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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
In "Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward," Burt L. Standish continues the exhilarating adventures of young Frank Merriwell, an idealized American protagonist characterized by his relentless ambition and moral integrity. This installment unfolds across the scenic landscapes of Europe, where Merriwell navigates new challenges that test both his character and intellect. Standish employs a vibrant, engaging prose style, adorned with lively dialogues and vivid descriptions, capturing the essence of early 20th-century adventure fiction. With a rich backdrop of cultural exploration, readers are treated to a narrative that not only entertains but also reflects the burgeoning ideas of American exceptionalism and the pursuit of success against all odds. Burt L. Standish, the pen name of Gilbert Patten, emerged as a prominent figure in youth literature during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, driven by a passion for storytelling that inspired countless young readers. His experience in sports and his own adventurous spirit deeply influenced the creation of Frank Merriwell, allowing him to convey themes of perseverance, integrity, and the importance of hard work. Standish's own journey through writing and publishing mirrored Merriwell's ascent through challenges and rivalries, leading him to craft a character who embodied the ideals of his time. This compelling narrative is highly recommended for readers interested in classic adventure tales infused with moral lessons. Standish offers an engaging exploration of ambition and integrity, making this book not just a thrilling read but also an insightful commentary on the values of perseverance and self-improvement. "Frank Merriwell in Europe" will resonate with anyone who cherishes the archetype of the courageous hero rising through adversity. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward
Table of Contents
Introduction
In Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward, Burt L. Standish places his enterprising American hero amid the Old World’s layered tests—of class, custom, and competition—so that each encounter becomes a measure of character, resourcefulness, and fair play, and each hard-won advance a step earned by courage and grit, as he navigates unfamiliar cities, faces skeptical audiences, and demonstrates that steadfast principles travel as surely as passports, inviting readers to consider the pull of merit over privilege and the enduring appeal of optimism in the face of calculating doubt.
This installment belongs to the long-running Frank Merriwell series, a cornerstone of late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century American juvenile adventure fiction. Written by Burt L. Standish, the pen name of William G. Patten, it emerges from the Street & Smith publishing world that popularized serial heroes for mass audiences. The Merriwell stories originated in Tip Top Weekly beginning in the 1890s and were often issued in book form around the turn of the century, positioning this volume squarely within that cultural moment. Set across European locales, the book marries the series’ school-and-sport ethos to a travel framework that showcases contrasts between American youth and continental traditions.
Readers encounter a brisk, episodic journey in which Frank’s travels abroad become a proving ground for his judgment, stamina, and tact. The premise is straightforward and spoiler-safe: an American student-athlete abroad meets opportunities to test himself—in contests of skill, moments of moral pressure, and encounters that demand quick thinking. The tone is upbeat and clean-scrubbed, the mood adventurous without grimness, and the voice steady, presenting dilemmas that can be met with pluck and principle. The experience offers light suspense, genial humor, and a steady cadence of challenges that reward fair dealing, inviting readers to enjoy pacey scenes while tracking an ethical throughline.
As the subtitle suggests, the book concentrates on upward movement achieved through effort rather than entitlement. It explores how discipline, loyalty to friends, and honest competition can open doors, even in settings guarded by etiquette and hierarchy. The European backdrop sharpens questions familiar to the series: What does merit look like across cultures, and how does one earn respect where privilege and pedigree often set the rules? Standish’s hero embodies an ideal of American self-reliance tempered by courtesy, positioning personal improvement as a daily practice. Readers today may find resonance in its emphasis on character under pressure and the belief that integrity can be a passport of its own.
Standish writes in accessible, momentum-driven prose shaped by the story’s serial lineage, favoring crisp scenes, clear stakes, and chapter endings that invite continued reading. Action typically arises from misunderstandings, rivalries, and tests of nerve rather than from brutality, keeping the narrative within a family-friendly register. Dialogue is brisk, description purposeful, and pacing elastic—slowing for deduction or sportsmanship, then quickening for daring scrapes and public trials of skill. The style’s economy supports a moral clarity: success is less about cunning for its own sake than about ingenuity aligned with fair play, making the book both a page-turner and a vehicle for the series’ steady ethic.
The book also reflects its historical context: a period when American popular fiction exported national ideals abroad and brought foreign settings home to a burgeoning youth audience. Its outlook celebrates athletic vigor, teamwork, and clean living, with European scenes framed through an American lens typical of its era. While the narrative’s enthusiasm is infectious, contemporary readers may wish to approach depictions of culture and class with awareness of period conventions. The value lies in witnessing how a mass-market series negotiated questions of ambition, manners, and identity across borders, revealing the aspirations and assumptions that animated turn-of-the-century popular reading.
Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward remains appealing for those interested in classic adventure, the history of series fiction, and narratives that connect travel with tests of character. Its questions—how to earn trust, excel fairly, and navigate unfamiliar rules without losing one’s compass—retain contemporary relevance. For educators and enthusiasts, it models how serial storytelling shapes expectations through recurring virtues and incremental trials. For general readers, it promises lively scenes, clean challenges, and a reliable moral backbone. As part of a widely reprinted and enduring franchise, it offers a welcoming entry point to a formative chapter in American popular literature.
Synopsis
Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward follows the celebrated American schoolboy-athlete as he carries his ideals abroad. Eager to broaden his experience beyond classrooms and playing fields, Frank sails for Europe with a small circle of loyal companions. He intends to pay his way honestly, relying on skill, quick thinking, and steady work rather than family fortune. The ocean crossing introduces the pattern that will mark the journey: tests of nerve, a chance to assist strangers, and a brush with a jealous rival who mistakes Frank’s courtesy for boastfulness. By landfall, his purpose is set—travel, learn, and earn without compromising principle.
England's cities and campuses present unfamiliar codes of conduct and class expectations. Frank keeps a low profile but cannot avoid being drawn into sport, where his insistence on fair rules surprises skeptics and gradually wins over new acquaintances. He accepts modest opportunities to support the journey, from tutoring and coaching to writing short dispatches about American athletics for a newspaper. Alongside congenial hosts appear a few hostile figures, including a polished youth who resents Frank’s poise and independence. The contrast between pretension and merit frames several contests, each approached as an exchange of skill rather than a quarrel, and each tightening the rivalry that shadows him.
Crossing to the Continent, Frank negotiates language barriers and bustling boulevards with patient curiosity. Paris offers museums, parks, and temptations aimed at careless travelers. A timely kindness to a stranger draws him into a local difficulty that suggests more than a single incident, and he resolves it without grandstanding, preferring tact and clear evidence. His articles begin to find readers, bringing small but steady income. A new ally—practical, quick-witted, and proud of European traditions—joins the party, while hints of disguise and misdirection indicate the rival’s continued interest. The journey’s purpose remains unchanged: learn widely, keep promises, and earn every mile forward.
In the high country, an excursion intended as recreation demonstrates the group’s reliance on teamwork. A misstep on rock or ice turns a simple outing into a measured test of judgment, where Frank’s calm commands as much respect as his strength. He refuses provocations designed to force a personal quarrel, insisting that disagreements be settled under rules everyone accepts. Quiet perseverance proves more effective than bluster. Underneath the scenic interlude lies an unsettling pattern: small accidents that do not seem accidental and strangers who know the itinerary too well. Frank notes these signs, resolves to stay alert, and keeps the tour moving.
Historic cities farther south bring encounters with art, ceremony, and deft confidence games. When a well-dressed organizer pressures a young traveler with complicated paperwork, Frank questions the arrangement and patiently reconstructs the facts. His quiet intervention prevents harm without inviting scandal, adding to a reputation for practical helpfulness. The adversary reappears at a distance, now attached to ambitious acquaintances who favor shortcuts and secrecy. Frank, meanwhile, divides his time between modest-paying engagements and study, choosing the slower path that sustains the trip. A small act of generosity underscores the subtitle’s promise: upward progress measured by honest effort, not by the trappings of status.
Central Europe adds rigor and order, qualities mirrored in the sporting fixtures Frank enters. The venues emphasize rules and impartial judges, and a disputed call forces him to live by the standards he advocates. His acceptance of an unfavorable moment earns goodwill that matters later. Invitations to leverage his name for quick money arrive and are declined. His writing sharpens, and a serialized account of travel and competition secures a better fee. At the same time, fragments of a larger scheme surface—whispered claims about forged proofs and a contested legacy that touch new friends—and the earlier rival seems oddly informed about private arrangements.
As the itinerary converges on a major festival and athletic exhibition, the strands tighten. Success there would finance the journey’s remainder and vindicate Frank’s steady approach, but interference grows bolder. Anonymous warnings, rearranged schedules, and a night pursuit through narrow streets demand quick coordination with trusted companions. Frank prepares methodically, emphasizing teamwork and clean tactics, and refuses schemes that would give him an undue edge. A final test looms—part contest, part exposure of mischief—bringing his values into direct conflict with expediency. The narrative builds tension without abandoning restraint, holding outcomes just out of sight while making clear the stakes for character and livelihood.
