“It matters not. If you would live, depart at once.”
“Well, we will think it over. We can’t go till the steamer leaves, unless we swim across the straits, and that would be too much trouble.”
“I have spoken.”
“And who be yeou?” demanded Ephraim.
“I am Ali Mustaf, the Cadi of Thwat, favored by the Prince of Believers and Vicegerent of God upon Earth.”
“Wal, gol dern my cats!” gasped the boy from Vermont. “We didn’t know we’d run up against anything like that. Will yeou excuse us for livin’!”
“You have heard. Take heed.”
Ali Mustaf turned and waved his hands to the throng, whereupon the mob slowly and reluctantly dispersed, giving the boys many black looks, and muttering sullenly.
Ali Mustaf and Ben Ahmet moved away.
“What in the world became of that girl?” muttered Frank, looking about. “She disappeared in a twinkling.”