Dick Merriwell Abroad: or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten

His escape from death he had truthfully described to Mullura ere striking the fatal blow. A woman whom he had befriended in the house where he lived had bandaged his wounds and hidden him away, although in mortal terror of her life while doing so. Of course she had declared, when questioned, that she knew nothing of the desperate encounter on the stairs.

The gratitude of both Reggio and Teresa toward their American friends was very great.

The joy of the girl who had thus found her brother may be imagined, but no words can describe it. It happened that Reggio had come to those friends for shelter, and thus he had been on hand when Mullura appeared.

“Well, partner,” said Buckhart, after all these matters had been settled, “we’ve certain had a warm time in Venice while it lasted. It was somewhat too warm, but this calm after the storm is altogether too calm. I’m getting a bit restless. I think we’d better float on.”

“So do I,” nodded Dick. “What do you say, professor?”

“All right, boys – all right,” nodded Zenas. “We’ll jog along into Greece, but it will be just like you to get into some sort of trouble there and keep me nerved up all the time.”

“Hurrah for Greece!” cried Dick.

CHAPTER XXII. – BEFORE THE PARTHENON

“There it is, boys – there it is!” exclaimed Professor Zenas Gunn, in a voice that actually choked with deep emotion. “Behold ‘the casket of the rarest architectural jewels of the world – the temple-crowned Acropolis’!”

“She seems to be a right big old rock,” observed Brad Buckhart; “or is she just a hill?”

“Both a rock and a hill, Brad,” laughed Dick Merriwell. “It is mainly a natural mass of rock, but in places it has been built up by substantial masonry.”

“Correct, Richard,” nodded the professor, approvingly. “It is plain you have posted up on the Acropolis and that you remember something of what you read. I regret that, in spite of my advice, Bradley seems much disinclined to post himself in advance concerning the historical spots we choose to visit.”

“What’s the use?” said the Texan. “I know you’ll tell us all about them, professor, and I’ll remember it a heap better by hearing you tell it, than by reading it in a dry, old book. You have such a fascinating way of telling things, you know, that any one who hears you can’t help remembering every word you speak.”

“Hum! ha!” coughed Zenas, much flattered. “I presume that is true. I think it quite probable you are correct. Under the circumstances, Bradley, you are excusable.”

The two boys and the professor had arrived at the port of Athens near sundown the previous day. The sail through Grecian waters on a fine steamer was one long to be remembered. Repeatedly the professor reminded them that they were traversing the scenes of famous maritime adventures and struggles of ancient history, and that every shore they beheld had been made famous by poets, philosophers and wise men of the days when Greece was the pride, the glory, and the envy of the world.

Night had fallen before the trio reached the capital, which is located six miles from the port. Therefore, being tired and somewhat spiritless, they suppressed their desire to look around and waited for the following day.

And now, beneath the bright morning sunshine, they viewed the Acropolis, which, on account of its history, the professor declared was the most wonderful sight in all the world.

On three sides this great mass of rock and masonry, which looms above the modern city at its base, is practically perpendicular. On its summit stand the white columns and pillars of its ruined temples, which two thousand years ago were perfect in their grandeur and which are conceded to have been specimens of architectual beauty never equaled in modern times.

“Think,” said the professor; “think of Greece in the glorious days when yonder rock was crowned with beautiful temples! We’ll mount to its crest, boys, and soon our feet may touch the very stones once pressed by the feet of Demosthenes. We will stand beside pillars whose shadows may have fallen on Pericles and Phidias. Is it not enough to stir a heart of stone! Let us hasten.”

The old pedagogue was actually trembling with eagerness and excitement.

“All right, professor,” said Dick. “Lead on and we’ll follow.”

“Yes,” said Brad, “hike as fast as you choose, and we’ll keep up with you.”

To their surprise they found the city very modern in appearance, and this surprise was increased on beholding a train of street cars drawn by an ordinary steam engine. Still the people were interesting in their native garments, and the language was what they had expected to hear.

At last they approached the Acropolis. As they drew near they beheld around its base a mass of ruins of the most picturesque character.

“Whatever sort of buildings were those, professor?” inquired the Texan.

“They were theatres,” answered the old man. “The theatre of Bacchus, of Odeon, and others stood at the base of the great rock. You behold the ruins of those theatres. Somewhere in this vicinity is the dungeon of Socrates, in which he drank the hemlock. We’ll find it ere we leave Athens.”

