“Don’t you worry,” laughed Dick. “Major Fitts will look out for her. All I ask is that he keeps her away from us.”
“I don’t think the major wants to see us again,” chuckled Brad. “I’m sure he wouldn’t fancy having the story of that duel get back to Natchez, Mississippi.”
“Well, boys, shall we spend the afternoon in talk, or shall we go out and see something?” asked the professor.
They quickly decided that they were ready to go out, and once more rose the question of what they should see.
“I have it!” cried the old pedagogue.
“Name it,” urged Dick.
“The Underground Palace.”
“What’s that?”
“You haven’t heard of it? Good! It’s the very place for us to visit this day. Wait; I’ll send for Mustapha. Hope he’s not engaged, for we must go over into Stamboul, and I do not fancy visiting that place without a good guide and interpreter.”
“I should say not!” exclaimed Dick. “If ever there was a place just made to get lost in it’s Stamboul, with its maze of narrow, crooked, unnamed streets and unnumbered houses.”