into Scotty's path and grabbed for the cat. The boy
tossed a lateral pass to Rick, who tucked the package under his arm.
Scotty's hand lashed out and his open palm caught the Arab under the
chin. The man lifted inches into the air and his head thudded audibly
against a brick wall. He lost all interest in the proceedings.

Hassan led the way like a charging lineman, with Rick in his wake.
Scotty fell back a few paces to prevent attack from behind. But in spite
of a few yells from the rear, no one else menaced them. The people of
the bazaar obviously were curious, but not involved.

Rick had a fleeting thought that a pair of obvious foreigners running at
top speed through a department store at home would arouse some
curiosity, too. He grinned, in spite of his bewilderment. Then they were
at the car. Hassan wheeled the little sedan around in almost its own
length and charged through the crowded streets like a miniature
juggernaut, heading back to the hotel.

* * * * *

A short time later over _cafe au lait_, part coffee and part hot milk,
the boys and Hassan held a half-angry, half-amused post mortem. There
had been no opportunity in the car for real conversation because of the
sheer adventure of rocketing through impossible traffic at equally
impossible speed. Rick had reported briefly to Scotty, and that was all.

Scotty took a sip from his steaming cup and turned to Hassan. "You ever
play football?"

Hassan stumbled over the word. "Footsball? What are footsball?"

"Never mind." Scotty grinned. "The way you took that clerk out, I
thought you might have played blocking back for the Green Bay Packers."

The dragoman's bewilderment deepened. Rick came to his rescue. "Football
is an American game, Hassan. It is rough. The Green Bay Packers is the
name of a famous professional football team."

"One thing is for sure," Scotty offered. "The clerks didn't know
football. That flat pass you threw was good for plenty of yardage."

"It made a touchdown," Rick pointed out. He changed the subject. "Look,
what went on in that store, anyway? I don't know who the big man was,
but he wasn't Ali Moustafa. At least he didn't come close to Bartouki's
description."

"Why didn't you give him the cat, anyway?" Scotty asked with a grin.
"Afraid a brand-new mystery might end without you getting a piece of
it?"

Rick grinned back. "Not a bad idea, now that you mention it. I didn't
think of it at the ti