“And I,” cried Lawrence.
“Well,” said the professor gravely, “to be perfectly truthful, so am I. Here, mine host,” he said in Arabic, “bring us some more coffee.”
The man bowed low, smiled, and left the room with the empty cups, and returned directly after with them full, and after another glance at the scarlet and yellow turban, he looked at the swords and pistols and became more obsequious than ever.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Catching a Tartar.
If there had been any intention on the part of their host to deal deceitfully with them, he would have had plenty of opportunity, during about a couple of hours of the night, when it was the professor’s turn to keep watch, for he fell fast asleep, and was awakened by Yussuf, who shook his head at him sadly.
Morning came bright and cheery, with the birds singing, and the view from their window exquisite. Close at hand there were the mountains, rising one above another, and rich with the glorious tints of the trees and bushes that clung to their sides, and after gazing at the glorious prospect, with the clear air and dazzling sunshine, Mr Burne exclaimed:
“Bless me! What an eligible estate to lay out in building plots! Magnificent health resort! Beats Baden, Spa, Homburg, and all these places, hollow.”