The aftermath unfolds across familiar boulevards and new stations, with explanations arriving as letters, witnesses, and official statements replace rumor. Relationships shift: a skeptic concedes respect, an ally reveals a hidden motive, and a stubborn foe loses the advantage of surprise. Frank’s prudence with money and his willingness to accept small, reliable work mean the tour can continue on schedule. He secures means to travel further without debt, chooses obligations carefully, and places achievements where they belong—evidence of steady effort, not causes for boasting. The closing chapters align opportunities for the next stage while preserving uncertainties that keep future adventures open.
Overall, the book blends travel narrative, athletic episodes, and light intrigue to present an argument for character as capital. The subtitle describes more than a plot device: Frank’s upward progress arises from diligence, fair dealing, and readiness to help, not from luck or patronage. The sequence of cities offers variety without breaking continuity, each setting providing tests that echo earlier lessons. Rivalries sharpen but remain within bounds of honor. The tone remains brisk and optimistic, with setbacks framed as opportunities to practice discipline. Readers leave with a clear sense of purpose: improvement through honest work, broadened horizons, and loyalty to principle.
Historical Context
Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward unfolds against the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century transatlantic world, when American prosperity met Europe’s Belle Époque. The story’s implied itinerary—capitals like London, Paris, and Rome, Alpine resorts, and grand hotels—reflects the democratized “Grand Tour” made possible by steamships and railways. Serialized for a mass readership in Street & Smith’s Tip Top Weekly during the 1890s–1900s, the narrative assumes a moment of expanding American influence amid Europe’s glitter and tensions. It situates an athletic Yale-bred hero within cosmopolitan spaces marked by technological spectacle, aristocratic ceremony, and the subtle frictions of nationalism, policing, and class hierarchy on the eve of the First World War.
The Belle Époque (c. 1871–1914) forms the most immediate European backdrop, characterized by urban modernization, consumer spectacle, and cultural confidence. Paris epitomized this milieu: the Eiffel Tower (1889) crowned an architectural and technological ethos later amplified by the Exposition Universelle of 1900, which drew roughly 50 million visitors and showcased electricity, moving pictures, x-ray apparatus (after Röntgen’s 1895 discovery), and national pavilions projecting soft power. The Paris Métro opened its first line in 1900, symbolizing the rationalized urban movement that also underwrote tourism and sport. The 1900 Olympic events, folded into the exposition, linked athletics to civic progress, a crucial resonance for a series that exalts disciplined, fair competition. London’s late-Victorian and early Edwardian modernization, Berlin’s electrified streets and department stores, and Vienna’s Ringstrasse culture all offered stages where an American protagonist could navigate modern amenities alongside rigid social codes. Switzerland’s resorts and the Alpine railroad feats—the Gotthard Tunnel (1882) and, later, the Simplon Tunnel (1906)—advertised mastery over nature consonant with heroic physicality. Within such spaces, Merriwell’s clean sport and ingenuity reflect the era’s faith in self-improvement and the public virtue of athletic display, while his encounters with titled elites or urbane con men mirror the Belle Époque’s contradictions: dazzling openness paired with sharp inequalities and sophisticated grifts. By moving through these emblematic sites, the book implicitly catalogs Europe’s modern networks—boulevards, funiculars, seaside esplanades—and measures them against American resourcefulness, suggesting a comparative civic lesson about vigor, merit, and technological optimism.
American expansion and confidence after 1898 provide a second axis. The Spanish–American War (April–August 1898) made the United States a colonial power in Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines, while Cuba entered a U.S. sphere. Secretary of State John Hay’s Open Door Notes (1899–1900) asserted equal trade access in China; Theodore Roosevelt’s diplomacy and the Great White Fleet’s circumnavigation (1907–1909) projected maritime strength. Though not a war novel, the book’s poised, courteous yet assertive American hero reflects this international posture. His gentlemanly conduct abroad performs a soft counterpart to strategic power, modeling how U.S. citizens were imagined to represent their nation’s vigor and fairness within European salons and sporting arenas.
Revolutionized travel and tourism structure the plot’s plausibility. Transatlantic steamers run by Cunard and White Star linked New York to Liverpool, Southampton, and Cherbourg in under a week by the 1890s; submarine telegraph cables (first durable Atlantic cable, 1866) shrank communication time. Continental rail corridors and luxury services such as the Orient Express (launched 1883) stitched Paris to Vienna and Constantinople, while engineering milestones—the Gotthard (1882) and Simplon (1906) tunnels—cut beneath the Alps. Baedeker guidebooks and bourgeois hotel chains normalized the “Grand Tour” beyond elites. These infrastructures enable the swift movement, chance encounters, and public contests that the narrative leverages, placing Merriwell in exhibition halls, sporting grounds, and cosmopolitan lobbies where reputations are made and tested.
