Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks by Bracebridge Hemyng (books for men to read .txt) 📕

and would have cut her down.

But Jack could stand no more.

Bounding forward from his hiding-place, he seized the uplifted hand and wrenched the sword from his grasp.

Then, without a word, Jack struck the man with the flat of his sword upon the back of the head.

The Turk sank to the ground with a hollow groan.

It was all so momentary that the beautiful Circassian girl looked on as one in a dream.

Hearing footsteps now, Jack ran to the doorway and peered out.

"Quick!" exclaimed Jack. "Lend me a hand, or we are lost."

She could not understand his words, but his meaning was plain enough.

They pulled the body into the sack as quickly as possible.

Then they hastily tied the cord around the neck of it.

This done, Jack extinguished the lamp.

There was no time to be lost.

He took the girl by the hand, and pulled her back into the nook where he had been hiding, just as the two villainous eunuchs entered the chamber.

The two eunuchs came slowly along the corridor.

Finding the place, as they thought, deserted, they simply raised the sack from the ground, thinking the body of the young Circassian girl was in it, and bore it to the opening.

One swing and over it went.

As it fell, a hollow groan came from the sack.

The two men stared at each other aghast, and looked over the opening.

But before they could utter a word, a stealthy form had crept up behind them, and with a vigorous drive, hurled them both over after the sack.

A wild, despairing yell, and the waters closed over these wholesale butchers.

CHAPTER LXXI.

LOLO'S GRATITUDE AND JACK'S DELIGHT—THE SIGNAL—UNEXPECTED TURN OF LUCK—A FAMILIAR VOICE—WHO IS IT?—"SURELY! NEVER!"—READ AND LEARN.

"That's a good job done!" said Jack, looking after the wretches he had pushed over.

The fair Circassian burst into tears now that the peril was over.

Falling upon her knees, she seized Jack's hands and pressed them to her lips.

She poured out a long string of thanks in the most eloquent language.

Although the language was so far wasted upon Jack, he could not fail to comprehend her meaning.

"There, there," said Jack, squeezing her hand in reply to her caresses, "don't take on so, my dear girl. The danger's over now."

But was it?

They had yet to get away.

Jack was no worse off than when in his prison ten feet higher up, it is true.

But what of Lolo?

How was she to manage?

While he was cogitating over this he heard a shrill whistle from below.

He ran to the window.

"Hist, Jack!" cried a familiar voice from the water.

"Hullo!"

"Drop down, Jack," returned Harry's voice. "Here I am, in a boat, as snug as a domestic pest in a railway wrapper."

Comic and tragic were so jumbled up in this startling series of adventures, that Jack scarce knew whether to laugh or to cry.

He did neither.

There was a rope close, handy upon a sack—its destination had certainly not been to save life—and Jack, with the quickness of thought itself, fastened it around the Circassian girl's waist.

She understood his meaning, and lent him all the assistance she could.

Once at the window, he fastened it securely, and proceeded to lower it down.

She looked down the dizzy height, and slightly shuddered.

And then, before trusting herself down, she threw her arms around her young preserver's neck, and embraced him tenderly.

"Bless you," said Jack, with emotion. "If I only bring you safe through this, it will be the proudest day in my life."

Now for it.

It was a perilous moment, for the poor girl could not help herself in any way.

But she was lowered in safety.

"Look out," said Jack, in a good loud whisper; "I'm coming now."

"Look sharp, then," called out Harry. "I smell danger."

"Make haste, dear boy," added a familiar voice.

The sound thrilled Jack strangely.

He was so full of the present adventure and its perils, that he could not give much thought to the voice now.

Yet it rang on his ears as of old days.

"You're nearly down," said Harry Girdwood. "Drop now, old fellow."

Jack obeyed.

As soon as he reached the boat, he was seized in the arms of the Circassian girl, Lolo, who hugged him as if she would never part with him again.

"Now, my love," said that same familiar voice, "when you've done with that boy, I should like to have one touch at him. What do you say, Jack, my lad?"

"Heaven above!" ejaculated Jack "Why, it's Mr. Mole."

"Right, dear boy," returned Mr. Mole. "Isaac Mole himself, turned up in the very nick of time. God bless you, Jack."

"And you, too, sir. How are they all at home? My mother, my——"

"There, there," interrupted Harry; "we'll have the family history when we're fairly out of musket-shot range. If they find out any thing, they'll pot us off as easily as shooting for nuts at a fair."

"All right," said Jack, laughingly. "Pull away."

"Pull away, boys."

"Aye, aye, sir."

They had a good boatload, yet they moved through the water pretty smartly.

The vessel which had anchored in the bay, and which showed the British ensign at her masthead, was the identical ship that our old friend Mr. Mole had come in.

The messages that they had sent back to the different stations upon their journey had been successful in guiding Mr. Mole aright, happily enough.

They had barely cast anchor, when Mr. Mole had been lowered in a boat, his intention being to come ashore, and get information, if possible, regarding the object of his cruise.

But little did he think of picking up his information in the water.

Yet such was the case.

When half-way to shore, they came upon Bogey swimming swiftly along.

A few words of hurried explanation sufficed, and the astounded Mole had the boat pulled flush up beneath the windows of the Konaki, first rescuing Harry Girdwood and then Lola the Circassian girl, and Jack, as we have described.

CHAPTER LXXII.

THE PICNIC—FIGGINS AGAIN IN TROUBLE.

