab, likewise apparently dead.

"Whoop!" cried Buckhart. "There certain have been some doings here! I opine the camel tried to butt the train off the track, somewhat to the grief of Mr. Camel."

Men now came running toward the spot, all greatly excited. They were principally camel drivers and like men from a caravan. They gathered about the prostrate Arab and made a great demonstration. Their gestures toward the train were very threatening.

One of the guards flung open the door of the compartment occupied by our friends.

"Is there a doctor here?" he asked anxiously. "A serious accident has happened."

In a moment Dick Merriwell sprang out, followed by Brad. They did not wait to enter into conversation with the guard, but started toward the dead camel and the motionless Arab.

Others from the train were doing the same thing, and the boys learned from fragments of conversation that the Arab had been struck by the engine while endeavoring to drive from the track the camel that had strayed onto the railroad and obstinately refused to budge.

At that point the train came round a sharp curve, and the engineer was unable to see either camel or man until right upon them.

Later the boys learned that the camel was loaded with certain articles of great importance, which had led the Arab to imperil his life in the effort to drive the beast from the track.

"He seems to be some sort of high mogul in his tribe," observed Buckhart, as he and Dick paused and surveyed the injured man.

"He is a sheik of great power and influence," explained a man standing near. "That is why the railroad people are so concerned. If he were an ordinary camel driver or donkey man, they wouldn't stop a minute to bother over him."

"I wonder if he is really dead?" muttered Dick, stepping forward.

In a moment he was kneeling beside the unconscious man. Deftly he began to make an examination, seeking for broken bones.

A number of Arabs were about, their heads tied up and their feet and legs bare, as is their custom in all sorts of weather. One of these objected when Dick began the examination, but a husky fellow prevented the chap from attacking the American boy.

"I don't believe he is dead," declared Dick. "Doesn't seem to have any broken bones. He's stunned-just has the breath knocked out of him. Give me a hand, Brad; let's see if we can't revive him."

The Texan responded promptly.

"What do you want me to do, pard?" he inquired.

"We'll try artificial respiration," said Merriwell. "You work his lungs while I work his arms."

What followed caused the wildest excitement among the watching Arabs, for Buckhart knelt astride the body of the old sheik and began a regular and steady pumplike movement on the lower part of his breast, while Dick seized the man's arms, pulled them at full length above the Arab's head, then bent them back suddenly and pressed them to his sides. The two boys worked together in perfect unison.

Some of the Arabs cried out that the infidels were defiling the dead. Two or three of them drew weapons and would have rushed on the boys; but the same husky fellow, who had checked them before now, produced a pistol and averred that he would "blow daylight" through the whole of them if they did not keep still.

In this manner they were temporarily checked, and that brief check gave Merriwell time enough to accomplish his purpose.

A low moan and a convulsive gasp came from the lips of the man over which the boys were working. Signs of returning consciousness were pronounced. His breast heaved. The boys ceased their work. For he breathed.

An Englishman held out a flask of whisky.

"Give him a swallow of this," he advised.

Dick pushed it away.

"Water," he called. "That will be better for him."

"Allah! Allah!" cried the astounded Arabs. "The infidels are magicians! They have restored the dead to life! Ras al Had lives again!"

Some of them prostrated themselves in the dust. Others hastened to bring water.

Dick took a canteen and turned a little of the liquid between the lips of the injured man. He swallowed it greedily, coughed a little, and then lay gazing in a puzzled manner at the face of the American boy.

Finally, in very good English, he asked what had happened. His voice was weak and husky, yet his words were plain.

"You were struck by the train," explained Merriwell. "Your camel was killed, and you seemed to be dead; but I think you are all right now."

"For which you may thank this boy and his friend here," said the husky chap, who had protected the boys. "To all appearances, you were as dead as old Mohammed; but they pumped the breath back into you in a hurry."

Several of the Arabs now brought cushions, which were placed beneath the head and shoulders of the sheik. One of them spoke to him hurriedly in a low tone, and seemed telling him all about what had taken place. When this man had finished speaking the sheik made a gesture with his hand and bade him retire.

He then called for Dick.

"Be careful, Richard," cautioned Professor Gunn. "These men are treacherous. There's no telling what he means to do."

Dick laughed and stepped nearer to the sheik.

"Boy," said the old Arab, "they tell me that I was dead, and by your infidel magic you brought life back into my body."

"You were unconscious, that was all. The shock had driven the breath from your body, and we simply revived the action of your lungs."

"Had you not done so--"

"You sure would have croaked for fair," put in Buckhart.

"What you ask of me, if it is in my power, I will give," declared the sheik. "That is the word of Ras al Had, and, though no pledge to an infidel is binding, may the wrath of Allah fall on me if I break this one. Speak."

"If you think I did it for pay of any sort, you are mistaken," said the young American, with a touch of resentment. "You can't reward me for a thing like that."

"Then if ever you are in need or in danger, and I can be of service, the sword and the life of Ras al Had shall be at your command. I swear this by the beard of the Prophet!"

"All aboard!" shouted a voice. "Train's going to start."

There was a general rush for the cars.

Chapter 8 ON THE WAY TO DAMASCUS

You might like