European nationalism and alliance politics shadow the era. The German Empire, unified in 1871, pursued Weltpolitik under Kaiser Wilhelm II (r. 1888–1918), straining relations through naval expansion; Britain’s Entente Cordiale with France (1904) and the later Triple Entente (1907) counterbalanced the Triple Alliance (Germany, Austria-Hungary, Italy, 1882). The launch of HMS Dreadnought (1906) accelerated an Anglo–German naval race. In France, the Dreyfus Affair (1894–1906) exposed fractures of republicanism, militarism, and antisemitism. While the novel does not parse diplomacy, its motifs of honor, reputation, and fair adjudication echo these concerns: an American sporting code is set against European suspicions, secretiveness, and the brittle prestige of rank and regiment.
Class stratification and labor unrest mark the social landscape. Britain’s “New Unionism” after the 1889 dock strike broadened labor’s base; the Labour Representation Committee formed in 1900, becoming the Labour Party by 1906. In France, the Confédération générale du travail (CGT, 1895) organized strikes; the 1906 Courrières mine disaster killed about 1,099 workers, provoking nationwide protests. Germany’s Social Democratic Party grew dramatically after 1890 when Anti-Socialist Laws lapsed. Touring palaces, factories, and boulevards, the American hero moves between salons and streets, dramatizing contrasts between aristocratic privilege and urban precarity. The book’s ethic of industry and clean play implicitly critiques inherited status by rewarding merit, discipline, and public-spirited generosity.
Anarchist violence and modern policing form another subtext. European heads of state were assassinated by anarchists in quick succession: French President Sadi Carnot (1894), Spain’s Prime Minister Antonio Cánovas del Castillo (1897), Empress Elisabeth of Austria (1898), and Italy’s King Umberto I (1900). These shocks spurred surveillance, passport checks, and criminological innovations such as Alphonse Bertillon’s anthropometry in the 1880s and the spread of fingerprinting after 1892. Popular fiction answered with plots of pursuit, disguise, and international swindles. Merriwell’s encounters with forgers or confidence men reflect this climate, positioning athletic prowess and moral rectitude as civic defenses aligned with modern law, order, and the ideal of transparent identity.
As social and political critique, the book elevates meritocratic ideals against the performative hierarchies of Europe’s fin-de-siècle elites. By rewarding fair play, public competition, and self-reliance, it rebukes unearned privilege, cosmopolitan grift, and decadent leisure that neglects civic duty. Its courteous but assertive American protagonist models transnational conduct that neither capitulates to aristocratic pretension nor indulges in bullying nationalism. Set amid exhibitions, rail corridors, and grand hotels, the narrative exposes vulnerabilities in reputational economies governed by title and ornament, arguing—through action rather than tract—that justice, open rules, and disciplined labor are superior grounds for social authority in an age of spectacle and inequality.
Frank Merriwell in Europe; or, Working His Way Upward
CHAPTER I.THE ARRIVAL AT TANGIER.
“Hurrah, Ephraim, here we are at last!”
It was Frank Merriwell who spoke. He was standing on the deck of a steamer which was approaching the coast of Morocco. Beside him stood his old chum and former schoolmate, Ephraim Gallup, from Vermont.
“Is thet Tangier?” came from Ephraim, as he gazed ashore with interest.
“It is.”
“Funny looking place, I must say. Not a bit like the United States. But it’s a heap sight better nor them places we stopped at in South Africy, by gosh.”
“Let us hope so. I trust we have a more quiet time here than we did there.”
“Great catfish, Frank, so do I! Why, it was awful, the things thet happened to us in Africy. No, I don’t want no more sech happenin’s in mine, by gum!”
As old readers of the Frank Merriwell stories know, Frank was now on a grand tour to different quarters of the globe. On the death of his guardian he had come into possession of much money, and his guardian had desired that he do some traveling before settling down. Frank was to take with him a professor and one boyish companion. At present the professor, Horace Scotch, was not with the youth, but Ephraim was, and the two had just come up from the lower coast of Africa, where they had passed through numerous adventures, as related in “Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.”
“Look, Ephraim!” went on Frank. “Yonder is Tangier, lying like a snow-white pearl on the shore of the blue Mediterranean. It is a sight to quicken the blood.”
He pointed to the white walls of a city that could be plainly seen.
“It looks purty fair from here,” admitted the Vermonter; “but ‘cordin’ to yeour own statement abaout it, it won’t look so well when we git there.”