They were compelled to make inquiry of a peasant before they found the only path by which the great rock could be ascended. The professor found it necessary to rest several times before the summit was reached, but still his enthusiasm buoyed him up in a wonderful manner.

As they reached the plateau the professor turned to look back on the city spread below them.

“Yes,” he said, nodding and speaking as if addressing himself, “I had almost forgotten. Why, it was only a little more than half a century ago that Athens was demolished by the Turks. Hardly a house in the place was left in condition for human beings to inhabit it. That is why we see this modern city here.”

Although they did not betray it as much as did the professor, both lads were profoundly moved by their situation.

For a few moments Dick seemed to feel himself transported back to Fardale, and he saw himself in his little room poring over Homer’s electrifying verse or deep buried in Xenophon’s incomparable prose. He knew that from this hour, as he stood by the pillared gateway of the Acropolis, he would understand the old Greek poets and philosophers better and appreciate them more.

“Come, boys,” said Professor Gunn, in a hushed tone, “we’ll pass through this ruined gateway, which was called the Propylæa, and which cost two and a half million dollars. Think of that! Think of it, and then behold these ruins. Touch them reverently with your hands. You are treading on sacred ground.”

When they had passed beyond the ruined gateway all halted in wonderment, for before them spread the entire plateau and they saw it was literally bestrewn with fallen columns and shattered statues. And directly before them, at the highest point of the plateau, rose the ruins of a snowy white temple, the Parthenon.

The spectacle was one to render them silent and speechless. They stood quite still and gazed in awe at the ruins.

At last Zenas spoke. He had his hat in his hand, and he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, although the day was cool.

“Words fail me, boys,” he said. “I wonder if you understand what it is to behold this spectacle. Look on this scene of desolation wrought by the hand of ruthless man. It is quite enough to make the gods weep!”

“However was she ruined, professor?” inquired Brad.

“It occurred something like two hundred years ago. At that time the Parthenon stood almost unchanged in its matchless magnificence. The Turks used it as a powder magazine. The city was besieged by an army of Venetians. They bombarded the town. One of their shells exploded in the powder magazine. Behold the result!”

“Say, that was a whole lot bad!” exclaimed the Texan. “It sure was a shame!”

“Let’s get nearer,” urged Dick.

They threaded their way amid the ruined columns and statues, drawing nearer to the ruins of the Parthenon. The professor told them how the Parthenon had been despoiled of its treasures.

At that moment they seemed to be quite alone on the plateau of the Acropolis, but suddenly, from amid the pillars of the temple, dashed a Grecian girl, who did not seem to be more than sixteen years of age. She saw them and uttered a cry.

A moment later two men appeared in close pursuit of her. Both were Greeks. One was a man of forty-five or a little more, while the other could not have been much past twenty-one. They shouted for the girl to stop.

She ran toward the boys and the old professor, and the cry that came from her lips was one of terror and appeal. Her pursuers were close on her heels.

“By the great horn spoon!” shouted Buckhart, “here is where we mingle in a red-hot old scrimmage, pard! There will be something doing on the top of the Acrop in a moment!”

“Boys, boys, boys!” exclaimed the professor, in great agitation and alarm. “Do be careful! Those men look dangerous!”

“Would you have us see a woman in distress without showing our manhood?” demanded Dick, as he also prepared for an encounter. “We’ll protect her, Brad.”

“Now you’re shouting!” cried the Texan. “We’ll certain check the careless behavior of those gents some.”

“Englishmen – good Englishmen!” cried the girl; “save me!”

She was panting and wild-eyed as she reached them. She seized Dick’s arm with her shaking hands. In truth she was very pretty, with clear-cut Grecian features and eyes as blue as the skies of Athens.

“We’re not Englishmen,” said Dick, “but you can count on us just the same.”

“You bet you can, just as long as the American eagle flaps its wings to the tune of Yankee Doodle,” asserted Brad.

Dick placed her behind them saying:

“Look out for her, professor, while we discuss the matter with these boisterous gentlemen.”

“Boys, boys, boys!” again fluttered the old man. “Do be careful! Do be discreet! You’ll get us all into no end of trouble.”

By this time the two men had reached the spot, and the elder at once demanded in Greek the possession of the maiden.

