During the meal the giant black man stood ready to wait on them. When not serving them, he folded his tattooed arms across his massive chest and regarded them steadily with his eyes. When they had finished the assistant reappeared, and the table and dishes were removed.
“I sure would hate to have that gent place his paws on me in violence,” observed Buckhart. “I opine he’s some powerful.”
“He looks like a Hercules,” said Dick.
“He made me extremely nervous,” confessed the professor. “I think I’ll inform the proprietor that we would much prefer having some one else attend us while we are here.”
“Don’t!” exclaimed Merriwell. “I rather fancy the Nubian.”
They lounged about for a time after eating, but finally the professor made an excuse to leave the boys, saying he would return soon.
“Pard,” chuckled Buckhart, when Zenas was gone, “the old boy did get a plenty smashed on the woman from Boston.”
“I’m glad we got him away from her—and from Major Fitts.”
“And I’m glad we won’t be bothered any more by that sneaking Turk, Aziz Achmet, who seemed spying on us. Wonder what Aziz took us for. I believe he was some sort of Turkish confidence man. He was a heap eager to act as Major Fitts’ second in a duel.”
“Think of Zenas Gunn in a duel!” exclaimed Dick, and they laughed heartily.