Even as he spoke they came to a street corner where several saddled horses were waiting, after the manner of cabs in an American city.
“Me to the broncho!” cried Brad.
“There is the tram car,” said Dick, with a motion.
The car was seen a short distance away, and the professor favored choosing that method of conveyance. Mustapha, however, for all that he had invited them make their choice, argued against it, explaining that half the car was reserved for ladies and that the other half was always crowded to suffocation.
Therefore they decided on the horses. Soon they were mounted and on their way up the long hill to Pera.
Although much of its beauty had vanished, the strange sights and sounds of the city keenly interested the American lads. They beheld people of many nationalities, yellow-coated Jews, with corkscrew curls, Bohemians, Nubians, Chinamen, Englishmen—all hastening on their various ways.
Pera proved to be a city quite modern in appearance, made up mostly of monotonous four-storied houses, new hotels, and shops filled with machine-made Oriental goods. The houses were flat-roofed and nearly all of them had balconies with cast-iron railings.
At last they arrived at their hotel, where they settled with Mustapha, who settled in turn with the owner of the horses.
“When I come next?” asked Mustapha. “You need interpriter dat spik lanquages well. I tak’ you all ofer efrywheres. You haf much troubles you try go ’thout good dragoman.”
By this time the professor had fully recovered, and he made arrangements with the dragoman, who then took his departure.