Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 16

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

"It does," nodded d.i.c.k. "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 astonis.h.i.+ng ease and skill. Great hedges of cactus stretched along the railroad in many places. They gazed with interest at the old-fas.h.i.+oned irrigating ca.n.a.ls. 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 d.i.c.k were saying.

Finally d.i.c.k 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 b.u.t.t the train off the track, somewhat to the grief of Mr. Camel."

Men now came running toward the spot, all greatly excited. They were princ.i.p.ally 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k began the examination, but a husky fellow prevented the chap from attacking the American boy.

"I don't believe he is dead," declared d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k 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 p.r.o.nounced. 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.

d.i.c.k 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.

d.i.c.k 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.