Our young adventurer had intended to pass the night in the little bed
at his hotel, but the atmosphere of Paris proved so hot and
disagreeable that he decided it would be more enjoyable to sleep while
journeying through the cooler air that lay far above the earth's
surface. So just as the clocks were striking the midnight hour Rob
mounted skyward and turned the indicator of the traveling machine to
the east, intending to make the city of Vienna his next stop.
He had risen to a considerable distance, where the air was remarkably
fresh and exhilarating, and the relief he experienced from the close
and muggy streets of Paris was of such a soothing nature that he
presently fell fast asleep. His day in the metropolis had been a busy
one, for, like all boys, he had forgotten himself in the delight of
sight-seeing and had tired his muscles and exhausted his strength to an
unusual degree.
It was about three o'clock in the morning when Rob, moving restlessly
in his sleep, accidently touched with his right hand the indicator of
the machine which was fastened to his left wrist, setting it a couple
of points to the south of east. He was, of course, unaware of the
slight alteration in his course, which was destined to prove of serious
importance in the near future. For the boy's fatigue induced him to
sleep far beyond daybreak, and during this period of unconsciousness he
was passing over the face of European countries and approaching the
lawless and dangerous dominions of the Orient.
When, at last, he opened his eyes, he was puzzled to determine where he
was. Beneath him stretched a vast, sandy plain, and speeding across
this he came to a land abounding in luxuriant vegetation.
The centrifugal force which propelled him was evidently, for some
reason, greatly accelerated, for the scenery of the country he was
crossing glided by him at so rapid a rate of speed that it nearly took
his breath away.
"I wonder if I've passed Vienna in the night," he thought. "It ought
not to have taken me more than a few hours to reach there from Paris."
Vienna was at that moment fifteen hundred miles behind him; but Rob's
geography had always been his stumbling block at school, and he had not
learned to gage the speed of the traveling machine; so he was
completely mystified as to his whereabouts.
Presently a village having many queer spires and minarets whisked by
him like a flash. Rob became worried, and resolved to slow up at the
next sign of habitation.
This was a good resolution, but Turkestan is so thinly settled that
before the boy could plan out a course of action he had passed the
barren mountain range of Thian-Shan as nimbly as an acrobat leaps a
jumping-bar.
"This won't do at all!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "The traveling
machine seems to be running away with me, and I'm missing no end of
sights by scooting along up here in the clouds."
He turned the indicator to zero, and was relieved to find it obey with
customary quickness. In a few moments he had slowed up and stopped,
when he found himself suspended above another stretch of sandy plain.
Being too high to see the surface of the plain distinctly he dropped
down a few hundred feet to a lower level, where he discovered he was
surrounded by billows of sand as far as his eye could reach.
"It's a desert, all right," was his comment; "perhaps old Sahara
herself."
He started the machine again towards the east, and at a more moderate
rate of speed skimmed over the surface of the desert. Before long he
noticed a dark spot ahead of him which proved to be a large body of
fierce looking men, riding upon dromedaries and slender, spirited
horses and armed with long rifles and crookedly shaped simitars.
"Those fellows seem to be looking for trouble," remarked the boy, as he
glided over them, "and it wouldn't be exactly healthy for an enemy to
get in their way. But I haven't time to stop, so I'm not likely to get
mixed up in any rumpus with them."
However, the armed caravan was scarcely out of sight before Rob
discovered he was approaching a rich, wooded oasis of the desert, in
the midst of which was built the walled city of Yarkand. Not that he
had ever heard of the place, or knew its name; for few Europeans and
only one American traveler had ever visited it. But he guessed it was
a city of some importance from its size and beauty, and resolved to
make a stop there.
Above the high walls projected many slender, white minarets, indicating
that the inhabitants were either Turks or some race of Mohammedans; so
Rob decided to make investigations before trusting himself to their
company.
A cluster of tall trees with leafy tops stood a short distance outside
the walls, and here the boy landed and sat down to rest in the
refreshing shade.
The city seemed as hushed and still as if it were deserted, and before
him stretched the vast plain of white, heated sands. He strained his
eyes to catch a glimpse of the band of warriors he had passed, but they
were moving slowly and had not yet appeared.
The trees that sheltered Rob were the only ones without the city,
although many low bushes or shrubs grew scattering over the space
between him and the walls. An arched gateway broke the enclosure at
his left, but the gates were tightly shut.
Something in the stillness and the intense heat of the mid-day sun made
the boy drowsy. He stretched himself upon the ground beneath the dense
foliage of the biggest tree and abandoned himself to the languor that
was creeping over him.
"I'll wait until that army of the desert arrives," he thought,
sleepily. "They either belong in this city or have come to capture it,
so I can tell better what to dance when I find out what the band plays."
The next moment he was sound asleep, sprawling upon his back in the
shade and slumbering as peacefully as an infant.
And while he lay motionless three men dropped in quick succession from
the top of the city wall and hid among the low bushes, crawling
noiselessly from one to another and so approaching, by degrees, the
little group of trees.
