Captured by the Arabs

  CHAPTER IV

  Lured to Danger

  Bob and Joe gasped in astonishment.

  "The train wrecked!" muttered Bob and then started. "What caused it?"

  "I imagine you're thinking the same as I," the archaeologist saidquietly. "That those thieves were responsible for it to prevent usfrom getting to Wargla at once."

  Joe's face glowed with anger.

  "The dirty beggars!" he cried. "Was anyone hurt?"

  "No. It happened that no one was. But the locomotive was derailed andlodged in a ravine, and the work of getting it back on the track andrepairing it won't start any too soon in this country. It may be twoor three days before order will be restored. It looks like thoserobbers have won out after all."

  They walked on into the room, where they were met by the boys' fathersand Fekmah.

  "Is there anything wrong?" asked Mr. Holton, as he noticed the soberfaces of his friends.

  The situation was explained, and the men frowned. Fekmah especiallywas agitated.

  "May the black monsters of Tidihet feast on them!" he exclaimed,running his fingers through his white hair. "Allah will punishthem--they will not go free!"

  "But that won't help us any," said Mr. Lewis dryly. "We've got tofigure out some way to stop them, if it's at all possible. Thequestion is, what will it be?"

  "There's no way of telegraphing," said Dr. Kirshner, gazingthoughtfully at the floor. "If we had any idea where they went--thatis, what route they took--we might overtake them on fast dromedaries.But the chances even then would be slight."

  "We might----" began Joe but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  For a moment the adventurers looked at one another in surprise. ThenMr. Holton moved over and cautiously opened the door.

  The figure that stood in waiting was a tall, powerful Arab, with dark,piercing eyes that were none too pleasant to look at. He toweredseveral inches above Mr. Holton, who was himself nearly six feet.Around the man's shoulders and reaching nearly to the floor was awhite gown, and on his head was the conventional _hlafa_.

  For several moments he stood looking at the occupants of the room, asthough forming a rapid opinion of the situation. Then he again turnedto Mr. Holton and muttered something in the native tongue.

  That Bob's father understood was evidenced by the look of surprisethat came on his face. A moment later he turned to his friends.

  "He says Fekmah is wanted by a friend," Mr. Holton said. "Won't sayany more. I don't know what to make of it."

  "A friend?" Fekmah gasped. "Why, I know no person here. What could itmean?"

  Again the stranger said something in Arabic and motioned for hisobjective to come out.

  For a moment Fekmah was thoughtful. Then he decided to investigate.

  "I will be back in short minutes," he said and walked toward the door.

  "Wait a minute," called Dr. Kirshner. "I'm going with you."

  "And I, too," cried Bob, getting up from his chair.

  Joe also put in a request, but the archaeologist shook his head.

  "Two more are enough," he said quietly, as he and Bob followed theArab down the hall.

  "Be careful," warned Mr. Lewis, as they reached the stairs. "There'sno telling what that fellow may want."

  They reached the street and were directed around the corner and up anarrow byway, the stranger remaining several yards in the van.

  "Keep a ready hand on your automatic," whispered Dr. Kirshner to Bob."Something may happen in a short time now."

  "Do you believe Fekmah is really wanted by friends?" the youth asked,glancing about as if he expected any minute to be confronted by a bandof desperate characters.

  "Beyond me," was the reply. "But I believe it would be safer to say nothan yes. But there is a possibility that he met someone and hasforgotten about it."

  "What could they want of him? It all seems funny to me."

  On they went, now upward by a gently sloping street that was socrooked it seemed to have no outlet.

  Suddenly the street stopped at a narrow, winding stairway that ledalmost straight up. All about were crowded houses of clay, dirty andweather-beaten and suggesting that only the very poorest of Arabslived there.

  Having made sure that the others were following him, the stranger ledthe way up the stairs. At the head was a small door, and this wasopened for them to go inside.

  But they hesitated.

  "Ask him what he wants," directed Bob. "There could be anything inthere."

  Dr. Kirshner turned to the Arab and in a stern voice put the questionbefore him.

  The latter surveyed the American closely, then said in the nativetongue:

  "I wish nothing of _you_. It is Fekmah who is wanted. But if you andyour friend must intrude, you may come in."

  The man's attitude did not win the friendship of the explorers, butchiefly because they were at a loss to know what to do next theyfollowed him inside.

  A moment later the door was closed and they found themselves in a sortof twilight.

  As soon as their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, they madeout four figures sitting in the corner of the room. The bare flooralone served the place of chairs, and the men seemed comfortable. Bobat once formed the conclusion that these Arabs were of the same typeas the stranger who escorted them here, and felt a bit uneasy. Hewould have felt much better with a hand on his gun, but this wouldhave aroused the suspicions of the natives. Nevertheless he kept onguard for any treachery. If it came to a fight, he knew that it wouldbe two to five, for Fekmah was, in his age, not capable of takingpart.

  None of the Arabs was able to speak English, evidently, but Dr.Kirshner knew the native language from his previous visits to NorthAfrica. And he promised to translate occasionally to Bob.

  But a moment later it was plain that there was little translating tobe done, for one of the Arabs said something to Fekmah and motionedfor him to come into the next room. The Americans were to remain wherethey were.

  "I don't like this," muttered Dr. Kirshner, as he and Bob were told tobe seated on the floor. "Anything may happen to him in there."

  "Suppose we go with him," suggested Bob.

  The archaeologist nodded. He arose from his chair and started tofollow, but one of the Arabs gently pushed him back.

  "It is Fekmah who is wanted," the fellow said in a queer bass voice."You will wait here. It will only be a moment."

  Dr. Kirshner had half a notion to push through and follow his Arabfriend, but he changed his mind and sat down with Bob on the floor.

  "What's the big idea of all this?" the youth asked in a puzzled voice."They trying to double-cross us or something?"

  The archaeologist did not answer, for he felt all too sure thatsomething serious was wrong. But what was there to do?

  There was no conversation between the archaeologist and the natives,for each seemed busy with his thoughts. Bob was extremely grave, andhe wondered what was taking place in the adjoining room. Perhaps theArabs wished to sell Fekmah something and did not wish to be thwartedby the whites. Or perhaps they wanted to engage themselves as guideson the coming expedition and knew they would have a better chance withFekmah than with the Americans. But whatever it was, Bob felt uneasy.If their friend did not return before long he would go after him, theyouth thought.

  "We'll wait a few more minutes," said Dr. Kirshner. "Then----"

  "Listen!" commanded Bob. "What was that?"

  "I didn't hear anything. What----"

  "There it is again. Sounds like a muffled cry for help. It's--it'sFekmah!"