“I’ll stick ter Frank. I don’t keer where he goes!”
Frank set about pleading the professor to succumb, and he was persuasive to a degree that astounded Ephraim. Indeed, it seemed that the boy almost hypnotized Scotch and led him to consent to follow the old Moors who were carrying Igela away.
The professor himself was amazed when he gave in, and he remained in a dazed condition while Frank called the proprietor of the hotel and bargained for three horses, which he instructed the professor to pay for.
The horses were quickly furnished, and Scotch paid for them, muttering a feeble remonstrance, but feeling unable to resist the power of the boy’s steady eyes, which never left his face for an instant.
Frank had triumphed, but he showed no exultation. His face was grim and set, and it seemed that he had formed a resolution from which nothing could turn him.
In company with the professor and Ephraim, he went out to seek information. He learned that two caravans had lately started for Fez, either of which might be overtaken by nightfall by hard riding.
That was what he wished to know.
Ali Mustaf and Ben Ahmet would travel with one of those caravans. Frank, Ephraim and the professor would travel with the other. Frank would bide his time, and he felt sure he would be able to meet Igela and speak with her.
It was a wild and desperate project at which a man would have hesitated, but Frank was a youth to whom nothing seemed impossible.
Back to the hotel they went. While they ate, the horses were ordered saddled and brought around. Frank had looked them over, and found them tough little Arab horses, looking as if they could travel and stand hardship. That satisfied him.