They were Turks, and had been sent by those in authority within the
city to climb the tallest tree of the group and discover if the enemy
was near. For Rob's conjecture had been correct, and the city of
Yarkand awaited, with more or less anxiety, a threatened assault from
its hereditary enemies, the Tatars.
The three spies were not less forbidding in appearance than the horde
of warriors Rob had passed upon the desert. Their features were coarse
and swarthy, and their eyes had a most villainous glare. Old fashioned
pistols and double-edged daggers were stuck in their belts and their
clothing, though of gorgeous colors, was soiled and neglected.
With all the caution of the American savage these Turks approached the
tree, where, to their unbounded amazement, they saw the boy lying
asleep. His dress and fairness of skin at once proclaimed him, in
their shrewd eyes, a European, and their first thought was to glance
around in search of his horse or dromedary. Seeing nothing of the kind
near they were much puzzled to account for his presence, and stood
looking down at him with evident curiosity.
The sun struck the polished surface of the traveling machine which was
attached to Rob's wrist and made the metal glitter like silver. This
attracted the eyes of the tallest Turk, who stooped down and stealthily
unclasped the band of the machine from the boy's outstretched arm.
Then, after a hurried but puzzled examination of the little instrument,
he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.
Rob stirred uneasily in his sleep, and one of the Turks drew a slight
but stout rope from his breast and with gentle but deft movement passed
it around the boy's wrists and drew them together behind him. The
action was not swift enough to arouse the power of repulsion in the
Garment of Protection, but it awakened Rob effectually, so that he sat
up and stared hard at his captors.
"What are you trying to do, anyhow?" he demanded.
The Turks laughed and said something in their own language. They had
no knowledge of English.
"You're only making fools of yourselves," continued the boy,
wrathfully. "It's impossible for you to injure me."
The three paid no attention to his words. One of them thrust his hand
into Rob's pocket and drew out the electric tube. His ignorance of
modern appliances was so great that he did not know enough to push the
button. Rob saw him looking down the hollow end of the tube and
murmured:
"I wish it would blow your ugly head off!"
But the fellow, thinking the shining metal might be of some value to
him, put the tube in his own pocket and then took from the prisoner the
silver box of tablets.
Rob writhed and groaned at losing his possessions in this way, and
while his hands were fastened behind him tried to feel for and touch
the indicator of the traveling machine. When he found that the machine
also had been taken, his anger gave way to fear, for he realized he was
in a dangerously helpless condition.
The third Turk now drew the Record of Events from the boy's inner
pocket. He knew nothing of the springs that opened the lids, so, after
a curious glance at it, he secreted the box in the folds of his sash
and continued the search of the captive. The Character Marking
Spectacles were next abstracted, but the Turk, seeing in them nothing
but spectacles, scornfully thrust them back into Rob's pocket, while
his comrades laughed at him. The boy was now rifled of seventeen cents
in pennies, a broken pocket knife and a lead-pencil, the last article
seeming to be highly prized.
After they had secured all the booty they could find, the tall Turk,
who seemed the leader of the three, violently kicked at the prisoner
with his heavy boot. His surprise was great when the Garment of
Repulsion arrested the blow and nearly overthrew the aggressor in turn.
Snatching a dagger from his sash, he bounded upon the boy so fiercely
that the next instant the enraged Turk found himself lying upon his
back three yards away, while his dagger flew through the air and landed
deep in the desert sands.
"Keep it up!" cried Rob, bitterly. "I hope you'll enjoy yourself."
The other Turks raised their comrade to his feet, and the three stared
at one another in surprise, being unable to understand how a bound
prisoner could so effectually defend himself. But at a whispered word
from the leader, they drew their long pistols and fired point blank
into Rob's face. The volley echoed sharply from the city walls, but as
the smoke drifted slowly away the Turks were horrified to see their
intended victim laughing at them.
Uttering cries of terror and dismay, the three took to their heels and
bounded towards the wall, where a gate quickly opened to receive them,
the populace feeling sure the Tatar horde was upon them.
Nor was this guess so very far wrong; for as Rob, sitting disconsolate
upon the sand, raised his eyes, he saw across the desert a dark line
that marked the approach of the invaders.
Nearer and nearer they came, while Rob watched them and bemoaned the
foolish impulse that had led him to fall asleep in an unknown land
where he could so easily be overpowered and robbed of his treasures.
"I always suspected these electrical inventions would be my ruin some
day," he reflected, sadly; "and now I'm side-tracked and left helpless
in this outlandish country, without a single hope of ever getting home
again. They probably won't be able to kill me, unless they find my
Garment of Repulsion and strip that off; but I never could cross this
terrible desert on foot and, having lost my food tablets, I'd soon
starve if I attempted it."
Fortunately, he had eaten one of the tablets just before going to
sleep, so there was no danger of immediate starvation. But he was
miserable and unhappy, and remained brooding over his cruel fate until
a sudden shout caused him to look up.