“Although we’ve scanned that language under compulsion,” said Dick, “we are not prepared to talk it. If you will use plain United States, we may be able to chat with you.”

With an assumption of politeness, the man immediately begged their pardon in fairly good English, saying he had not thought in his excitement to address them in other than his own language.

“The girl,” he said; “I take her.”

“Wait a bit,” remonstrated Merriwell, declining to move. “As you can talk a modern language, we’ll discuss this matter. The girl seems frightened. What is all the trouble about?”

The elder man drew himself up haughtily, while the younger glowered on the boys.

“It is no bus’ness to you,” was the answer.

“Then I opine we’ll have to make it our business,” muttered Buckhart.

“But she is frightened, and she seeks our protection,” said Dick. “It is the habit of all decent Americans to protect women in distress.”

“Let him not touch me!” entreated the girl, speaking again with that indescribably bewitching accent which Dick had noted in her first appeal to them.

“She mere child,” said the man haughtily. “I am her uncle, and I take her.”

“Oh, you’re her uncle?”

“I am.”

“Well, tell us why she fled from you and seemed so excited and frightened.”

“No bus’ness to you,” again asserted the man.

“He want make me do something I hate!” exclaimed the girl. “He make me marree Maro.”

“Oh, ho! And who is Maro?”

The girl pointed at the younger man.

“And you do not wish to marry Maro?” questioned Dick.

“Oh, no, no, no!”

“Don’t blame you,” put in Brad. “If Maro wears that thundercloud on his mug all the time, he’d frighten a Hottentot, much more a civilized girl. Go change your face, Maro.”

The young man did not seem to understand this fully, but he darted a deadly look at Brad, then urged his companion to make a move at once.

“Look out, boys – look out!” panted Professor Gunn. “He says you are mere children and easily crushed. He wants to attack you at once.”

“Whoop!” cried Brad, squaring away. “Let him wade right in! Let them both break loose and come at us! They’ll find the children ready for business, you bet your boots!”

“Steady, Brad,” cautioned Dick. “We’ll fight if we have to.”

“And I sure reckon we’ll have to, pard.”

“It looks that way, but let’s not rush matters. Keep a cool head.”

Dick feared the men were armed, which would give them an additional advantage. Under ordinary circumstances it would not seem a difficult thing for them to obtain the mastery over the two boys, but those boys, in spite of their years, were remarkable athletes and clever fighters, and they believed they could hold the Greeks good play unless deadly weapons were produced. Neither lad counted on assistance from Professor Gunn.

The elder man grew impatient and again demanded possession of the girl, asserting that the boys would be punished for interfering, as he was the one who had sole authority over her.

“Where is her father?” asked Dick. “Is he dead?”

“Not dead,” explained the girl quickly. “In India. He leaf me with Tyrus.”

“So the old boy’s name is Tyrus?” muttered Brad.

“Tyrus Helorus,” said the man haughtily. “If wise, you not int’fere in Greece with one who have name Helorus.”

“The Helorus you say!” grinned Brad.

“That what I say!”

“Thanks! You’re so kind! I reckon we’d better introduce ourselves. Gents, this here is Dick Merriwell, a fighter from his toes to his scalp lock. He lives on scrimmages. To him a good fight is the breath of life. If he goes a whole day without a fight he loses flesh and becomes a whole lot downcast. I’ve seen him whip seven men in concussion. He looks young, but he’s fought enough to be older than these ruins. I’ll wager the contents of my warbags that the professor and I can sit down and look on comfortable while he wallops the both of you in one round.”

“That will about do,” muttered Dick.

“Wait,” urged Brad. “Don’t cut me out of presenting myself. I, gents, am Bradley Buckhart, from the Rio Pecos country, Texas, U. S. I’ve been brought up where they have man for breakfast every morning. It gets to be a regular morning treat for us in Texas. I am some off my feed just at present, not having had any man this morning. You’ve happened along just in time to relieve my famished condition. So sail in, both of you, and we’ll proceed to chaw you up. You hear me sweetly carol!”

The Greeks looked at him in bewilderment, and well they might. It is likely that they took this talk for a bluff; but, if so, they were soon to learn that Brad Buckhart was one of those rare bluffers who invariably “made good.”

A silent chap with fighting blood in his veins is generally regarded as formidable and dangerous when aroused, but once in a while it happens that a talkative chap is just as dangerous.