“That is very true; but it is the gateway to a strange land for us—[1q]a land of strange people, strange customs, of wonders and marvels innumerable. Besides that, I am tired of the sea, and I long to get ashore once more.”
“By gum! I don’t blame ye fer that. But I’d ruther git ashore where folks are civilized. I’ve seen enough uv black men an’ heathen.”
Frank laughed.
“Surely we have had our fill of them; but I would not like to return home without visiting Morocco.”
Before long the speed of the steamer began to lessen, and it finally came to a stop, the anchor chains rattling, as the anchors were dropped.
“Hang it all!” exclaimed Ephraim, clutching Frank’s arm. “Will yeou jest look there! Is that a gang uv crazy critters comin’ to attack the steamer, ur what do they want?”
Some boats were pulling off from the shore, and behind them was a swarm of tattered Arabs, half naked, wading in the water, advancing toward the vessel, waving their arms wildly, and uttering strange cries.
“Evidently that is one of the queer things we are to see in this country,” said Frank, quietly.
The boats reached the steamer, and the passengers were hurried into them by the boatmen. Frank and Ephraim succeeded in getting into one boat, and were called on to pay for their passage immediately after they had left the steamer.
The boats moved toward the throng of tattered terra-cotta-colored human beings, some of whom had waded in the water to the middle of their thighs.
As soon as this disreputable-looking horde was reached it precipitated itself upon the boats. The passengers were seized by the jabbering gang, as if they were to be put to death without delay.
One old fellow grabbed Ephraim and tried to drag him from the boat.
“Git aout!” squawked the boy from Vermont.
He hit the old Arab a back-handed blow with the flat of his hand, knocking the man over in a twinkling.
But the old Arab was not to be baffled in such a manner. Dripping with water, he scrambled up and grappled with the excited youth.
Seeing a catastrophe was coming, Frank lost no time in climbing out of the boat to the shoulders of a burly mulatto, where he sat in a comfortable position, waving his hat and shouting:
“Go it, boys! I’ll bet two to one on Vermont! Yankee Doodle forever!”
“Stand off, ye black pirut!” howled Ephraim, who had been somewhat blinded by the splashed water. “Keep yeour dirty hands off me, or I’ll——Wa-ow!”
Over went the boat, precipitating the boatman and the Yankee lad into the water, where there was a general floundering about, much to the amusement of the other passengers.
Frank Merriwell’s hearty laugh rang out.
“If this is a sample of what we’ll strike in Morocco, we’ll have fun,” he cried.
Ephraim came to the surface, spouting like a whale.
“Hang ye!” he squealed, standing up and shaking his fist at the bewildered Arab. “Yeou wait till we git on dry land, critter! I’ll fix ye!”
Then he began to wade ashore.
“I am surprised, Ephraim,” said Frank, soberly, “that you should make such a racket over a matter like this. The tan-colored gentleman simply wished to carry you ashore, as the water is too shoal to permit the boats to approach nearer. You will observe that all the passengers are going ashore in that manner.”
The lad from Vermont looked around, seeing that Frank spoke the truth. The ladies were being carried ashore in chairs, while the male passengers bestrode the necks of the Arabs and negroes.
“Wal, why in thutteration didn’t they tell a feller what they was arter!” growled Ephraim, looking ashamed and disgusted. “They acted jest ez if they wanted to murder the hull on us.”
When the shore was reached, Frank paid for the transportation of both himself and Ephraim, as the old fellow whom the Vermonter had upset demanded payment.
“Here we are!” Merriwell cried. “And now we will find a hotel.”
Inquiry revealed that there was one European hotel in the city, and Frank secured a guide to pilot them thither.
Ephraim grumbled as they made their way along. He was dripping with water, and presented a ludicrous aspect, but the populace in the streets did not smile upon him. He was greeted in a stoical, indifferent manner, as if he were a worm of very small importance. Men drew aside from the boys, and women avoided them, while children fled in terror.
“Real sociable people,” chuckled Frank. “Judging by the way they act, any one would think we must be blood-thirsty savages.”
Nearly all the people in the streets were enveloped in a sort of long, white woolen cloak, with a large cowl, generally worn straight up on the heads, so that the whole city presented the aspect of a convent of Dominican monks.
Some of these hooded people passed gravely, slowly and silently, a dreamy look in their eyes, as if their thoughts were far away; some remained seated or crouching along the walls, or at the corners of houses, immovable and with fixed eyes, like the enchanted ones of the “Arabian Nights.”
