"Tare and 'ounds, ye blackyard omadhauns! Ye thavin' Saxin vaggybones!

ave ye'd only thread on the tail av me coat, so as to give me a gintlemanly excuse for blackin' yer squintin' eyes, I'd knock yez into next Monday week, the blessed lot av yez!"

The four visitors stared at each other in wonder.

They had not a word to say for themselves.

No wonder that it took their breath away.

The Irish diver was the first to find his tongue.

"By the blessed piper that played before Moses, here's an Irish Turk!"

"Stop that!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the slipper merchant; "av ye call me names, I'll have a go at yez av ye was as big as a house."

"Ye're Paddy from Cork," retorted the diver.

"Niver," protested the merchant, stoutly.

"Get along wid yez," retorted the diver, "ye Mahommedan Mormonite; now I'll take short odds to any amount up to a farden that that brogue came from Galway. Tell the truth, and shame the ould gintleman as shall be nameless."

The Turk had an inward struggle, and then he confessed. He was an Irishman, settled for some years in Turkey.

"But devil a word must ye say. Ye'll spoil me shop entirely," he said, "av the folks hereabout takes me for a Christian gintleman, and I shall be kilt intirely."

CHAPTER LXVIII.

PADDY MAHMOUD PLAYS THE PASHA--LOCAL STATISTICS--VISIT TO THE KONAKI--HOSPITALITY VERSUS AL KORAN.

The Irish Turk contrived, after some talk, that our friends should procure an entry into the palace of the pasha.

"Back stairs infloonce, me boys," said the Irish Turk, with a wink, "is an illigant inst.i.tooshn, and is jist as privlint here, sorrs, as it is in St. James's or at the castle."

"How do you work it?"

"I have my own particular pals, which shall be nameless, at the pasha's palace."

"Officers?"

The Irish Turk looked very demure and replied--

"Not exactly officers; officeresses, ye understand."

"You're a terrible Turk, Paddy," laughed young Jack.

"When shall we be able to get over the palace?" demanded Harry Girdwood.

"Come to me in the course of to-morrow afternoon," said the Irish Turk.

"We will."

This arranged, they strolled through the bazaar, trading and bartering with the dealers, and making an odd collection of purchases, to take home as curiosities.

But of all the curiosities, the most remarkable was perhaps a pair of real Egyptian mummies, which they discovered in the possession of a shrewd and greedy old Arab.

"We shall have quite an extensive museum," said Jack.

"Blessed if I care to see a brace o' stiff uns on board," growled Nat Cringle.

"We shall not for the present take them on board," said Jack; "we shall first take them to our rooms. We shall find some use for the mummies, eh, Harry?"

"I believe you, my boy," said Harry. "We'll name the mummies Mole and the orphan. Ha, ha!"

Well, that same afternoon, as agreed upon, young Jack and Harry Girdwood presented themselves at the residence of the Irish Turk, Paddy Mahmoud Ben Flannigan, as the boys had christened him.

They had got themselves up _a la Turc_.

Tinker and his attendant Bogey were also suitably attired.

They found the Irishman seated upon the floor with his legs under him.

He arose as the guests entered, and advanced to greet them politely.

"Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," he said, "and say what'll ye take before we get along."

Jack tipped the wink to his companion.

"I'd like a little nip of something to cure the belly-ache," he answered slily.

"Ye can have that same," responded their host.

He went to a cupboard, and produced a stumpy, but capacious bottle, and three gla.s.ses.

"Whatever is that?" said Harry, in affected surprise.

"A drop of the crater," responded Paddy Mahmoud, pouring it out.

"Here's your health," said Harry Girdwood.

The two lads nodded at their host, and sipped.

The Irish Turk tossed off his whisky at a gulp.