Those who saw and heard Brad for the first time were almost certain to fancy he would show the white feather at the last moment. Those who had seen him often and knew him well never doubted that he would unflinchingly enter a den of roaring lions if he felt it his duty to do so.

The natural chivalry of Buckhart’s nature had been stirred by the appearance of the girl and by her appeal for protection, and therefore he was ready to lay down his life in defense of her right there on the plateau of the Acropolis.

It was but natural that Professor Gunn should be much alarmed over the situation, for he felt that, to a large extent, the safety of the boys was in his hands and he was responsible for them.

Therefore the old man now proposed that they should all go to a magistrate or some official who had proper authority and that the case should be submitted to him.

To his astonishment this seemed to infuriate both the Greeks. They cursed him and the boys for interfering and sneered at the proposal of submitting the matter to any official. One more demand they made for possession of the girl, and it was plain they meant to take her by force if refused.

They were promptly refused by both boys, who placed themselves shoulder to shoulder in front of the shrinking maiden.

With a snarl of rage, the younger Greek drew a knife.

“Oh, heavens!” moaned Professor Gunn. “There will be bloodshed!”

Then, to his greater horror, he saw Dick and Brad attack the men, declining to wait to be attacked themselves.

CHAPTER XXIII. – FIGHTING BLOOD OF AMERICA

It was Dick Merriwell’s theory that in an encounter that promised to be unequal a sudden and surprising assault might more than outbalance the odds.

In this case he determined to put the theory to the test.

Brad understood Dick so thoroughly that it was not necessary for the latter to utter a word of command. He simply made a slight signal that was unobserved by the Greeks, and when he leaped forward the Texan was at his shoulder.

It was a daring thing to do, considering the fact that Maro, the younger man, had drawn a knife. Still Dick knew they would be compelled to fight or surrender the girl, and he had no thought of following the latter course. As it was necessary to fight, it was better to attack than to wait for the attack.

Merriwell singled out the man with the knife. Before the fellow realized what was happening, the boy was on him. Then Maro tried to lift the knife for the purpose of using it, at the same time uttering a snarl of astonished rage.

That snarl was broken midway, for Dick seized the fellow’s right wrist with his left hand, preventing him from making a stroke with the gleaming blade. At the same time the daring American lad gave Maro an awful jolt with his right.

Dick knew how to put force into a blow, and he knew how to land a blow that would put the other fellow “all to the bad.” That punch, backed with the boy’s weight, simply knocked the wind out of his antagonist.

Then Dick gave the man’s wrist a wrench that seemed to snap the bones. The knife flew from Maro’s fingers and struck with a clang against a prone and headless marble statue.

Having succeeded thus swiftly in disarming the rascal and knocking the wind out of him, Dick felt confident that he had accomplished the most difficult part of the task.

In the meantime Buckhart, roaring like an angry bull, went at Tyrus Helorus. The older Greek was no mean antagonist. He side-stepped in a manner that enabled him to avoid the full fury of the Texan’s rush, at the same time seeking to get hold of the boy with his powerful hands.

“Fool American!” he grated.

“Whoop!” shouted Brad, wheeling and coming at the man again. “Shades of Crockett and Bowie! you’re some spry on your feet!”

The Greek clutched Brad’s collar.

“Ha!” he cried in satisfaction.

“Ha! yourself, and see how you like it!” said Brad, as he delivered a body blow in the ribs.

But that blow, although struck with just as much force, perhaps, was not as effective as the one struck by Dick, for the reason that it did not land on the spot to count as heavily.

The Greek jerked Brad nearer and fastened both hands on him.

“Fool!” he said again.

Then he gathered the lad in his arms.

“I’ve been hugged by grizzly bears,” said Buckhart, in relating the adventure afterward, “but I certain allow that that old Greek gent sure could out-hug them all. When he closed in on me I heard a general cracking sound all round my anatomy, and I allowed at least nine of my ribs was bu’sted then and there. I sure did.”

In fact, Brad was robbed of his strength by that squeeze, and, for the time being, was helpless in the power of Tyrus Helorus.

Professor Gunn had been hopping round, first on one foot and then on the other. He was terribly excited, but suddenly, in a most astonishing manner, he flew at the fellow who seemed to be crushing Brad.