On their way to the hotel they passed through several narrow, winding streets, flanked by small white houses, without windows, and with small, mean doorways, through which it could not be easy to enter.
In many of the streets nothing was to be seen but the whiteness of the walls and the blue sky overhead.
Nearly all the streets were littered with rotten vegetables, feathers, rags, bones, and sometimes with deceased cats and dogs.
As may be imagined, the odors were often anything but agreeable.
At long intervals were seen groups of Arab children, playing or reciting verses from the Koran in a nasal drone.
Beggars were plentiful, squatting along the streets.
Here and there the nostrils of the boys were assailed by the odor of garlic, burnt aloes, benzoine, fish, and things unnamable.
The square was reached, and was found to be a little rectangular place, surrounded by wretched shops.
At one side was a fountain, around which was a crowd of Arabs and negroes, engaged in drawing water in various vessels.
At the other side of the square, veiled women were seated on the ground, offering bread for sale.
The little square was thronged with almost naked vagabonds, rich Moors, Jews, employees of the legations, the houses of which were near at hand; interpreters and beggars galore.
For the time, Ephraim forgot that he had received a ducking. He looked around, his jaw dropping.
“Hanged ef this don’t beat the deck!” he muttered. “Never saw nothing like this before.”
“It is rather interesting,” replied Frank. “I fancied you would find it so.”
At this moment a veiled girl suddenly broke away from two men, who seemed to be acting as her escorts, gave a low cry of joy, rushed toward the boys, and flung her arms about Merriwell’s neck, sobbing:
“Frank! Frank! they said you were dead!”
Never in his life was Frank Merriwell more astonished. He could scarcely believe he had heard aright.
Ephraim Gallup caught his breath and gurgled:
“Wal, by gum!”
Shouts of surprise and rage broke from the men who had accompanied the girl. Quickly drawing short, curved swords from beneath their cloaks, they sprang toward the lads.
“Unhand her, Christian dogs!” roared one, flourishing his sword, as if he would cut Frank down in a moment.
“Take me away!” implored the girl. “I am willing to go with you now! Do not let them touch me again!”
That appeal was enough to arouse the chivalry in Frank’s nature. Swinging her to one side, he drew a revolver.
“Stand off!” he ordered, sternly.
“And keep off!” squealed Ephraim, as he let his clinched fist shoot out and catch one of the men under the ear.
It was a heavy blow, and the old Moor was knocked down in a twinkling.
A roar went up from all sides, and a rush was made for the two lads, who found themselves surrounded by a furious and raging mob.
It had come about with marvelous swiftness, so that even Frank was a trifle bewildered.
Some of the mob brandished daggers and scimiters, and all seemed thirsting for the blood of the two youths.
The old fellow who had been knocked down got upon his feet, waved his arms, and shouted forth an order.
In the twinkling of an eye, the lads found themselves overwhelmed. The revolver was dashed from Frank’s hand, the girl was torn from his grasp, and he received a blow that staggered and dazed him.
Ephraim was used no less severely.
The second Moor, the one who had shouted at Frank in English, now ordered the mob back. He addressed them in Arabic, and they seemed to give over the assault on the boys with great reluctance, drawing back slowly.
Not knowing what might follow this move, Frank held himself in readiness for anything, regarding the old Moor with no little curiosity.
The man turned on the boys, gazing at them gloweringly, as if he longed to annihilate them, yet hardly dared. After some moments, he spoke.
“Knaves,” he growled, “you should die. Do you know what you have done, miserable Christians?”
“Attempted to defend a girl who appealed to us, but I made a sad failure of it,” replied Frank, looking around for the mysterious girl, but seeing nothing of her.
“You have defiled her with your touch, and she is the Pearl of Tangier[1]! But that is not all. You struck Ben Ahmet, who is her uncle and protector, and who is also a descendant of Mohammed, the sacred one.”
“Is that so!” drawled Ephraim, dryly. “Wal, I wouldn’t ‘a’ struck Ben ef I hedn’t thought it necessary. As he’s a trifle older then I be, I’m sorry I hit him at all. Jest tell him I apologize.”
“Bah! That will not wash away the stain. Your blood would have flowed if he had ordered it so. From this hour you are marked. If you remain in Morocco you shall not escape just punishment for your offense. It is best that you delay not in leaving the country.”
Frank whistled.
“This is interesting,” he said, coolly. “We have just arrived.”
“It matters not. If you would live, depart at once.”
“Well, we will think it over. We can’t go till the steamer leaves, unless we swim across the straits, and that would be too much trouble.”
“I have spoken.”
“And who be yeou?” demanded Ephraim.