After Jack had placed the beautiful girl in safety, he arranged for Mr. Mole to tell him the news from home.

"Your dear father and mother are in a woeful state about you, Jack," said Mole.

"Why?" asked young Jack.

"I don't like beginning with reproaches, my boy," returned Mr. Mole, "but I must, of course, tell you. Your little extravagances have been troubling your father a great deal."

"I can throw some light on that subject," replied Jack. "I have been robbed. Cheques have been stolen from my book, and my signature forged."

Mr. Mole looked grave.

"Is this the fact?" he asked.

"Of course. However, we need not go further into that just now. Give me the news. How is Emily?"

"Very well in health, but spirits low—sighing for her Jack," said Mole, wickedly.

"Did she tell you so?" demanded Jack.

"Not exactly, but I can see as far through a stone wall as most people."

"Yes, sir, I believe you can," said Jack. "That is about the limit of your powers of observation."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Mole. "But I know how to comfort Emily, dear girl. She'll be quite resigned to your prolonged absence when she gets news of you. I have already written home to explain the odd circumstances under which I met you—that you were shut up in some dark room with a lovely Circassian girl, and that you subsequently rescued her, and how very fond of you the lovely Circassian seems, and——"

"I wish you would only meddle with affairs that concern you, Mr. Mole," said Jack, stiffly. "I don't want you to furnish information to any body about my movements."

"Very good," replied Mr. Mole, "I won't, then. I thought I might send a second letter, to say that I was quite sure you did not care a fig for the lovely Circassian."

Jack thought that this might be a desirable move, and so he tried to square matters a bit.

"Do so, and I will be your friend," he said.

"Consider it done," exclaimed Mole. "I like you as I did, and do, your father, but I must have my joke."

The perilous adventures which our friends had encountered on their expedition did not deter them from further enterprises.

Only two days after the events just recorded, Jack's party set out on a picnic excursion, to examine the beauties of the surrounding neighbourhood.

It was not towards the desert that they directed their steps this time, but in the opposite direction.

Mr. Figgins, upon this journey, showed his usual talent for getting into scrapes.

On passing under a group of fine fig-trees, nothing would suit him but he must stand upon his mule's saddle in order to reach some of the fruit.

As he was still not high enough to do this, he made a spring up and caught one of the lower branches, to which he clung.

Suddenly the mule, we know not from what cause, bolted from underneath, leaving the luckless orphan suspended.

Mr. Figgins soon relinquished the search in his anxiety for his own safety.

He saw beneath him a descent of some ten feet, and at the bottom a dense bed of stinging nettles.

How was he to get down?

Dropping was out of the question, for it would be like a leap into certain torture.

However, Harkaway called out to him to hold on, but not so loudly as Figgins bawled all the while for help.

Meanwhile, Bogey and Tinker had started after the escaped mule, which they found some difficulty in capturing.

When it was at length secured, the animal was placed in his former position under the tree, and firmly held by the two negroes.

"Now let yourself down, Figgins," cried Jack; "drop straight and steady."

Figgins tried his best to obey.

When he let go the branch, it rebounded with a force that threw him out of the perpendicular, and instead of landing upon the mule's back, he fell and landed on the bed of stinging nettles.

The orphan roared lustily—as indeed well he might—for, besides being shaken by the fall, the pain he soon felt in every portion of his frame exposed to the nettles was excruciating.

When the party emerged from the forest, a scene of unusual beauty broke upon their vision.

"This is a charming spot," observed Harkaway.

"And just the thing for a picnic," added Harry. "I vote we halt under those trees and begin operations."

Hampers were then unpacked, bottles uncorked, and application made to a pure stream of water which flowed near the spot.

At length all was ready.

Poor orphan, the first mouthful he took seemed to consist of cayenne pepper.

The cup of water, to which he naturally applied for relief, also appeared to have been tampered with, for it tasted as salt as the briny ocean itself.

Next, and also naturally, he drew forth his pockethandkerchief, but ere he could carry it to his mouth, dropped it in haste and with a cry of horror, for it contained an enormous frog, which, in its struggles to escape, fell plump into his plate.

Mr. Mole laughed loudly, whereat Mr. Figgins was naturally offended at the schoolmaster, and began to suspect that it was he who had been playing these practical jokes upon him.

Bogey and Tinker, the real promoters of the orphan's discomfiture, observed this with great inward mirth, but they soon afterwards got into a little trouble themselves.

Harkaway, turning suddenly round, discovered the two black imps making sad havoc with the sweets.

"You young scoundrels," shouted Jack, angrily grasping his riding-whip; "take your fingers off that jam pot immediately."

"I was on'y a-openin' it, sar, ready for de company," exclaimed the unabashed Tinker.

"What's that you have in your hand, Bogey?" proceeded Harkaway, alluding to something which the darkey was hiding suspiciously behind him.

"Only a bit o' bread I brought in my pocket, sar," was the reply.

"Show it us, then, directly, sir."

Bogey accordingly produced a crust from apparently a loaf of the week before last, but while doing so, Jack's sharp eyes detected that the nigger dropped some other eatable, in his hurried endeavour to ram it into his pockets unseen.

"There, our large currant and raspberry tart!" exclaimed Harkaway. "You artful monkey. I owe you one for this, and I mean to pay you now."

Darting at them, Jack just managed to give Bogey and Tinker a cut each on the shoulders with his whip as