“Let that boy go, you wretch!” he cried, in a high-pitched voice. “Don’t you dare hurt one of my boys!”

Then he proceeded to claw at Tyrus in a manner that bewildered and confused the man for the time being.

The Greek relaxed his hold on Buckhart, enabling Brad to get a breath. With a wrench and a squirm the Texan twisted clear. He half dropped, and then his arms closed about the knees of the man. A moment later the Greek was lifted clear of his feet and pitched headlong against a marble slab.

The shock seemed to stun him.

“Much obliged, professor,” panted Buckhart. “You certain chipped into the game at just the right juncture.”

“Hum! ha!” burst from Zenas, who suddenly realized that he had done something. “They want to look out for me when I get started. I’m dangerous – exceedingly dangerous.”

By this time Dick had punished the younger Greek in a manner that led him to take to his heels in the effort to escape.

“Stop him!” shrilled Zenas.

“Let him go!” exclaimed the boy promptly. “If he’ll keep on running I’ll be pleased.”

Maro dashed in amid the ruins of the Parthenon and disappeared.

Tyrus lay where he had fallen.

“My goodness!” exclaimed Zenas, gazing in apprehension at the prostrate man. “I hope I didn’t kill him – I really hope I didn’t. Of course, it was in self-defense – or, rather, in defense of one of my boys; but still I hope I didn’t finish him when I struck him that last terrible blow.”

The old man seemed to really believe he had knocked the Greek down.

Dick turned to look for the girl. Pale and trembling, she stood with clasped hands, seemingly quite overcome by what had happened.

“Don’t be afraid, miss,” said Merriwell. “You are safe for the present.”

She gave him a flashing look of admiration from her splendid blue eyes. Then suddenly she seemed to think of the fallen man, and a moment later she was kneeling by his side, calling him by name and crying that he was dead.

“I do not think he is dead,” said Dick, attempting to reassure her. “Let me see.”

Even as the boy placed an inspecting hand on the breast of Tyrus the eyes of the man opened and he heaved a sigh. The girl gave a cry of gratitude and relief. He turned on her a glance that made her tremble, and in his native tongue he began to mutter threats which sent her to her feet like a startled fawn.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” advised Merriwell. “A man who can growl like that isn’t badly hurt. He’ll be all right in a short time.”

“Then – then he make me marree Maro!” she gasped. “I better die!”

“What are we going to do about it, pard?” asked Brad. “Whatever can we do to help her?”

“That’s a puzzling question,” admitted Dick. “Evidently this man is her guardian, and we’ll get into no end of trouble if we try to take her from him. She ought to be able to appeal to the proper authorities for protection.”

“Tak’ me to Charlee,” entreated the girl.

“Charlie?” exclaimed Dick. “Who in the world is Charlie?”

“I love heem!” she declared. “He grandes’ man in the world! He grandes’ man ever live! I marree Charlee!”

“Ah, ha! So that’s the way the wind blows?” cried Dick. “There is another man in the case, and that’s why old Tyrus is trying to force you to marry Maro?”

She nodded violently.

“Charlee come to tak’ me to my father, in India,” she said. “When Maro find that so he come to Tyrus, say I never go, say I marree heem. Tyrus say I must marree Maro. Say I never meet Charlee no more. That brek my heart. I cry no, no, no! They tak’ me from home, so Charlee never find me when he come. They tak’ me where I have to stay in small room all time till Maro marree me. I geet out. I run. I come here. Charlee say he come here often look at ruins. I think he may come now. I wait. Tyrus and Maro come find me. I try to run. I see you. I call for help. That all.”

“It’s enough!” cried Dick. “Where is this Charlie? We will take you to him.”

She shook her head in distress.

“He somewhere in citee,” she said, with a sweep of her hand.

“A whole lot indefinite,” observed Buckhart.

Dick asked the girl if she did not know in what hotel Charlie was to be found.

She did not.

“What is the rest of his name?” questioned Dick. “Do you know it?”

“Whole name Charlee Cav’deesh,” she declared.

“Cavendish?”

“That right.”

“It’s up to us, Brad,” said Merriwell, “to find Charlie Cavendish as soon as possible.”

“I opine it is,” nodded the Texan.

“In the meantime,” said the professor, “we’ll all be arrested for kidnapping the girl. Boys, boys, is it impossible for you to keep out of scrapes?”