“I am Ali Mustaf, the Cadi of Thwat, favored by the Prince of Believers and Vicegerent of God upon Earth.”
“Wal, gol dern my cats!” gasped the boy from Vermont. “We didn’t know we’d run up against anything like that. Will yeou excuse us for livin’!”
“You have heard. Take heed.”
Ali Mustaf turned and waved his hands to the throng, whereupon the mob slowly and reluctantly dispersed, giving the boys many black looks, and muttering sullenly.
Ali Mustaf and Ben Ahmet moved away.
“What in the world became of that girl?” muttered Frank, looking about. “She disappeared in a twinkling.”
“She was carried away by some uv the craowd,” said Ephraim. “One uv them old varmits must hev told them to take her away.”
“And she knew me.”
“She did?”
“Surely. Didn’t you hear her call me by name?”
“I guess I did. But haow in thunder did she happen to know yeou?”
“That is a mystery—one I would give something to solve.”
Then Frank’s face became clouded again, and he bit his lip, looking about in an unsatisfied way.
“How shall I find her again?” he murmured. “I did not see her face. I should not know her if I saw her.”
“I kainder guess we’ll have aour hands full, without botherin’ abaout her. Mister Mustaf informed us that we was marked.”
“That was a bluff to scare us out of the country. These swarthy fellows do not like Christians. They dare not harm us, however. If they did, they would not have stopped when they were crowding around us a short time ago.”
“Mebbe yeour right, Frank. Yeou ’most alwus be, but somethin’ kainder tells me we’ll have more trouble with Mister Mustaf and Mister Ahmet.”
“I could not go away without making another attempt to see that mysterious girl. Something tells me she is in serious trouble. Besides that, my curiosity is aroused, and I must know how she learned my name. It is possible I have met her before. More than that, I have thought of another possibility.”
“What is it?”
“She spoke perfect English.”
“Yes.”
“Which is remarkable, as everything indicated she could not be more than sixteen or seventeen.”
“Wal?”
“Moorish girls of that age are not likely to have opportunities to learn the English language.”
“I s’pose not.”
“Can’t you see what I am driving at?”
“Dunno’s I kin. I’m kainder thick-headed.”
“Why, she may not be a native of this country at all—she may be an English or American girl.”
“Great gosh!”
“And she may be a captive. It is possible she has been kidnaped for the harem of some miserable old Moor. The thought makes my blood boil. Ephraim, we have a mission in Morocco. It is to find that girl and rescue her, if needs be. We will do it!”
“We will do it!”
Before the eyes of the wondering rabble the dauntless boys clasped hands.
CHAPTER II.FRANK SEEKS INFORMATION.
When they looked around for the guide whom they had employed to lead them to the only European hotel in the city it was found that the fellow had fled, affrighted by the encounter which had taken place in the square.
The boys were about to look for another guide when, with cries of surprise and joy, a small, red-whiskered man, dressed in a tourist’s traveling suit, such as is worn in hot countries, came hurrying toward them.
“Hang me ef I don’t b’lieve I’ve seen him afore!” exclaimed the boy from Vermont. “Them whiskers look nattral. It is——”
“Professor Scotch, as I live!” joyfully shouted Frank Merriwell. “Will wonders never cease! This is miraculous.”
The little man ran forward and caught Frank’s hands, looked into his face, as if making sure he was not mistaken, and then clasped the boy in his arms.
For some time the little man was nearly overcome with joyful emotions, and Frank was scarcely less delighted.
It was, in truth, Professor Horace Scotch, Frank’s guardian, who had thus marvelously appeared in Tangier.
Mutual explanations followed quickly. Frank told how he happened to be there, and then the professor related how on arriving in London he had received a letter from the boy, but had been disappointed beyond measure when Frank did not appear in due time. He had written scores of letters and sent many telegrams, but had been unable to learn anything more than that Frank had left Buenos Ayres in a vessel bound for South Africa, but which had been lost at sea.
The professor had nearly given up all hope of ever seeing his protégé again, thinking Frank must be dead. He resolved, however, to make every effort to ascertain the facts as to Frank’s fate, and had left London for that purpose.
The United States Consul at Tangier was an old friend of the professor, and thus it came about that Scotch had visited him.
Then the boys came.
The professor was so agitated that his explanation was somewhat incoherent, but Frank was able to get the drift of it.
When his excitement had subsided a bit, the little man began to scold. He soundly berated the boy for running off to South America without permission and continuing over the world on his own hook.
Frank listened quietly, a smile on his face.
