“Thank Heaven!” mutters John, still keeping his back toward the newcomer.
Phœnix glances sharply toward him, as if his ears have caught this last remark, and then he throws an inquiring look at Craig, who smiles and touches his forehead in a meaning way which brings a knowing expression on the other’s face.
“A little off, eh? That’s all right—no offense taken, I assure you. Now see here, Mr. Craig, when you tossed that copper-colored Turk over to me last night on the Midway, like a bundle of rags, you thought that was the end of him—that he was out of the game. I know you did, but you never made a greater mistake in all your life, sir.
“I have made a study of these vagrants of the Midway. Was a tramp myself once and can understand their ways, you know. Queer people, the Turks, and their leading characteristic, sir, is revenge. Even a lapse of twenty years will not make them forget.”
This may be an accidental thrust, and probably is, but it strikes home. Samson Cereal starts and looks anxious, feeling that he has some concern in this game.
“As I wandered about that entrancing region early this evening, my ear charmed with the sweet music of the never ceasing tom-tom, or the cry of the bum-bum candy vendor, my eyes feasting on the beauties of Samoan and Lapland architecture, I chanced to catch a glimpse of the Turkish nabob. Ever since I had that whirl at him last night I have been in low spirits. I wanted to repeat it. If no one got in the way I believed I could even see your throw and go one better.
“So it entered my mind to follow the Turk and watch for a chance. Gentlemen, behold the working of fate! I dogged his steps. Presently from the gorgeous Turkish village he sought the classic shades of Cairo Street, where I was quite at home.”
“I could swear to that!” says John, but having been warned, the narrator of the Modern Arabian Nights pays no attention to this interruption beyond a shrug of the shoulders.
“It was a question with me, I assure you, whether I should hire a donkey and run Mr. Turk down, or mount a camel and chase him the length of the street, for you see my animosity was aroused. Then I began to notice that he was holding mysterious confabs. First he met two fellows just outside the Turkish barber shop and handed over some money. Then, further down the street, two more turned up.
“By this time I believed a conspiracy was on foot to loot the Midway. A man could retire for life if he did that. I resolved to save the Fair, no matter what the loss of time and money was to me; and, gentlemen, under certain existing circumstances of which you are not aware, I assure you the former weighed more with me than the latter.”