“Humph!” ejaculated that gentleman, putting it on with a comical expression of disgust in his countenance. “Here, you, Lawrence, if you dare to laugh at me, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Do, please, Mr Burne,” cried the lad, “for I must laugh: I can’t help it.”
So he did laugh, and the professor too, while the old lawyer gave an angry stamp.
“Look here,” said the professor; “shall I wear the fez, and you can take my hat?”
“Stuff, sir! you know your head’s twice as big as mine,” cried Mr Burne.
“Have mine, Mr Burne,” said Lawrence.
“Bah! do you think I’ve got a stupid little head like you have. No, I shall wear the fez, and I hope we shall meet some English people. It will be a warning to them not to come out into such wild spots as this.”
The fact was that the old gentleman looked thoroughly picturesque, while Yussuf looked scarcely less so, as he rapidly turned the roll of muslin which he had taken from his fez into a comfortable white head-dress and put it on.
Then, taking the stick and the straw hat, he climbed up to the top of the ridge, where they saw him shoulder the stick and walk to and fro as if on guard, before rapidly arranging the hat upon the top of a little cypress-tree, and placing the stick through the branches at a slope.
So cleverly was this done, that even from where the travellers stood just below, the ruse was effective. Seen from a quarter of a mile away it must have been just like Mr Burne on sentry.