“There, there, professor,” he finally said. “What’s the use of making a fuss about it. Wait till we get to the hotel, and I will explain more fully why I went to South America.”
So the professor led the way to the hotel.
The professor had obtained a native servant by the name of Azza, and the fellow was immediately dispatched for the luggage of the two boys, being given a written order by them.
While waiting for the luggage, the trio talked matters over.
Azza returned with the luggage in due time.
Both lads lost no time in exchanging their clothing for suits of white duck, suitable for the climate.
“There!” exclaimed Ephraim. “I feel better, by gum! Them wet duds warn’t comfortable.”
A square meal followed, and then Frank told the professor of their adventure since arriving in Tangier.
“Merciful goodness!” gasped the little man, with uplifted hands. “It’s a wonder you were not both killed. These Moors are dreadful creatures, and they do not consider the life of a Christian of any consequence. I have heard of Ben Ahmet[2]. He is very rich.”
“I don’t care about him,” said Frank. “What I want to know is if that girl was truly his niece.”
The professor called Azza, and Frank questioned the fellow.
Azza declared that Ben Ahmet had a niece who was known far and wide as “the Pearl of Tangier,” a title which had been given her when she was yet a child. It was rumored that she was very beautiful. Her name was Igela.
Igela’s father, unlike most Moors, had traveled much outside his own country. Originally he was a very poor merchant, but it was said he had traveled as far as London and had learned tricks of trade from Christian dogs, so that he came back to his own country and soon made a fortune.
He was an exporter of goods, largely handling the caps made at Fez. One of his customers, a great English merchant, once visited him, and was received graciously in the Moor’s house. This was but shortly before the death of Igela’s father.
Igela was the old merchant’s only child. He regretted much that she was not a boy, for she displayed much business capability.
The old merchant left his property to his child, intrusting her to the care of his brother, Ben Ahmet.
Ben Ahmet had also made much money, but he was quite unlike his brother. He hated Christians so that he would not do business with them, and he would not speak a word of their language, although he understood much of it.
Seeing that Igela was budding into womanhood and was very beautiful, Ben Ahmet made her conceal her face with a veil. Still she was known far and wide as the Pearl of Tangier.
There were many who sought Igela for a wife, but it was said that she had acquired strange notions of marriage, and had refused to accept the man whom her uncle chose, saying she would suit herself in that matter.
That was all Azza knew about her.
“Very interesting,” commented Frank; “and still unsatisfactory. It seems that Igela knew me to-day, and that she can speak almost perfect English. Who is Ali Mustaf?”
“He is a powerful cadi, or tax-gatherer,” answered Azza. “It is said that he seeks the Pearl for a wife.”
“Ha! Then that explains his remarkable interest in her, and it likewise explains why she fled from him. This is becoming as interesting as a romance. I feel in duty bound to offer her my assistance. But how am I to do so?”
That was a question not easily answered, and Frank puzzled over it for a long time.
Professor Scotch was alarmed by what had happened, by Frank’s manner, and by the threat which the Moor had uttered against the boys. He was in favor of getting out of Morocco without delay, but Frank had no thought of being frightened away thus quickly.
“Look here, Azza, old boy,” he said, “I’ll make it worth your while if you will take a note to Igela. Can you do it?”
“I can try.”
“Well, that is something.”
In vain the professor urged him not to send a note, nor to attempt to communicate in such a manner with the mysterious girl.
“Don’t get fluttery, professor,” advised Frank, coolly. “If you try to be too strict with me, I may take a fancy to run away again.”
The professor groaned.
“You are incorrigible,” he declared. “It is impossible to do anything with you.”
So Frank wrote the note and sent Azza out with it, offering him a tempting reward if he would deliver it into the hand of Igela, and warning him to give it up to no other person. He worded it briefly as follows:
“To Igela, ‘The Pearl of Tangier’:
“Are you in trouble? Do you need assistance. If so, tell me how I may aid you.
Azza was away from the hotel for nearly two hours. At length he returned and placed a folded paper in Frank’s hand, saying simply:
“This is her answer.”
Eagerly Frank opened the paper, but in a moment a look of disappointment came over his face.
“It is written in Arabic,” he said. “I cannot read it.”
Azza bowed low.
“It will give me great pleasure to read it for you,” he said.
Frank scanned the fellow closely.
“Can you read writing?” he asked, as if somewhat doubtful.
Azza assured him that he could both read and write. Frank hesitated a moment, and then passed the note to the servant. Azza translated it as follows:
“I am in great trouble, and you can aid me. Come this evening at nine. Azza will guide you. Trust all to him.
Frank frowned, and then he questioned the Arab.
