As old readers of the Frank Merriwell stories know, Frank was now on a grand tour to different quarters of the globe. On the death of his guardian he had come into possession of much money, and his guardian had desired that he do some traveling before settling down. Frank was to take with him a professor and one boyish companion. At present the professor, Horace Scotch, was not with the youth, but Ephraim was, and the two had just come up from the lower coast of Africa, where they had passed through numerous adventures, as related in “Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.”
“Look, Ephraim!” went on Frank. “Yonder is Tangier, lying like a snow-white pearl on the shore of the blue Mediterranean. It is a sight to quicken the blood.”
He pointed to the white walls of a city that could be plainly seen.
“It looks purty fair from here,” admitted the Vermonter; “but ‘cordin’ to yeour own statement abaout it, it won’t look so well when we git there.”
“That is very true; but it is the gateway to a strange land for us—a land of strange people, strange customs, of wonders and marvels innumerable. Besides that, I am tired of the sea, and I long to get ashore once more.”
“By gum! I don’t blame ye fer that. But I’d ruther git ashore where folks are civilized. I’ve seen enough uv black men an’ heathen.”
Frank laughed.
“Surely we have had our fill of them; but I would not like to return home without visiting Morocco.”
Before long the speed of the steamer began to lessen, and it finally came to a stop, the anchor chains rattling, as the anchors were dropped.
“Hang it all!” exclaimed Ephraim, clutching Frank’s arm. “Will yeou jest look there! Is that a gang uv crazy critters comin’ to attack the steamer, ur what do they want?”